Page 143 of Exposé

"Good luck, Barlowe." He laughed and wiped the blood off his hand. "You're one man in a sea of many who would do anything to be in your position."

I glanced at the agents waiting with bated breath to jump me. "Anyone who follows you after knowing you've stepped on the bodies of good men and women to climb higher... are spineless fucking dogs, too weak to get off their knees." I turned on my heel, ripped the badge off my neck, tossed it to the floor, and took the elevator out of the building. My eyes wandered to every shadow that mimicked movement as I brushed past the guards at the door.

Running, I threw my leg over my bike, strapped my helmet on my head, and dialed Ava's number.

There were five hours between me and her.

Five hours where he could live out his promise, ripping yet another part of my soul away.

28

Ava

The heavy box weighed me down as I walked to my car, my phone ringing in my pocket.

Sorry, whoever you are.

Now's not a good time.

The nerve, the absolute nerve to demand I obey her so she can line her pockets.

What is she thinking?

I unlocked my car and put the box in the trunk before slamming it closed like it was my own personal punching bag, then dashed out of the parking lot, my tires squealing.

The town bled shadows across the windshield. Deeno's neon lights refracted in jagged shards on the glass. Rain pelted the roof in relentless bursts—rat-tat-tat—like distant gunfire. Wipers dragged across the glass with a tired screech, struggling to keep pace while I gripped the steering wheel in a vice, my fingers locked and pale.

The words from my ex-boss echoed, clipped and cold. “Reconsider.” The command sat in my mind like a rusted nail.

Who got to her?

Why did she change her mind?

Was it the Mayor?

I flexed my fingers, the steering wheel groaning beneath the pressure. The rain hammered down like fists on metal.

The phone buzzed in the seat beside me—a low, insistent hum that wormed into my head.

Liam.

I jabbed the screen, keeping a side-eye on the blurry road. “What?” The word cut through the air, harsher than I intended.

“Easy, Ava.” A short laugh slipped through. “Thought you'd want to know that I ran a background check on your boy.”

My boy...

If there was any truth to Liam's gut instincts, he wasn't 'my boy'.

The rain drummed harder—thup-thup-thup—against the roof, syncing with the dull roar of tires on wet asphalt.

I scoffed. “And?” My stomach flipped as though I'd taken a drop on the highest roller coaster.

“Everything about him screams average, his family background checks out—middle-class, low profile. Both parents live in Detroit. Father’s a retired auto plant supervisor, mother volunteers at a local shelter.”

The words slid in cold and sharp. My breath fogged the glass as doubt twisted slow and deep in my gut.

“You sure?” The question comes out brittle.

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