“You want me to get someone to help? ‘Cause I will. And you won’t like the consequences.”
My hand rose, the light from my side lamps kissing the blade with promise. “Do whatever you want, but I assure you it’ll be you who doesn’t like the—”
“Fine!”
Silence fell.
Animosity throbbed, slowly settling the longer we remained quiet.
Finally, a small whisper met my ears. “Just give me two minutes. Just listen. Can you do that? Or is that asking too much?”
I paused.
Two minutes was nothing in a lifetime. But two minutes to me was too high a cost. I existed on borrowed time.
“Why should I?” I drifted closer to the door despite myself.
“Because…it’s important.”
The genuine honesty in her voice dragged me forward. She sounded more real and true in that one microsecond than she had all afternoon.
Leaning around the dresser, I looked through the crack.
Not much was visible, but Jasmine’s face glowed in the dark corridor. Red-rimmed eyes, sad-bitten lips, and sorrow-dusted cheeks—she didn’t look well.
In fact, she looked ten years older than when I’d seen her at the meeting. Almost as if the past few hours had drained her of everything.
I wanted to slap myself.
Don’t believe it!
It was all an act. The perfect con-artist making me trust her because she looked so undone.
“It won’t work, you know.” I scowled. “I’m not buying into your sad sister act. Not after what you’ve done.”
Jasmine looked up, her face haggard. “I know you hate me. I feel it. But you have to put that aside and listen to me.”
If the door didn’t separate us, I’d wring her neck and throttle whatever conniving words she wanted to spout. “I don’t have to do anything.”
She reached through the door.
I stepped backward, raising my knife. “Don’t, unless you’re happy with four fingers instead of five.”
“God, why don’t you listen?!”
“Because I don’t believe a word you say!”
“No, not with your ears, you silly cow.”
I laughed. “Great way to get me to listen. Call me a cow again and we’ll see—”
“Didn’t Jethro teach you anything?”
I froze.
Livid rage cascaded down my back, into my legs, my arms, my mind. “Don’t you ever—”
“Talk about him? He’s my brother. He’s been mine a lot longer than he’s been yours.”
My ears bled. “Was, don’t you mean. He was yours. But he’s gone. He doesn’t belong to either of us, and that’s all your fault!”
She sighed, rubbing her face with her hands. “Why are you so damn stubborn?”
“Why are you so damn confusing?” My eyes dropped to her attire.
I paused, forehead furrowing.
A black blanket covered her legs, along with a black hoodie and black gloves. She’d either taken mourning to a new extreme and fashioned her pyjamas in darkness too, or…
“What are you up to, Jaz?”
Her eyes wrenched up. “Finally! You finally ask a decent question.” She looked over her shoulder. “Let me in. I’ll tell you.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Not going to happen.”
“I don’t have all freaking night, Nila. Let me inside before it’s too late.”
My heart skipped a beat. “What—what do you mean? Too late?”
“I’ll tell you if you open the door.”
“Tell me before I open the door.”
I wasn’t na?ve anymore. I wouldn’t fall for any more Hawk traps.
She had her motives and secrets—same as everyone else. Only, what she’d said about listening…what did she mean? With my instincts? With my heart? What could she possibly have to tell me that I didn’t already know?
She was a heartless bitch who should’ve died and not her brother.
She scowled, her sleek black bob pinned back from her face. The more I looked at her, the more my heart raced. Something was off—something was wrong.
She looked like a ninja about to go on a robbery spree.
She looked as if she knew something I didn’t.
She looked as if everything she’d lived through the past few hours was a lie. And this was the truth.