Page 47 of Raze

“So why come back here, why take the seat? You said yourself you ain’t a leader, you don’t speak to me, you don’t speak to them,” he points toward the office door. “You don’t even speak to your old man.” I resist the urge to fuckin’ swing at him when he starts talking about shit he knows nothing about.

“Don’t bring him into this. We all got our problems, Wrath, and this…” I pick up the death certificate. “Is not one of yours.” I slam out the door taking it with me.

Peyton is at home playing with that stupid raven she rescued a few weeks ago. He barely even goes in the carrier anymore, just hops around the place like he owns it. I swear if that fucker put the effort in he’d be able to fly, but why would he when he’s got all he needs right here?

“You okay?” She must pick up on my mood because she bites her lip in that sexy awkward way that never fails to make me want to be inside her.

“It’s just Wrath, I’ll figure it out,” I snap.

“Sonny was telling me about the two of you the other day, he said you used to be close.” She looks like she’s feeling sorry for me and I hate that.

“I was his sponsor,” I admit, I haven’t delved into my past with Peyton yet and there's a very good reason for that. Everything about this girl is so fresh and new, I don’t wanna taint her with the past of this place.

“And that means?” She moves away from the table and straddles my lap.

“To be a prospect you need a sponsor, someone who’ll take responsibility for ya, put ya on the right path.”

“And wasn’t Wrath’s daddy the president before you?” She tilts her head, proving that she’s been doing some homework.

“Yeah, but they were always buttin’ heads, Wrath had a different vision to his dad and so did I. So I stepped up.”

“And taught him everything you know.” Her eyes sparkle with seduction and I slide my hand around her throat.

“Not everythin’.” I drag her closer and grip her bottom lip between my teeth until she squeals.

“So what went wrong, why did you fall out?”

“That’s not my story to tell.” Things turn serious again when I think back to the day he told me what had happened and how scared he was.

I think of the years I spent blaming myself for it and although I got no intention of turning my sister’s life upside down again, I realize that I do need some answers. I need to know who helped her fake her death and I know a good place to start.

“I gotta go take care of somethin’.” I lift Peyton with me as I stand up and place her ass on the table. I can feel my sister's fake death certificate burning a hole in my pocket now, and all the questions are going round in my head. “I’ll bring somethin’ nice back for dinner,” I promise.

“Don’t forget those seeds Reggie likes.” She grins.

“You named the thing?” I look down to the floor where he’s strutting around and he tilts his head at me when he notices me watching.

“Of course, he needs a name. How else am I supposed to call him?”

I shake my head and kiss her before I head out because she’s too damn fuckin’ cute.

I don’t even know if I’m at the right hospital, but this one is the closest to where Eden lived, so it’s the best place to start. I follow the signs that lead toward the mortuary, heading down the long white corridors and trying not to arouse any suspicion. When I get to the desk in front of the double doors I find it empty.

I need to speak to someone, find out how I can talk to the man who signed off on my sister's death. He must have been paid off which means he’ll know who helped her orchestrate this whole thing.

I wait for over five minutes before I get impatient, and when I try to rattle the door to get some attention, I’m surprised when they simply open up.

Behind them is another corridor, which I follow all the way down, peering through the doors as I go and trying to find someone who can help me.

There’s an eerie feeling in the air, one you’d expect to feel around so much death, and when I hear the sound of humming come from the double doors at the bottom, I slowly open them and check inside.

I stare at the woman wearing ripped jeans and Converse under her lab coat, as she bops her head to whatever she’s listening to through her headphones.

I watch her pull a long string of intestines from the body in front of her and then dump them in a large silver bowl.

“Ain’t no lie, bye, bye…byeeeee—” She stops singing when she turns to grab something from her tray and catches me watching her.

“Hey.” She snaps off one of her gloves and uses that hand to slide the headphones off her head. “Sorry, Nsync always gets me carried away.” She smiles before looking me up and down like she’s expecting an explanation to why I’m here.

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