Page 24 of My End
They’d be seated at the same dinner table in just a few hours.
It was like the universe was dangling them in front of me on a silver platter.
All it would take was one phone call.
One message to Yarder and the Fiends.
We could storm the compound, take them out, and finish this tonight, but I knew that wasn’t the way.
Not yet.
We needed more.
Boone’s house was a vault. What I needed was the key to unlock it. I needed files. Photos. Audio. Names. Dates. Connections.
That meant biding my time and playing the part.
Winning trust and then striking when it would hurt the most.
Jim slapped my shoulder hard. “Get ready. Boone’s dinner hours are sacred.”
I nodded and watched as he walked away.
I stood there for another minute, staring at the door Boone had disappeared through.
Then I turned back toward the house.
Toward my mission.
Toward my revenge.
And the final game began.
Chapter Ten
Tilly
I stood in front of the full-length mirror and tilted my head as I smoothed my hands down the front of my outfit. Flowing, wide-leg pants in a soft amber hue sat high on my waist. I had cinched them with a woven leather belt I’d snagged at a flea market last year. My blouse was sheer ivory lace with sleeves wide and billowing, and the neckline just low enough to toe the line between earthy and sexy. Underneath, a rust-colored bralette peeked through. It could be scandalous by dinner standards, but entirely me.
A few strands of my hair were braided and clipped back with a brass moon pin, and the rest fell wild around my shoulders. My cheeks were flushed from the heat of the studio, and my lips glossed with a berry tint. I had a smudge of purple paint on the inside of my wrist I hadn’t noticed until now. I tried to scrub it off, failed, and shrugged.
“This is as good as it’s gonna get,” I muttered to myself and stepped away from the mirror.
Downstairs, the dining room was already set. Three place settings. A little hiccup of dread crawled up my throat.
Please be a mistake. Please just be an extra setting and not for a surprise guest.
I took my usual seat at the long, dark cherrywood table. The chandelier overhead sparkled, crystal and brass glittering in the low light, and the wallpaper was a cream damask with gold filigree. The whole room felt like a museum. It was elegant, formal, and entirely Boone. Not a damn thing in here felt like me.
Adam walked in with his usual quiet flair, a crisp linen towel over one arm. “Water?” he asked as he picked up the pitcher and began pouring without waiting for my answer.
I frowned at his tone.
“Wine?” he asked next.
I gave him a playful glare. “Do we have any sangria?”
He paused just long enough to wink. “You got it.” He swept out of the room with the empty wine glass in hand, and I blew out a sigh.
