Page 53 of Web of Lies
Chloé raises an eyebrow, her voice dripping with fake innocence. "You're not the only one with secrets, Riley. Kyle got some, too," she says with a chuckle. "The kind of secrets that might make you wish you'd never met him." Chloé shoots Riley a wicked smile before turning to walk away, her voice quieter and more mocking as she moves toward me. "Tell her who you really are." I remain silent, looking back and forth between Chloé and Riley.
"What is she talking about, Kyle?" Riley asks as her eyes lock with mine.
"Come on, Kyle," Chloé taunts while Riley's eyes burn into me, her confusion morphing back into fear. I need to say something—anything—to make this stop and take back control.
"Enough!" I shout, the words bursting from my throat like a violent storm.
"You coward," Chloé snorts.
"Kyle, what is she talking about?" I look back at her but remain silent, which fuels her irritation. "Kyle, tell me what is going on," she says, raising her voice.
"Yes, come on, Kyle. Tell her," Chloé chimes in again.
Their voices blur into static noise, overlapping and piling on top of each other until it swallows me. Sweat beads on the back of my neck and slides down my spine. My hands twitch at my sides, my fingers clenching and unclenching in search of something to hold on to. It feels like claws are tearing me open, searching for answers. The room tilts, and the floor whirls beneath me, and all I want is silence—just one second of quiet.
"I'm the Butcher," I snap, my voice bouncing off the old brick walls. "Happy now?"
Riley's eyes widen in horror. She stares at me as if I had just ripped the floor out from under her. Her chest rises and falls frantically as panic crosses her face. "You're?" Her voice cracks, each word rough with emotion.
"Yes. I am!" I shout again, my voice hoarse with frustration.
"No, no, no." The word tumbles from her mouth again and again, like a broken mantra. She shakes her head violently, her copper hair falling across her face. "You can’t be. Not you." Her voice cracks on the last word.
Chloé suddenly bursts into thunderous laughter, clapping her hands with glee as if this were the funniest joke she had ever heard. My attention snaps to her when she jumps toward me, but the crack in my mind tears further. Unable to stop myself, I reach out, lock my hand around her throat, and slam her back against the wall. She gasps, her hands flying up to claw at my wrist while the man in the mask steps forward.
"No," she chokes out, shooting him a glare, and he falls back into position.
"You trained him well," I spit, and a grin spreads across her face.
"A man will do a lot if you let him use your throat however he wants." Her mouth falls open, and I spot the dark bruise at the back of her throat.
Of course. It's always the same with her. She wants to be used and, in return, makes men carry out her hits so she doesn't have to get her hands dirty. It's a twisted power game that neither she nor the men can win. As soon as she proposed the deal to me, I was out. I don't do other people's dirty work. I wanted to save her, but she's too far gone in her scheme, and all hope is lost. With every deal she closes, she digs her own grave deeper, and the day will come when it all comes back to haunt her.
My grip on her throat tightens. Her face flushes red, and her eyes bulge as tears stream down her cheeks. Perhaps killing her right now would be best. Put her out of her misery once and for all.
"Stop." Riley's voice echoes through the room, and my gaze shifts to her, but I don't ease my grip on Chloé.
"No. She hurt you, and I won't let anyone hurt the person I love," I bark.
"Let her go." The words rip from her throat. "You're killing her." I don't budge as my chest seethes with fury, blinding my vision. "Purple." Our safe word tears from Riley's throat. It hits me like a slap across the face, snapping me out of the raging storm in my mind. In an instant, I let go of Chloé, who stumbles back. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth hangs open as she struggles to breathe, gasping for air. She turns her attention to the man beside Riley. His fists are clenched, and his knuckles are white, as if it takes every ounce of control not to attack me. Through the mask, his eyes are locked on me like a predator ready to pounce.
"Let her go," Chloé chokes out, gagging on the air while holding her throat.
With fast, focused steps, he approaches Riley and starts untying her from the chair. Her limbs quiver as he helps her to her feet, steadying her with his arm as he escorts her to the door.
The moment the door shuts behind them, Chloé's eyes roll back. Her eyelids flutter shut, and her legs give out. I catch her before she hits the ground, slipping my arms around her and drawing her close to my chest.
"Who hired you?" I growl in her ear, lowering my voice. She hacks up a cough, her body trembling against mine. "Chloé," I say, tightening my hold. "Tell me who hired you." She leans into me, her body barely holding her up as she clutches my shirt as if it's the only thing keeping her on her feet.
"What do I get for it?" she rasps in a hoarse voice.
I let out a long breath. "You get to live. Because if you don't talk, then—" I lean closer and whisper, "Your next breath will be your very last." Her grip on my shirt tightens. Her shoulders jerk as a soft, choked sob leaks from her throat.
"It was a small, secret department within the city administration. They track down criminals by using other criminals." Chloé chokes out between snotty sobs.
I take a deep breath through my nose, trying to stay calm, even though my blood is boiling. "So, she's wanted by them? Why?"
"She was sent to find information on the Butcher," she chokes out, speaking incoherent nonsense. "But she failed." I figured that out by now.
