Page 75 of Hell Hath No Fury

“So, what time is it, then?” Nettie asks, pulling me from my brief epiphany. I turn to meet her gaze, that knowing smile sending adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Well, now, since you asked,” I retort smoothly, “it’s fuck-around time.”

She smiles brightly, leaning over and nudging me with her shoulder again. I return her smile, grateful for the tiny moment of familiarity in this otherwise fucked-up situation.

“Motherfucker,” Matt spits out, drawing my attention to the front of the vehicle. “This is bad. This is really fucking bad.”

“What?” I ask hurriedly, unable to keep the urgency from my voice.

Matt ignores me, his eyes on Mickey as he asks, “How far are we from their supposed location?”

Mickey squints at his screen. “Maybe twenty, assuming this is the actual location.”

“Why?” Darius asks heatedly. “What’s going on?”

Matt holds his tablet up. Showing a dim room filled with people. “Found this on the dark web.”

Antoinette leans forward, peering intently at the screen. “What the fuck is that?”

“According to the description, it’s where Antonio Rossi and Lilith Ferro pay their restitution for their many crimes.”

“Pay how?” I ask quietly, worried I already know the answer.

Matt cranes his head to look at me. “Skin and blood.”

“Fuck,” Mickey spits out, his foot pressing down on the accelerator. “How much time is on it?”

“Not much.”

“What are they doing?” Antoinette asks, her voice shaking a little.

Matt’s lips twist, but after a moment, he responds, “They’re definitely at the skin part of the plan.”

Agatha takes Matt’s tablet, examining the screen closely before handing it back. “What’s the clock counting down to?”

“The clock is counting down?” Mickey asks, panic lacing his voice, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.

“Yes,” Matt whispers.

“Time?”

Matt doesn’t answer at first, his eyes glued to the screen, so Agatha leans close to him, her jaw clenching a few times before finally answering, “Two minutes.”

“What happens when the clock runs out?” Antoinette asks hesitantly, likely because she already knows but wants someone to tell her differently.

We let silence be our answer.

Mickey drives like a mad man, but we know we won’t beat the clock. The faint din of the crowd on the screen is an odd echo throughout the eerily quiet vehicle, and we all strain to hear something, anything from the two at center stage.

A loud bang is heard in the distance, followed by even louder shouting, and Matt holds the screen closer to his face, horror in his eyes as chaos erupts.

Then it goes quiet, and Matt shouts, “No. Fuck. Fuck.”

“What happened?” Antoinette yells from beside me.

Matt turns his panicked eyes to her as he responds, “The clock stopped.”

The tension in the vehicle is palpable, all of us doing our best not to assume the worst based on our many experiences. It’s not over until there is actual proof it is over.

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