Page 43 of Iris' Lying Eyes

What’s his deal? Did something go wrong with Stephen?

And why is he meeting with McCafferty’s men? Something isn’t right, and my skin prickles with unease. What am I missing?

Once we’re free of the doors, I suck in a breath and raise my head to the stars.

I definitely failed that test with John. Now what? Maybe I’m not as convinced as I thought I was, which is bad news. I can’t go back to him; I’ll die if I do. It’s as simple and as frightening as that.

“What’s your deal?” Bastion says and I avert my gaze.

I have zero desire to rehash what just went down for multiple reasons—the front runner being my weakness. What would have happened if Bastion hadn’t stepped in?

Stopping at the vehicle I say, “Nothing. Are we going home?”

I can feel Bastion’s glare on the back of my neck, but I ignore it long enough to pull myself together, even if I feel brittle. When I turn, I’ve summoned a bland look which, judging by the way his mouth thins, he doesn’t appreciate.

He glances around, and with a trickle of unease, I follow suit. What would he do if John were out here? What would I do?

Shaking it off, I slide into the vehicle and scoot over. Once Bastion is beside me, we pull away.

I can feel his suspicion from here, and I know I have to deflect, but damn, I could use a moment to regroup first. When has that ever been an option? Basically never.

Pasting a bitchy smile on my face, I swing his way. “What?”

His brows drop over his eyes. “What happened back there? You zoned out.”

“What did you expect?” I wave my hands around. “You brought me to drug central.”

His brows rise, and he rears back before rubbing his head. I follow the action, staring at the ‘you’ tattooed on his hand.

I hate that there are so many lies between us, but he’d only hate me more if he knew the truth. Maybe hate based on lies is preferable because I can pretend it’s not my fucking fault.

Whatever. I turn away, and he shifts before saying quietly, “I didn’t think.”

Quirking my lips, I say, “Is that an apology?”

He chuffs, and I sigh. “Too bad.”

We drop into silence after that, and I brood until the car slows, frowning to find another fucking building surrounded by vehicles. Although this is more remote, with trees on all sides.

Where the fuck are we? I know I was bored, but fuck, I’ll happily go back and watch mind-numbing television if it means I don’t have to do this.

Whatever it is.

“Now what?” I mumble, and Bastion sighs.

“Just stay in the fucking car. I won’t be long.”

He’s gone before I can protest, not that I would. Thank fuck. At least I have a reprieve. I don’t have it in me to put my game face on. Shit, I must be slipping.

Closing my eyes, I lean my head against the seat and try for calm, which is impossible. My mind races with all kinds of scenarios, the worst being my total surrender to John.

I have to take care of the fucker, but what if I end up sucked back in instead? No way. I’d rather die, which isn’t off the menu, by the way.

Tired of my thoughts, I stare out the window at the sea of cars. They’re all black SUVs with tinted windows. Most are empty, but I spy a few with thugs hanging out, no doubt waiting for their lord and master to arrive.

The building beyond is lit up, but there are no sounds of partying like at the last venue. Although curious, I wisely turn away but after a while, I grow restless and step from the vehicle to stretch my legs.

No one remains by our car, and I assume Bastion’s man disappeared inside with the others.

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