Page 61 of Crown of Smoke

"I'll go to the police," I say, my voice trembling. "Tell them everything. About Marshall's corruption, the Keans' involvement, your family?—"

Flint's grip on my arms tightens. "The police? Like Marshall? How many others do you think Hampton Kean has in his pocket?"

Oh, God, he’s right. Hampton Kean has a superintendent in his pocket. That means he could have the whole force on his side.

"Then I'll publish the story. Everything I've learned, everything I've seen?—"

"And sign your death warrant?" Flint's eyes flash with anger and fear. "The moment your name appears on that story, you're dead.”

"I never wanted this," I whisper. "I just wanted the truth."

"The truth?" His laugh is bitter. "The truth is that Hampton Kean orchestrated my family's murder, and the system you want to trust helped him cover it up. The truth will get you killed, Lucy."

My hands shake as Flint guides me into his car. The leather seat feels cold against my back, and when he shuts the door, the sound makes me flinch.

He slides into the driver’s seat and speeds off, his eyes darting about like any minute he expects trouble. The city lights blur past the window as my mind spins with questions I'm afraid to ask. Each memory of Flint takes on a darker shade now, his protectiveness morphing into possession, his intensity revealing something more sinister than passion.

Was any of it real? The way he touched me, held me, made me feel safe even as he warned me of danger? Or was I just convenient, a journalist already digging into his enemies, easy to manipulate with a few gentle words and heated kisses?

My throat tightens as I remember how eagerly I shared my research with him, thinking he was an undercover cop. God, I practically handed him everything he needed. Every lead I uncovered, every connection I made, all feeding his revenge plot while I swooned over his mysterious persona.

I steal a glance at Flint's profile, searching for any trace of the man I thought I knew. His jaw is set, eyes focused on the road with predatory intensity. Even his posture speaks of violence. How did I miss it? The signs were there. His comfort with violence, the way he moved like a weapon waiting to strike.

Now I'm trapped. If I run, the Keans will find me. If I stay… I don’t know Flint Ifrinn. Yes, he’s Flynn, but he’s not. The man I trusted to protect me might be the most dangerous of them all.

22

FLINT

Igrip the steering wheel, trying to center myself. The metallic scent of Marshall’s blood clings to my clothes. Marshall's last gurgle echoes in my mind. I've dreamed of confronting one of the men who helped destroy my family. But not like this. Not with Lucy watching.

"Fuck." I slam my palm against the wheel. I've blown everything. My cover. The mission. Lucy's trust.

Lucy sits rigid beside me, pressed against the passenger door. Her fear slices through my anger. I've become the monster I was trying to protect her from. The irony isn't lost on me.

"Lucy…" I start, but what can I possibly say? Sorry I lied about who I am? Sorry you had to watch me kill a man?

I chance another glance at Lucy. Her blue eyes, usually sparkling with curiosity and determination, now hold only fear and betrayal.

"I won't hurt you," I say, although I wouldn’t blame her for doubting me. How can she believe that after what she just witnessed? After I dragged her into my car against her will?

"Right." Her voice trembles. "Just like you wouldn't lie about being a cop?"

The guilt churns in my stomach. I grip the wheel tighter, taking a sharp turn down a side street. We need to get off the main roads before Marshall's body is found. Before the Keans realize who I am and come looking.

“I didn’t lie about being a cop.”

She purses her lips at me.

“You assumed?—”

“You let me believe that.”

I shrug. “Everything I did was to protect you. If I'd told you who I really was?—”

"I'd what? Run screaming? Report you to the police?" She lets out a bitter laugh. "The police who are apparently in the Keans' pocket? The one you just…" She can't finish the sentence.

My jaw clenches. She doesn't understand, can't understand what it's like to have your whole family ripped away by betrayal. To spend a decade planning revenge. But now she's caught in the crossfire, and it's my fault. I dragged her into this mess because I couldn't stay away from her.

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