Page 74 of Final Vendetta

“What he paid me. Five grand.”

I tightened the grip on my gun, my mind a blur of fury and grief. Then the man’s voice echoed in my mind.

I planted the seed, but you watered it.

God, I wanted to kill this bastard. Wanted to pull the trigger and end this worthless excuse for a human being.

But that would only provehimright. Prove I truly was nothing more than a killer.

I refused to give him the satisfaction.

“You’re not worth it,” I muttered in disgust, lowering my gun, albeit reluctantly.

Vargas hung his head in relief, blowing out a long breath. “Thank you. Thank you, man.”

“Don’t thank me,” I snapped as I turned toward the door. “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

Then I hurried out of the house, determined to save Imogene by any means necessary.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Imogene

The harsh light from the hallway sliced into the darkness of the room like a dagger. It should have been a welcome sight after the confusion of the past few minutes. But nothing could have prepared me for this, to be staring at the man who I thought was trying to help me. Keep me safe.

I should have known after his questions at the hospital he wasn’t to be trusted. I convinced myself I was just overreacting.

But as I stared at the amused grin tugging on Agent Myers’ lips, making him look nothing like the FBI agent I thought him to be, I knew I should have trusted my gut back then.

“Good evening, Ms. Prescott,” Myers said, his voice as smooth as glass.

I pressed my back against the wall, my heart pounding so hard I felt it in my throat.

“How are you finding your accommodations?”

He adjusted his glasses with an air of casual arrogance. As if he was paying me a visit at my house. Not holding me captive in this dark, windowless room.

“What do you want?” I managed, my voice raw and trembling.

He tilted his head to the side. Then a slow smile spread across his face, the kind of smile you might give a child who asked a naïve question.

“What an excellent place to start.”

He took another step closer, and I flinched before I could stop myself. He noticed, of course, and his grin only grew wider. As if he got off on my fear.

He probably did.

“The complexity of human nature has always intrigued me. What makes people tick? What pushes them to do the unthinkable? What breaks them?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I retorted.

“You will soon enough.”

He paced in front of me, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Your father was a fascinating case study. We studied serial killers extensively at the academy, but your father was unique. His ability to manipulate others into taking their own lives without pulling the trigger himself. It was almost…admirable. Was he shaped by his environment? Or was it simply…in his blood?” He stopped and turned to me, his sharp gaze piercing. “And that’s where you come in.”

“Me?” An icy chill ran down my spine.

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