Page 134 of Hunting Pretty

Fire was an excellent destroyer of evidence as it turned out.

Ebony brushed by me, her guards following on either side like I was a river stone to simply be moved past.

I glanced over my shoulder to watch them all pile into the sedan.

Ebony was already hunched over her phone, no doubt sending curt emails and blunt instructions to her herd of minions.

I sighed a little as the car eased down the tree-lined lane.

Of course I owed Ebony my life. I didn’t want to imagine how different things could be if she hadn’t adopted me.

But a part of me, perhaps a very selfish, ungrateful part of me, couldn’t help but wonder why she had to hold me like she held the world—at arm’s length.

My phone buzzed and I thought perhaps it was Scáth, messaging me that he’d landed and was on his way home.

He’d caught a different flight from us. He said he had something to do in Paris but wouldn’t tell me what.

But it wasn’t Scáth. It was Aisling.

Aisling: I’m ready to talk about Liath.

My gaze swept over the mansion across the fence, my eyes lingering on the window where my stalker kept his binoculars.

I sensed no movement at the window. I couldn’t feel him watching me.

He must not be back yet.

Which meant I had a small window of opportunity to go somewhere without him trying to stop me.

He wasn’t going to be happy when he found out.

I needed to meet Lisa to carry out our plan, the reason we’d come back early.

But first I needed to talk to Aisling.

I needed answers. Even if it risked my life.

AVA

Ihurried down the tight brick lane that hid the entry to Poe’s Last Stand—an old Victorian haunt hidden away in a quiet corner of old Dublin.

The heavy oak door creaked as I pushed it open, and the smell of peaty whiskey, leather, and worn wood greeted me like an old ghost.

Inside, the dim lighting came from flickering brass sconces, casting long shadows on the crimson walls, and a wrought-iron fireplace lit with a low fire, more for the ambiance than for warmth.

Every surface seemed to absorb the darkness, from the mahogany bar polished smooth, to the mismatched wooden chairs and uneven floorboards that creaked with age under my feet.

Old leather-bound books lined the shelves that framed the bar, dusty and untouched, their presence giving the room an air of long forgotten secrets.

The air was thick with the quiet murmurs of thescattering of patrons who sat hunched over their drinks, their faces obscured by the dim light.

But no one paid any attention to me as I weaved through them to a booth tucked away in the back where Aisling sat waiting.

I shook droplets from my hair and slipped into the booth opposite her, the deep red upholstery had long since faded and the table was scarred with the marks of countless glasses.

“Hey, bish…” I said softly.

But she wasn’t even looking at me.

---