Page 92 of Sardonic Burn

“And nineteen-year-old Noelle deserves a beating.”

“What got your panties in a twist?”

I slump into his comfy couch, laying my head on the fluffy pillow. I look at him and just take a deep breath. The need torelax is overwhelming; my muscles are too tight, and I’m barely functioning properly.

“Nothing,” I mumble. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” I nod lightly. “Why did you call me here? Did anything happen?”

“Aside from being unable to reach you for ages, no. And that’s exactly the problem. It’s been too quiet. No more dead women showing up and no new girls going missing either. It’s good, but it also means that they either changed their game, or they have enough people for now.”

“Both scenarios are equally as terrifying.”

Lucas nods. “Right, which is why I’m trying to take a different approach. I have someone in law enforcement to help me out.”

“Of course you have someone in law enforcement,” I mumble, my eyes slowly closing. “What are you looking for, exactly?”

“Anything and everything. I’m trying to find information dating way before your aunt died. Speaking of which, have you told Hudson about it?”

My eyes snap open. “About what?”

“Your misjudgment of the late Franco De Santis.”

“Why in the world would I do that? That secret dies with me.”

“Do you not feel any remorse? Guilt for killing a man who had nothing to do with your aunt’s death and then keeping it from his brother, who, by the way, you need right now?”

I pause to think.

Not once did it cross my mind to confess Hudson. Telling him would result in a nasty fight and him potentially trying to sabotage this whole operation out of spite. I can’t afford that, and I don’t need him up in his feelings and misguided.

“Not really, no.”

“Not even a little bit?”

I shake my head. “Not everyone feels guilt easily, Lucas.”

“Why are you bragging about that?”

“I’m stating a fact. It’s either because I’m too accustomed to death or because I genuinely do not care. One less De Santis to worry about.”

“I don’t know why I’m even trying,” he sighs out in disbelief. “Anyway, the bullet maker was found without a head. I’m assuming that’s your work of art.”

I beam. “I’m very proud of that one. Should’ve cut his dick off, too, and hung it in my living room.”

Lucas gags, then pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Do you make it a hobby to cut off men’s dicks and keep them as a souvenir?”

I immediately stand up. Right there is Hudson, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest and dressed in all black. He has the same Dr. Martens as me, and it’s almost as if we’re matching.

I grit my teeth. “Provoke me a little and find out.”

He pushes himself off the door frame and closes the door behind him with a soft laugh. He’s glancing around, staring almost in awe at Lucas’ equipment. The walls are filled with monitors, he has at least eight keyboards around, and a wide desk spans the walls.

“How the hell did you get in here, and how long have you been here?”

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