Page 65 of Prisoner

It’s been just over a week since me and Theo called a truce at the waterfall, and I’ve rarely let her out of my sight since. Partly because now that I’ve feasted on her pussy with my mouth and dick, I can’t get enough. But not today.

There’s no way I was letting her see her father. More importantly, there’s no way I’m letting him catch wind of the fact she’s here and not still at the prison. So I locked her in my room.

She was sleeping peacefully after I’d worn her out. Sure, I had motives behind the fucking today, not just purely for our pleasure, but I needed her relaxed and tired out enough for me to leave her there and lock her in.

She’ll give me shit for it, but what’s new with us?

No, I need Kennedy Harlow to still believe she’s rotting away in that prison.

Me and Dax have been working tirelessly these past few weeks, trying to figure out who had a hit on Theo, and in result of that, who murdered Puck.

Kennedy is the only suspect who makes any sense, so I need information. Not only that, but we still haven’t figured out who was anonymously transferring all that money to him right before the hit went out.

Shit smells bad, and it smells exactly like Kennedy Harlow.

I sit up straight, knocking my ankles off the edge of the desk, and gulp down the last two fingers in my glass. Dax rounds the desk and stands next to me, arms folded, with his game face on.

I rise from my chair and stand with him. We’re equals. This District is ours, not mine. And Kennedy will continue to falter when he realises we’re both reigning this empire. They all will.

There’s a knock at the door before it opens, one of the guards ushering in Kennedy and discreetly closing the door, then disappearing after it clicks shut.

“Ahh, boys.” Kennedy raises his chin, flicking his eyes between me and Dax before finally settling on me. I ignore his patronising comment, knowing he’s trying to get under my skin.

“Kennedy.” I nod to the armchair, insisting he sits. He does so, and I round the desk, pouring him a glass as I go. Handing it over to him, he takes a hesitant sip before putting it down on the table next to him.

“Mr Harlow, thank you for coming today,” Dax says, ever the polite one in conversation.

“Jesus Christ, kid, how many times do I have to tell you to call me Kennedy?”

Dax just nods gently, but I smirk at how easy it is to rile him up.

“What do you want, Rhivers? I’ve got shit to do,” he huffs.

I quirk my brow at the use of our last name. Last names in my line of business are usually used for an enemy, and this is just another tally in his long list of reasons not to trust him.

“We wanted to thank you for your payment for Theodora’s placement at the District Prison,” Dax starts.

“Long overdue,” I butt in before Dax continues as if I didn’t speak.

“Now that we have the money, her place is set and she can continue to stay there.”

Kennedy huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Look, I don’t give a shit where she stays. She lost any loyalty from me when she murdered an ally. A colleague. A friend, might I add.”

I scoff at his endearments for my father, knowing it’s all bullshit anyway.

“I can’t have my District being jeopardised by your threats, so I paid. I’m hoping to move on. She’s of no use to me now,” he finishes, picking up his tumbler.

“Is that why you had her murdered?” I question casually.

Kennedy stills, the brown liquid sloshing in the glass at the sudden stop in movement. His eyes are wide and confused.

“She’s dead?” he almost whispers, his face paling.

Interesting reaction for someone who says they don’t give a shit.

“Funnily enough no, your guy failed. Managed to kill someone else instead.” I squirm inside at my insensitivity to Puck, but I can’t show any vulnerabilities in front of him.

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