Page 30 of Vengeful Lies

I’ve never felt so exposed.

Vulnerable.

All I have to remember my father is gone.

My guns were my point of living.

A hollow emotion grips me, one I try to push away because I don’t do emotion. I haven’t since my father died.

This is all I have.

My mother shunned me and walked out.

And my father left me too.

This is all I’ve ever had since then to give me purpose.

It’s what I’m good at. But what kind of hitwoman am I if I let some asshole steal them so easily?

“This means war, motherfucker,” I grit out angrily, for the first time starting to create a personal vendetta against this guy.

First, it was just business.

Now, it’s personal.

I’ll enjoy it when I bury him six feet under.

I stomp from the empty space, then slam the door down and scream, the echoing sound, a chaotic promise to retrieve my precious property.

My eyes burst open with focus.

Fuck him.

Now, we play.

CHAPTER 15

Eli

“Get the fuck out of my house.”

“Come on, my dude, don’t be like that.” Hawke groans in complaint, not even bothering to look over his shoulder at me because he’s so invested in some shooting game on the screen. I swear, the single worst thing I had built into this mansion was the cinema room. I never even use it. But it’s somehow turned into a hangout for whoever the fuck wants to come around.

I stare a hole into the back of Billie’s head. She’s another unwanted guest. “Does Dutton know you’re here?” I ask, irritated. Dutton is many things, but he’s especially protective over his sister.

“No, and I want it to stay that way,” she says, then snaps, “Are you fucking kidding me, Hawke? I thought you said you had my back.”

“Stop being a princess. Not my fault you’re a shit shot.”

“Maybe you should practice more in real life, and you’d be more useful with an actual gun,” Billie bites back as she flips her long honey-colored hair. She’s striking, with features very similar to my aunt Honey.

“I don’t disagree,” Ford says as he focuses on the portable chess board he’s playing on the floor against Hope. Hope is rarely here; her heavy studies and traveling abroad keep her away from home. With a famous mother like Lena Love and a father like Alek Ivanov, who partly runs the underground auctions of New York, it’s fair to say she’s both aloof and guarded.

She tucks a loose strand of vibrant red hair behind her ear and pushes up her glasses as she asks, “Shouldn’t you be studying anyway, Billie?”

The two attend the same college, though virtually most of the time, considering their busy lives and influential families.

“I could say the same to you. Where’s your overbearing father?” Billie jokes.

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