Page 116 of Dirty Game
I agree. But I don’t say it. I watch the video one more time, looking for anything I missed.
The way her hands curl into fists, the way she looks past the camera, never at it.
She’s counting in her head. Numbers, languages, escape routes. She’s not giving up. Not yet.
The clock on the wall ticks over. Every second is a tick closer to another finger.
“Anyone? Anyone? Does fuckinganyonehave any fucking ideas?” I yell loud enough to startle Cyrus.
My phone buzzes again. This time, it’s a live feed.
Rosalynn sits in the chair, breathing hard, blood pooling at her feet.
The man with the knife leans in, whispering something in her ear. She shakes her head.
He slaps her.
Hard enough to snap her head sideways.
She blinks once, then locks eyes with the camera.
She says nothing.
I close the laptop. Stand. My vision narrows to a tunnel, every sound magnified.
Korrin is still running his mouth, but now there’s uncertainty in the edge of his words. “We could leave her. She’s not—she’s not family, not really. She was a means to an end. Killing Sienna and getting Dante are the priority.”
“SheandDante are the priority,” I say. I make sure the words are cold enough to freeze him in place.
He stops moving. “Are you serious?”
“I’m always serious.”
Cyrus looks up. “I have a way in. Can get us in by midnight. Maybe sooner, if we’re okay going in heavy.”
I look at my brothers, one at a time. “We go in. No negotiations. No trades.”
Korrin grins, savage. “That’s more like it.”
I nod once. “Suit up.”
They move. In seconds, the office is empty except for me and the ticking clock.
I stare at my reflection in the dark window. Blood on my shirt, old and new. Bags under my eyes. I look like a man who’s already lost.
But I haven’t lost yet.
My phone vibrates. It’s a text, no number. Just three words:
Come alone, King.
I type back:
See you soon.
Then I smash the phone against the desk until the battery pops free.
The clock on the wall keeps ticking, but now it’s counting down to something else.
