Page 109 of The Blood we Crave

I look at her. “Stop bowing down to people beneath you and I’ll stop. Remember your place, pet.”

A question lingers in her eyes, but she keeps quiet, settling into her chair. Awkward silence lingers around the table, everyone too shocked to speak, but I’ve never explained my actions to anyone before, and I won’t start now.

A fry sails across the air, thumping against Lyra’s chest. “Seems the bug queen has crawled her way into Thatcher’s icy heart too.”

Lyra smiles gently while I throw my middle finger up to Rook. Her knee knocks against my own. A light pink color rises to her cheeks, memories from the last time we were together probably replaying in her mind. Suddenly, I’m starved. Famished, and not for trash food here at Tilly’s.

She clears her throat, looking around the building quickly before speaking. “Any word?”

“On what, exactly? We are knee-dip in shit, and it just keeps getting deeper by the second. Gotta be more specific,” Rook hums.

He’s not wrong. Quite on the mark this time. Right now, we are staring at a dead end, sitting like ducks, waiting for trouble to come to us with no way to stop it.

“The circus. Have the police released a statement or asked questions?”

“Nothing has come across my father’s desk. I went by the station yesterday and didn’t hear or see anyone chatting about a man being impaled on a board.”

Regardless of Rook’s turbulent relationship with his father, Theodore Van Doren is in the perfect position to provide us with information regarding the legal status of all things criminal in Ponderosa Springs.

Him being the district attorney not only gives Rook access (without his permission) to confidential files, but his office is smack-dab in the middle of the police station.

All it takes is one brief visit, and we can figure out just about anything.

“That’s the least of my concern,” Alistair speaks up from the corner. “That was an eye for an eye. Stephen knows the score. If anyone came for us, he knows we’d throw him under the bus. He wouldn’t risk it.”

Lyra’s shoulders relax a bit at the reassurance that she won’t be thrown into the back of a police car or spend life in prison.

“Every day I wake up feels another day closer to prison,” Briar mutters, running a hand down her face in frustration. “I still don’t understand why we can’t go to someone outside the Ponderosa Springs food chain and share the information we already have. Let professionals handle it.”

Alistair’s hand tightens around her shoulder as if silently letting her know he’d rather die than have her go to jail. This will never touch her or Sage. They wouldn’t let it, even if it meant rotting for the rest of their lives.

“All of our proof is tied to something that could bring us down with it,” Sage says slowly. “We have nothing solid to stand on without convicting ourselves, plus I don’t trust anyone. Not even the feds. We saw how that worked out last time.”

“Then—”

“Then what?” I interrupt the blonde across from me. “We tell them about where those missing federal agents are? That the reason we know about this sex ring is that we went on a murder spree to find it? That’s your big plan?”

I watch her fist tighten into a ball, her lips in a thin line, and she glares at me.

“You’re a real asshole, Pierson. At least I’m trying to help. Must be real fun to only care about yourself.”

“It is,” I quip, only pissing her off further.

Arguing with her statement is pointless. Briar doesn’t know me, and even if she did, she wouldn’t understand me. We are two opposites with contrasting views around every turn.

There is no middle ground for the two of us. And there never will be.

Briar opens her mouth to say something I’m sure is full of curse words and distaste for my actions, but Lyra is quick to interrupt.

“Stephen is going to run for mayor,” she blurts out, effectively stopping her best friend from speaking.

“What?”

“I saw the campaign information on his desk. He plans on announcing it soon, some type of launch party he’s getting together.”

“How’d you get into his office?” Sage asks. “The Sinclairs have fucking crazy security protocols.”

She shrugs. “I’d spent all day following Easton. The entire day, I trailed him, listening to pointless fucking conversation. So I followed him to his house, and the idiot didn’t lock the door behind him. I saw an opportunity, and I took it.”

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