Page 190 of Ruin My Life
I run the name through memory—fast.
We helped her about three months ago. Her boyfriend was trafficking her around to his poker buddies—treating her like a trophy to be passed around the table, not a person. Like she was part of the fucking pot. We crashed their last game, flipped the table, and left them bleeding. After that, we got her clean housing out in Hoboken. Safe, quiet, far from the city.
Or at least, it was supposed to be.
“Was she killed the same way as Jennifer?” I ask, already knowing I won’t like the answer.
“No,” Lee says. “Anya was stabbed last month. Left in an alley. No attempt to hide her.”
Brie frowns. “So… how do we know it’s connected? That sounds more like a random city killing.”
“One?” I say. “Sure. Maybe. Buttwo? Two women we helped. Two withinweeksof each other?” I shake my head. “That’s not coincidence. That’s the start of a fucking pattern.”
“But how?” Brie asks. “No one but you guys would know where they end up, right?”
Then the realization hits—sharp and sudden—like a punch to the sternum. All the air rushes from my lungs, and for a second, I can’t think. Can’t breathe. Just stare as the pieces snap together with surgical precision.
“King’s Eye was hacked,” I mutter, my voice dropping into a growl. “The server. Someone got in and deleted footage from the camera’s at Brie’s old apartment, remember?”
We always keep tabs on the women we help—basic check-ins, burner phones, encrypted emails. No addresses. Nothing personal.
But if someone accessed that system, even partially…
It would’ve been enough.
“Getting into a personal network is one thing, but a server is a whole different story.” Brie stiffens against me. “Who could even get through those encryptions without triggering the firewall?”
“They’d have to be a genius,” Lee says. “It’s like they already had every password, every key. I still haven’t tracedthe entry point—it loops everything back to our main office. Whoever did this didn’t just break in… they walked through the front door without leaving a trace. This person is good. Maybe even better than Brie and me combined.”
I rake a hand through my hair, the pressure building behind my eyes like water rushing against a dam. My brain’s moving faster than my body can keep up, thoughts leaping ahead, connecting dots I don’t want to see aligned.
If Anya was killedbeforeXander was taken out…
Then this isn’t retaliation.
Unless… it is.
Just slower. More methodical.
The Songbirds don’t think like that. They’re chaos incarnate—loud, reactive, violent. They don’t play chess. They don’t plan twelve steps ahead.
But Xander—Xander was different. Smarter. More patient. He said it himself that whatever was coming had been in motion long before Brie put a bullet in his skull.
And Brie… Brie was part of that plan from the beginning.
Whether she knew it or not.
A low throb pulses behind my eyes, spreading into a full-blown ache that blurs the edge of my vision.
I hate this feeling—this spiralling sense that we’re behind again. That we’re still just catching up to someone else’s game.
Because this doesn’t feel like Songbird work.
It feels like somethingworse.
“I’ve already sent out alerts to everyone we’ve helped recently,” Lee says, breaking the silence with grim precision. “Nothing detailed. Just a warning to be careful, stay low. I’ve got both autopsy reports too, but there’s nothing solid in terms of suspects. No fingerprints, no DNA, no unusual surveillance hits. Maybe if we could find a witness or something…”
“We don’t need a witness,” Brie says suddenly.
