Page 101 of His Property

I can’t fucking figure it out.

But I do know one thing for certain. Cora doesn’t bluff.

Gritting my teeth, I lower my gun. “What the fuck do you want?”

“Put the gun on the ground and kick it to me.”

“First, tell me—”

“Now!”

The gun shakes in TJ’s hand, and I meet his eyes. He’s probably my best chance of catching Cora off guard. He doesn’t want to do this.

Would he kill Cora if it meant protecting Mae?

I crouch and place my gun on the ground before standing straight and kicking it a few feet. Cora rolls her eyes, then snaps at TJ. “Pick it up.”

TJ bends and picks up my weapon, then backpedals and hands the gun to Cora, his gun never pointing away from me. She tosses it on the ground, then eases her finger off the trigger.

“Good,” she says, smirking. “Now tell me where the hell you put my box.”

Confusion fogs my mind, and my brow furrows. “What box?”

“You know exactly what box,” she sneers.

I shake my head. “Cora, whatever shit you had is at the dump. Gabi already told you—”

“Just tell me where you fucking put it!”

I close my mouth and hesitate to answer. I have no idea what she’s talking about or what could be worth luring me to some abandoned warehouse.

“What do you mean‘yourbox,’” TJ asks, his head turning enough so that he can see Cora. Right now would be a perfect time to take his gun, but I can’t risk Cora beating me to the trigger. She would win.

She doesn’t answer him, and her glare stays on me.

TJ turns back to me, and his eyes narrow. “The baseball hat you kept that belonged to Cora’s student,” he says, only making me more confused. “Where is it?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, my frustration building.

“Yourtrophy,” he tries to clarify further.

Trophy.

Thatword means something to me. Mostly because it’s been hammered into my mind not to take any. It’s a very,verybig rule in the familia to not hang on to the possessions of victims, which to me seems obvious. I’ve never wanted to hang on to anything anyway, but it must be the dumbest thing a killer could do.

I don’t keep trophies.

So that means it’s… Cora’s?

Cora isn’t a killer. Not yet, at least.

… Is she?

Cora’s head tilts, and she must see the confusion taking over me. For a moment, it feels like she’s reading my thoughts.

“You really don’t know, do you?” she asks, a sinister grin stretching her lips.

When I don’t answer, she laughs.

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