Page 124 of Jig's Last Dance

My soul cracks and I lick my lips. My mouth is arid. “Why don’t you sound surprised?”

He doesn’t answer, but the stiff set to his shoulders is answer enough. Turning away, I grab my phone.

When I glance back, Jig is holding his head in his hands.

My heart jumps, and I smile, the expression so very wrong on my face. “Why did you lie?”

Slumping, he drops his hands and says, quietly, “Sunshine . . .”

“No, fuck you. Just tell me,” I say, drilling him with my stare.

His head flies up, a scowl marring his features. “Because if I told you, you would know.”

“This is it, isn’t it? Whatever you fuckers have been planning this whole time?” I rasp.

He eyes me warily before he exhales and says, “Yes, but Alice—”

“Just tell me,” I scream, waving my arms around.

Grabbing my arm, he shakes me until I wrench away with a sob. “Calm down,” he says.

“You calm the fuck down.”

He flinches at my acidic tone but says solemnly, “No one could confirm your dad’s death.”

My stomach somersaults, and I swallow past the burn in my throat. “So?”

With an ugly smile, he flings his arms wide and roars, “Your dad killed my sister. Did you really think he would get away with it?”

Stumbling back, I cover my mouth. Not because I’m surprised, but because deep down, I hoped for something more and now I’m not even left with a memory that isn’t tainted.

But the fucked-up road I’ve been trapped on has been leading to this since the beginning.

“You don’t look surprised either,” he sneers. “How long have you known?”

Dropping my hand, I say softly, “Not nearly long enough. Spell it out for me, Jig. How does messing with me get revenge on my father?”

“If I have you, he’ll come looking.”

Blankly, I stare into his wild eyes before a chuckle escapes my burning chest. And after, it’s a deluge I can’t stop.

“Alice,” he growls, and I pause, meeting his brilliant blue gaze.

What am I doing here? What is he doing? We’re both so fucked up, neither of us can let it go.

I point at him. “You thought you could take on a trained killer? Fucking idiot.”

“Alice. Fuck.”

I’ve heard enough, and even if I weren’t hell-bent on putting distance between us to save what’s left of his sanity, I need out before I break down.

He’s chasing a dream-turned-nightmare, and I’m the spawn of the very same devil.

Spinning away, I stalk to the door and pause. “The booze. Did you spike the booze, too?”

“No,” he says, and I huff.

His hesitation is all I need, and I toss out as I leave, “I could’ve died, dick. You’re just like them. Revenge only gets you one thing, though.”

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