Page 43 of Bully's Darkness
I rub my hands over my face, dragging them down like it’ll take the weight with them. It doesn’t. I feel heavier, like I’m carrying guilt I can’t name and regret I’m too damn proud to admit. I replay her words, every one of them sharper than the last.“We’re not a team . . . I’m done begging for a place at your table . . .”
Goddamn it.
I wanted to protect her, to keep her out of all this. But somewhere along the line, I stopped seeing her and started seeing a liability. Another threat I couldn’t control. Liv’s never been the weak spot—I am. Because she matters . . . too fucking much.
The worst part? I saw the hurt before she even spoke and I still let it happen. I still accused her.
I slam my fist on the desk. The sound echoes, but it’s not enough. Nothing is.
Whizz is digging into the Scorpions, and the closer we get to the truth, the more twisted it all feels. Liv might’ve been the one caught in the crossfire, but I’m the one who lit the fuse. And if I lose her? That might be the one price I can’t afford.
The office door opens, and Whizz stands there with a grim expression, laptop balanced in one hand and his mobile in the other.
“We got some information on Dagger’s wife.” I frown as he enters, placing the computer on my desk. “She’s dead. Suspected suicide,” he side-eyes me, “which fits with our grief theory. But I also traced a few payments around the time of her death, and it looks suspicious.” He turns the laptop to me. “Her name was Lila Carson.” The room stills, and my lungs stop working.Lila. Her picture stares back at me, filling the screen and mocking me. I can almost hear her laughter ring out.
“You alright, Pres?” he asks.
I force a nod. “Call church,” I mutter. “I’ll be right there.” I need a moment to compose myself.
Ten minutes later, I head in to find everyone seated. Lila’s image is on the big screen, and I avoid looking at it as I turn to Whizz. “Get it off screen,” I mutter.
“But, Pres, I—”
“Get it down,” I yell, slamming the gavel down as he rushes to click off the image. “Go over what you know so far,” I add, bracing my hands on the edge of the table and lowering my head.
“Lila Carson. Wife of Darren Carson, or as we know him, Dagger. It’s the anniversary of her death this month. Two years.” He glances my way before adding. “She was a prison officer.”
“Where?” asks Taz, looking back and forth between me and Whizz like he already knows the answer.
“Lincoln,” we answer in unison.
“She was on my wing,” I add, my tone lower.
“She was suspended,” Whizz continues, “and supposedly took her own life six months later, right before her disciplinary hearing.”
“Supposedly?” Boss queries.
“Yeah. I went over some transactions that stood out around that time.” Whizz clicks some buttons, and the screen appears up on the board again. “That one is to the previous crime commissioner,” he states, “or an offshore company he owns. I’m suspecting it’s why the story never made the news.”
“Of her death?” asks Taz.
“That, and the fact she was suspended from her job.”
“Why would any of that make the news?” asks Lords.
I take a breath. “Because she was suspended for gross misconduct,” I mutter, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Engaging in an inappropriate sexual relationship with a prisoner.”
Silence falls over the room. I hold my breath, waiting for them to catch on.
Taz is the first to move, his hand slams down on the table, the sound sharp. “Jesus, Pres. You fucked a screw?”
I scrub a hand down my face and sink into the seat beside him. “It was more than that,” I say, my voice rough with disgust. “For her, anyway.”
“Wait . . . how the fuck did she get that job if she was married to a criminal?” Boss asks, frowning.
“I can answer that,” Whizz says, already pulling something up on his screen. “They paid for her to get in.”
He taps the screen, showing a digital trail of transaction exchanges. “Money from the Scorpions went to the crime commissioner. He’s since retired but still sits on the board of governors at Lincoln. I think she was their inside mule, bringing in class A for the gangs to sell.”
