Page 54 of Rebels & Rejects

“What?”

“You’ve been eyeing up every guy in the room.”

I turn in my chair to face him, scrutinizing him closely before I respond. “If you’re not after territory and power, then I don’t really understand what it is you want.”

Oliver smiles softly, but there’s pain behind it, telling of past suffering. With a tilt of his head toward the back corridor, he says, “Let’s go to Cain’s office. We can talk about it there.”

Unsure but definitely curious, I follow him to Cain’s office, finding the brooding asshat sitting behind the desk as he works away on a laptop. He looks up as we enter, his gaze zeroing straight in on me. I’m immediately assaulted with the memory of what it felt like to have him balls deep inside me last night, and even though it was some fucking fantastic sex, I should have never allowed it to happen. I can see it in the cruel curl of his lips, and I justknowbefore he opens his mouth, that his words are going to cut.

He reaches across the desk for a small, brown paper bag and tosses it my way. “Take that. And I need to know if you have any diseases so I can get it taken care of.”

My cheeks burn, and my teeth grate together as I open the bag, pulling out a medication box. My eyes scan the front of the packet,Plan B. That fucking asshole.

I snap my gaze to him, glowering. “Seriously?” I hiss. I chuck the damn thing at him. “I don’t need that, I have an implant, you shithead.”

“Ehh, what is going on right now?” Oliver asks, his gaze bouncing between Cain and me, his brows drawn together in confusion.

Cain latches onto the question, his grin broadening. It’s bitter and cruel, and before he even opens his mouth, I know his words are intended to hurt. “Didn’t she tell you? We fucked last night. Not sure I see what the fuss is about, though. She was just alright. Three stars at best.”

I’m going to fucking murder this bastard.

I swear I see fucking red as I stare daggers into his skull. “What the fuck did you just say?” I snarl furiously, taking a menacing step toward him. “Seriously, fucking say that again.”

“Whoa, hey,” Oliver snaps, stepping between us. He pins me with an unreadable look, and I can’t tell if he’s pissed off at the revelation. Not that he would have any right to be—well, maybe he’d have a little justification since I slept with him this morning.God, this is getting complicated.“Is this what you needed to talk to us about?”

A half-hysterical laugh bursts out of me. “Hell no. I came to tell you both that the Reaper is willing to help you.” I tap my finger against my lip and tilt my head to the side as if I’m thinking. “But now I’m not so sure getting caught up in whatever bullshit you’re playing here is a wise idea.”

You could hear a pin drop as both Oliver and Cain gape at me.

“He’s going to help us?” Oliver asks.

I snort. “Not anymore.”

I’m lying. Mostly. Maybe. I didn’t even get to completely make up my mind, but the thought of dangling the possibility in front of Cain after the shit he just pulled was just too good to pass up. Although, now that I’ve said the words aloud, maybe it’s not such a crazy idea.

Ha, no, it’s definitely fucking insane. But maybe it’s something that I need to be a part of. Perhaps it’s time that I step out of the shadows and show the overlords of this city what I’m truly capable of. I reallyreallydon’t want to work with Cain, but I also don’t want to find my brother dead in the street because his death was a necessary casualty in whatever fucked up game the Antonellis are playing or any other fucking street gang who thinks they can do whatever the hell they want and get away with it. I’m fucking sick of it and, so help me god, if Cain can help change things around here, then I guess I’m willing to fucking work with him.

That doesn’t mean I can’t make him suffer first, though.

Oliver turns his head to sear Cain with a stern look, and I can see some wordless discussion going on between them. Cain’s jaw gets tighter with every passing second, and I can only imagine the silent conversation is not going his way.

“She could be fucking lying,” he eventually snaps out. “We don’t even know if she knows the Reaper.”

I throw my hands up in exasperation. It’s like dealing with a bunch of children. “Are you kidding me?!” I snap. “Iamthe fucking Reaper.”

There’s another moment of stunned silence as that information sinks into their brains. A myriad of emotions crosses their faces, each of them trying to put the puzzle pieces together.

After a minute, Cain snorts and shakes his head, quirking a brow at Oliver. “The bitch is fucking delusional!”

“Rude much,” I snark, making his intense, green gaze snap to mine. “I’m standing right here, I can fucking hear you.”

“Prove it,” Cain dares me, his voice dripping with that haughty arrogance that tells me he’s so fucking confident that I’m bullshitting them.

I return his arrogant stare with a confident one of my own. “You want me to carve a pretty little R in your abdomen? Or maybe you’d rather I slit your throat?”

His eyes narrow at that casual threat, and I can see the muscle working in the back of his jaw. “I’d love to see you fucking try,” he hisses.

I move to take a menacing step toward him, although I’ve got no idea what I’m going to do. Despite my fingers itching to throw a blade at his fucking head, most of my skill set lies in catching my targets unaware. I rely heavily on my targets being high, inebriated, or horny when I make my move. I can hold my own in a fight, but I couldn’t take on someone like Cain. I work best when I catch people by surprise. Besides, I don’t actually have a blade on me. The gun I had underneath my jacket when I met Enzo must have gotten dislodged in the explosion yesterday. I hadn’t even realized until this morning when I was looking for it—which shows just how fucked in the head I was last night.

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