Page 6 of Theirs to Corrupt

Tessa

What is wrong with me?

Frustrated with myself, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel as I near the Rusty Nail.

Even though I haven’t seen Link or Pax since that fateful evening, memories of their intense gazes still send shivers down my spine.

I should be grateful they haven’t come in, at least not while I’ve been at work.

They see too much, and they are far too dangerous. And it’s not just my intuition telling me that.

After they left, Marge confirmed just that.

And what I overheard Link say—about Pax shooting someone at a charity event—is evidently more than just a story to scare the pants off the man who’d betrayed him.

When I arrived home at the run-down apartment that I share with my friend Natalie, we dug into a bowl of spaghetti withmeatballs, poured some sweet tea, and dropped down on the couch, and I told her the story about Pax killing that man.

“Makes you wonder why he needed to shoot someone at a charity event, doesn’t it?”

Her words fascinated me, and I couldn’t get them out of my head.

Later that evening, while I was babysitting overnight for a nurse who lives on the other side of the complex, I scrolled toScandalicious, my favorite online gossip rag, one that isn’t afraid to spill juicy details.

There, I learned that Link is richer than God. Because of his cutthroat business practices, he was once called a vulture capitalist, and now that moniker has been shortened to Vulture.

He’s rumored to belong to the Zetas, a secret society.

From there, I fell deeper into an internet rabbit hole.

Though there’s never been an official confirmation that such an organization exists, there’s plenty of rumor and conjecture, including assertions that it’s been around for generations, and that the group’s headquarters is somewhere in Louisiana.

They supposedly have bizarre rituals, including a yearly bonfire.

One article called members Titans, which seems fitting. They’re rumored to have a symbol so they can recognize one another—Athena’s owl. On one page there was a mockup. Framed by laurel leaves, the bird was ordinary, but had terrifying, unblinking green eyes.

Having read too much already, I went back toScandaliciousto see more pictures of the drop-dead gorgeous, movie-star handsome Link. Many of the images showed him with various women. Never the same one twice.

Some of the ladies had not-very nice things to say about him. One called him a manwhore who notched his bedpost and discarded conquests without a backward glance.

Unsurprised, I placed my phone onto a coffee table, facedown.

But every day since then, I’ve wondered if he’ll show up at the bar.

And today’s no different.

I turn into the Rusty Nail’s parking lot and glance at the time.

I’m early for my shift, but instead of going inside and clocking a few extra minutes, I park the car beneath a lamppost, then open my phone to theScandaliciouspage, wondering if there are any new stories about him.

Why am I doing this?

The man’s an alleged murderer and confirmed womanizer. He is the last person I should be interested in.

But a traitorous part of me understands how Link is able to effortlessly charm women.

With his chiseled, angular features and searing blue eyes, he’s gorgeous. And every time I approached his table, all his attention had been focused on me.

Factor in multiple commas in his net worth, he probably has women throwing themselves at him.

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