Page 20 of Silent Schemes
He drops into the chair across from mine, exhausted.
The leather groans under his weight. “You say that like it’s predetermined.”
“Nothing’s predetermined.” I sip, savor. “But some things are inevitable.”
He stares at the wall, at the knife display. “She’s good.”
“She’s the best,” I agree.
“So, what’s the plan?” he asks.
I swirl the glass, watch the legs run down the side. “She’s going to show up at The Black Crown. She’ll sit at the bar, wait for me to make the first move. She’ll have a weapon, maybe two. She’ll know I’ll disarm her, so she’ll have a backup I don’t find. She’ll poison my drink.” I nod at the glass in my hand.
He looks at his, sets it down slowly. “Fuck.”
“We’ll watch her. Let her get close.” I lean in, voice going even quieter. “She wants to see what happens when the wolf bites back.”
Will sighs, then nods, resigned. “Are you going alone?”
“Of course,” I say. “Can’t kill the queen in a crowded room. Has to be up close. Personal.”
He stands, tugging at his cuffs. “You want a tail on her?”
“Already have two.” I gesture to the monitors behind me. “She’s been followed since she left the roof. She knows. She’s playing it like a paparazzi experiment. Cute in a way. Maybe they’ll get a tit shot for my personal collection.”
Will runs a hand through his hair.
He’s lost three shades of color since we started working together. “What if you’re wrong? What if she really does it?”
I set the glass down, and it sounds final. “Then she earns it. And she’ll know what it costs.”
He stares at me for a long beat, then turns for the door. “I don’t like it,” he says, voice tight.
“That’s why you’re not in charge,” I tell him.
It’s not a dig, just a fact.
He leaves.
I let the silence settle, then pick up the Sig.
The weight of it is perfect, like the future.
On the desk, the photo of Sienna stares up at me.
Tonight, then.
Let’s see who gets to draw first blood.
The Black Crown isn’t my favorite bar, but it’s the one I trust not to fuck things up.
I arrive early.
I always do.
I sweep the room with my eyes first, then with my hands—palming every glass, every napkin, every coaster.
Never know where they’ll hide the microphone or the poison.
