Page 74 of Twisted Lies

“It can wait,” Elijah says coldly. His tone would send most men running away, but not Chris.

“Boss, it’s important.”

Elijah stands. “Excuse me for a moment, Lily,” he says, giving me his hand, expecting me to take it and leave. What I’m about to do is not going to make him happy.

“I’ll keep our guest company,” I respond, giving my most innocent smile. He frowns, knowing I’m up to something, but his hands are tied behind his back. If Jace finds out who I am too soon, it could mean more blood being spilled. He sends me a look as if to tell me not to do anything reckless, and thankfully leaves. It must be urgent for him to leave me in the room. He has Antonio here as well. I guess he hopes that will be enough of a deterrent. I wonder if it’s something to do with Rebecca, and I feel a pang of guilt.

I pour Jace a drink and hand it to him. He nods his thanks and looks over my shoulder, not bothering to make small talk. My hand inches under the desk, seeking the cold metal of the gun I know Elijah keeps hidden. I breathe a sigh of relief when I feel it under my fingers. I don’t have long. Elijah won’t leave us long. Antonio eyes me from the wall but keeps silent.

The blood flashes through my mind, but I push back with everything I have. This is not the time. I’m strong enough and can do this. I’m going to do this for them and for me.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” I ask. My question finally causes him to meet my eyes.

“Should I?” he asks, taking another sip of his drink as if I were nothing.

“Lily Peterson.” It’s the first time I’ve spoken my last name out loud in years. When I first ran, I would repeat my full name as I fell asleep, reminding myself who I was, but never out loud.

The glass rests against his lips, and I wait for the realization to hit. “Phil’s daughter.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve hidden well. You’re supposed to be dead.”

“Close,” I answer, and feel my smile turn sadistic. My fingers grip the gun before pulling it out. Giving the trigger a slight squeeze, the shot rings out—the glass slips from his fingers. With a shocked expression, he looks down at the wound. Red forms at the site, and for the first time, I stay in reality at the sight of blood. Antonio races forward while Elijah’s men pile in at the sound of the shot and glance between Jace and me, quickly realizing I was the one who pulled the trigger. Elijah appears a second later and takes in the scene.

No one moves, and time seems to slow down as I watch him take his last breaths.

I try feeling something, watching him die, but I feel nothing. Placing the gun on the desk, I meet each and every man’s gaze in the room. “Leave us,” Elijah orders. They leave as quickly as they had appeared. Once they are gone, he steps to the side of Jace, resting his finger against his neck. “He’s dead.”

“That was the point,” I respond with no emotion.

“I told you I would take care of him.”

“I know. It was something I needed to do. For them. You of all people should understand,” I answer.

“I wish you would have trusted me to handle it.”

“I did. It had nothing to do with you. It was about me.”

He meets my eyes, and I communicate with him in ways that words never could. I know he understands, even if he’s pissed.

“I know. I knew the moment I left the room this was going to be the outcome. I should never have left. I didn’t want you to have this on your conscience.”

“I know it’s going to sound crazy, but I don’t regret it. I know I should, but I don’t. He’s been in my nightmares for so long that having him gone is amazing. I know he wasn’t the one who gave the order, and I know more people were involved, but he was the one who killed my brother. I don’t feel bad for being the one to end him.”

“Maybe I’m rubbing off on you,” he mutters.

I laugh. I can’t help it. This is not the time to laugh, but it escapes. “Maybe. Can you handle it?” I ask, stepping into his arms. His arms encase me, and I breathe in his scent.

“I can handle all of you—your past along with your future. It’s you and me. Good and bad,” he says, kissing the top of my head.

“I love you. The good and the bad.”

“Just as I love you.”

We stand there in each other’s arms, neither of us wanting to release the other.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, concerned about the trouble I’ve placed him in.

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