Page 98 of Riordan's Revenge

The implication was clear.

Either I dispatched Leslie and helped send him to a watery grave, committing myself to the skeleton crew life, or I walked away from all but the weakest connection to it.

My mind jumped to Cassie’s goals. If I managed to keep her, or if she kept me, she’d come home bloodied and exhilarated, or maybe hurt and broken over a failure. This was what she wanted—to have her own list of predators to work on. Like Shade, she’d use people to support her. It didn’t have to be me.

Except all of that fell away when I considered saying no. My thoughts weren’t just for Cassie’s sake and my growing obsession with her, but for the want of being a part of something much bigger. Of that compelling picture Shade and Arran had painted. A brotherhood with them. A family, perhaps, with the wider crew. More than I thought possible.

Centring on the two crew members, I gave them my decision. “I always thought that being part of Deadwater’s underworld was a bad thing, but now I know there are layers. What you do has more value than most could ever know. Thanks for the out, but I respectfully decline.”

I closed in on Leslie, held the gun to his head, and pulled the trigger.

Sometime later,I slouched out of the boathouse, wired from what I’d seen, grossed out but not sickened, and with Shade tossing me another unfamiliar grin.

Blood smeared his cheek. It made me think of Cassie.

“Sorry again for faking ye out.”

I stuck my middle finger up at him, earning a laugh.

Arran paced at my other side, directing me to a burning canister on the right side of the boathouse. He stripped his ruined shirt as he walked, revealing a muscular form. “If you want to kill, Riot, you’ll have to earn it. If you don’t, that’s fine, too, but you need to know what happens on my crew whether you’re in a supporting role or actively hunting. We’re a family either way, and I’ll get a full training programme worked out for you.”

“Appreciated,” I muttered.

Of course, the gun Shade gave me hadn’t been loaded. Leslie had flinched then sobbed while I stared at the fucking thing and tried again, the two men watching me and cracking up.

No matter. They’d shown me how they preferred to do the work. Leslie was read a sentence and carved into pieces that the river claimed. I got to watch. Learn.

More importantly, I was a member of the skeleton crew now.

A real one. It felt fucking amazing.

In the car, Shade checked his phone and smirked, the night flying by where Arran sped us back to Deadwater, two cars of skeleton crew providing an escort.

“Cassie’s informed me I’m a dead man if I hurt ye. Good thing I’m bringing ye back in one piece.”

I rested my head back, lust flowing through my veins as quickly as adrenaline had. “That woman’s going to be the death of me.”

“Try to avoid dying on duty, aye? Messy business cleaning up after breakups.”

He was joking, but annoyance rushed in on my already too-high emotional state. “We won’t break up.”

I meant it. Even if I had no idea how to make it happen, or the lengths I’d go to ensure it, though the tracking device, somehow still in my pocket, went some way to reassuring me.

We cruised back into Deadwater, every mile getting me more keyed up to find Cassie. To start on a plan to change her mind. One where she didn’t drift out of love with me and instead only fell deeper.

The time we’d spent at the boathouse meant afternoon had changed to evening, the darkness only intensifying the scene outside the warehouse.

Cars littered the road. The blue lights of a couple of police patrol cars mixed with the neon pink of Divine’s and Divide’s signs, bouncing off the red-brick building and the cobblestone road. There were people everywhere, cameras and ring lights illuminating faces, snatches of their broadcasts making it through our closed windows.

“…the killer unmasked at last,” one woman gushed for her internet audience.

“I have all the shocking and disturbing details,” another claimed, speaking louder.

“Fucking hell.” Arran spun the wheel to take us around the approach road, heading to the rear car park. “Even from the afterlife, Bronson is a pain in my ass.”

From my vantage point, I took in the waiting police officers. Not moving in on the front doors of the clubs, but not leaving either. “Why the cops? If they’re after Cassie, I need to know.”

“I’ll call Detective Dickhead and ask.”

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