Page 40 of Sardonic Burn

“Why?”

“I’ve seen a lot of bullets in my lifetime.” She looks at me with a worried expression. “And these are unlike anything I’ve ever seen. They’re handmade with a crest I don’t recognize.”

“Do you know anyone who might know anything about that?”

“I can ask my father,” she promises. “I don’t know how much he’ll be able to help, though. You’re the assassin here. Shouldn’t you know about this more than anyone?”

I bite my bottom lip in frustration. Hudson’s words vividly replay in my head, and my cheeks flush. Slowly, I release the hold on my lip before it bleeds and try to ignore the sudden rhythm change of my heart.

“Personalized bullets are rare. They’re often purchased in bulk, and the person making them is either quite skilled or an amateur. Adding a crest is a dumb move because it can identify the attackers easier.”

“Then all you need to do is find the person who made the bullets, and it will lead you to whoever bought them and shot him, right?”

“Yes. I have someone who can find that out for me. Thanks for keeping them intact.”

Cecilia nods. “No problem.”

“Also, can I ask you to keep this between us?”

She smirks. “Which one? The enemy hottie or the bullets?”

I roll my eyes. “Both.”

“So you do agree that he’s handsome?”

My eyes close. She’s starting again, and I don’t know how much longer I can put up with it. She’s reading too many books, and she can’t differentiate between fiction and reality.

“I have a pair of functioning eyes.” I give her a pointed look. “So, yes. He’s handsome. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“I don’t know why the two of you don’t use this opportunity to work together and find a solution to put an end to this feud.”

Because the rage that I grew up seeing and the loss I had to deal with are just too great for me to let go of. If I don’t get revenge for my fallen family members, and if I don’t put an end to it by killing them, then I have nothing to live for.

I live to kill them.

And I yearn to see their downfall.

“Because if I let go of this rage, I have nothing left.”

Instead of moving Hudson from the table and risking his stitches opening, I put a pillow under his head and Cecilia throws a blanket over him. That’s as generous as I can be.

Before she leaves, she tells me he’s expected to wake up soon. If he doesn’t, well, I should start preparing a funeral. I glance at him one last time before bidding Cecilia goodbye and going up to my little, personal room.

I’m not a hacker. I’m only good with a few things because a friend taught me and left a written manual on how to accesscertain things, which keys to press, and how to navigate CCTV footage.

I leave the door open in case Hudson wakes up and I need to bolt from this room.

In the meantime, I turn on the computers and get access to the cameras in front of the building and in my hallway. I try to track his steps backward and to figure out where he was before coming to me.

In total, there are seven monitors attached to my wall. I’m still learning how to hack, just because it’s a good skill to have and it’s fun. The first monitor shows Hudson getting off his bike, which is weird on its own.

He came here on a bike, in that state, in a suit?

I’m trying to follow instructions written on the paper and see what he was up to before showing up at my doorstep, but it’s harder than it looks. I’ve been lazing around lately and haven’t practiced at all, so I’m barely managing to do anything right.

And my mind is elsewhere.

What did he mean about not having anywhere else to go?

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