Page 246 of Intense
His dark eyes snap to mine. “It involves you dying. Someone else holding the gun. Just long enough for me to swoop in and hand them over to your husband. Play the hero. Win their trust. And then I’ll take London back piece by piece as a ghost again.”
I nod slowly, masking the fear that claws at me. He’s going to kill me.
“Or,” I counter, forcing a smirk, “you could not kill me. And I just keep my mouth shut, pretend this never happened.”
He chuckles. “Good try. But I need the dramatics. Wait—what’s your name?”
“Angel,” I lie, voice steady despite the thundering of my heart.
His eyes narrow, and he presses the knife point into the chair between us. “My cousin, Ben, ran a strip club in America for me while I was pretending to be dead. He used to talk about an Angel that worked for him. Red hair. Fine ass. But he was always fucking some blonde chick. Until he got himself caught and I got his head delivered back to me.”
Ice crawls through my veins.
Holy shit.
Ben. The sleazy asshole who employed me. The club. All of it is tied to this. And here I am—back in their orbit. It was always leading me to Finn.
“I’m sorry about Ben,” I say quietly, my voice trembling in spite of myself.
“Yeah?” His lip curls. “Ask your husband how he died.”
Good. I think viciously. At least one of them is gone.
Tears prick at my eyes. What if I don’t even get the chance to ask Finn about it? What if I never get to tell him I love him again?
He said it once. Those words. They meant everything. Enough to bury all the pain in me. Enough to make dying feel almost worth it, if it comes to that. Because I was loved—fiercely, completely. The kind of love people search a lifetime for.
I just wish I’d had more time. To see him as a father. To see the life we could’ve built.
“What’s the matter, Angel?” he mocks.
Before I can answer, his phone rings. His eyes light up like a kid at Christmas.
“It’s almost showtime.”
My throat tightens as he stands abruptly, pacing like a madman.
“Arthur. We have a problem. Has anyone seen you come in yet?” His tone carries just enough fear to be convincing. “Good. Good. I’m in the systems room behind the cinema. Left door before you go in. Code is 4-5-2-3. First door on the left. Don’t be seen.”
He pauses, listening, then laughs. “What have I done? I’m getting us our empire back, brother. Like I’ve been doing for years. But I need your help, okay?”
His hand trembles, a vein bulging on his forehead as rage flashes in his eyes. “Just get here now.” He snaps the call shut.
The breath shudders out of him. He slams his fist into his laptop keyboard, the crack of plastic echoing.
“These motherfuckers,” he mutters.
“W-what?” My voice cracks.
“They’ve locked me out of the security feeds.”
His eyes close, his chest rising and falling as he fights for calm. Then his lips curve into that grin again.
“But it’s okay. Arthur’s coming. It’s going to work out.”
Relief flares in my chest. If they’ve hacked the systems, it means they’re onto him.
And if I know my husband, he’ll already be hunting for blood.
