Page 61 of Widow's Walk

“Anything?” I ask over my earpiece.

“She’s not here,” Scout replies.

I already knew it. I knew she would rather burn than crawl back to the people who set her on fire. But their takedown was inevitable. And there might be some clue here to help me find her.

“Round up the staff!” I shout. “Anyone still breathing, bring them!”

Minutes later, the remaining help are lined up. Frightened, confused, barely clothed. I walk the line with slow, deliberate steps.

“Is there anyone Sinclair talked to on the staff?” I ask, studying everyone closely. Every twitch and tremble. “Anyone at all.”

The more I pace, the more they tremor. The women are crying. A few whisper prayers under their breath. But no one speaks up.

I’m about to give them an incentive using someone’s blood when an older man steps forward at the end of the line. I stand in front of him, and he bravely meets me in the eye. “I’ve known Miss Sinclair since she was a child. She would hide away in the kitchen a lot.”

I watch him for another heavy moment before deciding he’s telling the truth. I nod to Scout. “Take him. We’ll question him later,” I tell him.

The rest of the staff are free to go. We already have enough bodies to dispose of. And it’s finally time to deal with the real infestation.

They kneel before me, stripped of dignity, fallen from grace. All of them, and I wish Sinclair were here to witness it herself. Lincoln is bleeding from his nose. Royce can hardly breathe through his fear. Anthony has a few cuts and bruises of his own as he glares at me. And her mother reeks of piss and shame.

My blood boils hottest when I stand directly in front of her father. “If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with,” he sneers.

My grin is slow. “I’m not here to kill you.” He frowns, obviously confused. “Not tonight, that is.”

“Then what do you want?” he snaps.

I crouch down. Letting a moment of silence make him squirm. “What was it you hated so much about her?” Lincoln starts throwing curses at me, but I let them bounce off. Still, Scoutclubs him on the head with the butt of a gun. “Was it because you envied her strength and tenaciousness, or because you wanted her so badly in such an unnatural way? That if she ever told you to kneel, you’d fall right then and there.”

I struck a nerve. He’s frothing at the mouth now. “If you don’t kill me now, I will kill you later,” he hisses.

I stand up smiling, then I look at her mother and see how she’s shriveling up on herself. Pitiful. Then I look at Lincoln and he bares his teeth. And, when my eyes move to Royce, I laugh.

I side-step to stand in front of him. “I think she’ll have the most fun with you, ripping you to shreds. Peeling your skin off one layer at a time.” A tear escapes, trickling down his face. A puddle forms between his knees, and I scowl in disdain. “Not because she hates you the most, because she’d have to care to hate you, but because you’ll probably scream the loudest.”

I give Scout another nod, and he barks orders to take them all away. Lincoln and Anthony resist and curse at me, Royce and her mother start begging for mercy and sobbing, which falls on deaf ears.

They’ll be tossed in cells to rot while they wait for Sinclair to bring justice down on them. A fitting wedding gift. Hers to unwrap and dissect at her leisure.

Chapter twenty-five

Sinclair

Today will be a reckoning.

The last scene before the final act.

The stage is set. Now, all we need is our performers. Thanks to my old pal, Baxter, I know that Blackwell knows my location. He called me with the heads-up yesterday, right before he left town with the money gifted to him. If I know Blackwell at all, he’s on his way right now, bringing the cavalry.

I finish the final touches to my makeup. “Well?” I glance over at Blender. “What do you think?” She flicks her tail once, unimpressed.

She looks like a totally different cat, now that her fur has filled out and she has some meat on her bones. Her black fur is long with a red tint in it under the sun. There’s a patch of white on her chest, and the hair is thicker around her neck, giving her a lion’s mane. Her eyes haven’t changed, though. Still a yellow-green, piercing, and soulful. She’s the definition of majestic.

I was apprehensive about bringing Blender on the road, but she’s always been a contradiction. Untamed, yet tethered to me in her own quiet way. She roams freely, capable of surviving anywhere, but never strays far.

I stick my tongue out at her playfully, then turn back to the cracked mirror hanging crooked off the wall. I wanted to look extra special for my ex-lover for our brief reunion. Remind him of who he fucked with. I wanted to create an image that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life. Possibly the last image he’ll ever see.

I grin at my reflection. “I’m really digging this look.”

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