“Hello, Daya,” I greet, my mask falling into place as I smirk and step away from Addie.
My little mouse is embarrassed. I note the hint of shame, but it was expected. It’s going to take time for Addie to truly accept within herself that she has given in to her stalker.
“What the hell? Is this him?”
My smirk widens, and I turn to look at Addie. “Have you been gossiping about me, little mouse? Did you tell her how big my cock is?”
Addie’s eyes pop comically. Her hand curls and swings it right into my chest. It feels like she just threw a slice of bread at me.
“Asshole! No!”
If it wasn’t for the small figure charging towards me, the loud stomping would be a clear indicator to the storm coming my way. I turn and swoop out of the way of another flying fist. This one packing a lot more punch.
That one might have felt like a whole loaf of bread.
I can tell the girl can hit, but fists don’t affect me these days. I’ve grown too accustomed to the bite of a bullet instead.
I laugh, catching Daya by her arm before she flies ass over teacup over the balcony.
She wouldn’t look so pretty with her face bashed in and her skull cracked open.
“Damn, you both woke up and chose violence today, huh?”
Daya rips her arm from my hand and glares at me, her pretty green eyes full of ire. And then she turns to Addie. “I thought we hated him.”
I cock a brow, also staring at Addie and waiting for her answer. At this point, she can lie and say she still does. I know the truth, and that’s what matters. I have a single feeling in my body, and it’s attached to the freckled-face girl who looks like she’s having a stroke. It’s going to take a lot more than her lying to her best friend to hurt it.
Addie's face is red and her mouth flops, but no words come out. She might even be going into cardiac arrest.
Daya trains her glare on me and opens her mouth, but I cut in, “I’d be very careful about your words and any swinging limbs. I do sign your paychecks.”
Her eyes widen, taken aback. “So it is you. You are Z?” she demands.
“What, does my face not meet your expectations?”
The look that comes over Daya's face is pure entertainment. I swear you can’t find this shit on T.V. anymore.
She flounders for an answer but comes up short. All she really can do is just stare.
“I hope you understand that Addie never really stood a chance. Don’t blame her.”
Addie crosses her arms, huffing at me and finally finding her voice. All I had to do was piss her off. “I make my own decisions, Zade. Quit acting like I didn’t have a choice.”
I just smile, letting her think what she wants. Whatever gets her pussy willingly wrapped back around my cock, I guess.
“You knew I already had suspicions, Addie. Why wouldn’t you just tell me?” This time, Daya’s voice softens, full of hurt and sadness. Addie's face drops, and that’s my cue to leave.
“I’m really sorry. I haven’t been sure how to even explain what’s happening with him.”
I take a step back, attracting both of their eyes. “I have to deal with the video. I have men stationed outside the property already.”
“What the hell? Why? I didn’t see any men,” Daya asks, her eyes widened with alarm.
“They’re not meant to be seen, Daya. You know that already, don’t you?” When her teeth click, I continue. “You two kiss and make up. I trust your judgment so whatever you decide to divulge, you have my permission.”
Addie bites her bottom lip, glancing at her best friend with guilt.
“I’ll see you later, little mouse.” I wink at her suggestively, and her eyes narrow in response.
Daya sputters, but I’m out the door before she can relearn how to speak again. I’ve got far more pressing matters to deal with than Daya's newly developed speech impediment.
Chapter 36
The Manipulator
I
look down at my hands like a scolded child. After Satan’s Affair, I had admitted Zade and I had sex, but I still didn’t confirm his identity to her, and she hadn’t asked. I think she was too concerned with my mental health to think about it. Rightfully so.
Regardless, if I had just been upfront and told Daya that I couldn’t share details about Zade and Mark, I think she would’ve learned to accept it. It was lying to her that hurt her most.
She followed me down to the kitchen, her anger a heavy gaze burning into the back of my head the entire way. And now, she glares at me from across the island.
“How long have you known? And why are there men stationed outside the house? And he trusts you to tell me what?”
I bite my lip. “For a little while,” I confess. “Look, I didn’t say anything because his involvement with Mark is top secret. I didn’t want you to keep asking questions that I wasn’t sure I could answer. It wasn’t my story to tell and what he’s doing is incredibly sensitive.”
“Did you know who he was when I asked you about him before Satan’s Affair?”
I cringe and nod my head, confirming what she already knew. Hurt flashes in her eyes, and all I want to do is cry—the guilt I’ve been carrying for lying to her bleeds from my pores.
She blows out a breath and nods, accepting my answer for what it is. “Okay, fine. Can you tell me now?”
I go on to explain Zade’s current mission, outside of bringing down pedophile rings. About the sick rituals being performed on little children and how hard Zade has been working to find the location and bring it down. Daya listens attentively, face souring as I explain the horrific things being done to innocent children, aside from being tortured and trafficked.
As if that wasn’t fucking bad enough.
“I’d like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not,” Daya mutters, fidgeting with the hoop in her nose. “So Zade killed Mark because of these rituals?”
“Not exactly, though it definitely played a part in it. Remember how we saw him at Satan’s Affair?” When she nods, I continue. “Apparently, Mark targeted us that night and had made a call for someone to come… extract us.”
I explain Zade’s role that night, and how he had made sure that Daya and I never ended up in the back of a van. Even worse, how the Society has put a target on my head, and that Mark was trying to fulfill that.
As I continue telling her everything I know, Daya stares at me with a somber expression on her face.
When I finish, she stays quiet. Halfway through the story, I poured us both a shot of vodka. We both needed the liquid courage to hear about just how fucked up this world can be.
“I’ll be keeping an eye on you as well,” Daya says after a few moments. Silence had settled in, and as it stretched on, I grew more and more anxious that she was going to walk out.
I hurt her.
“You don’t have to do that,” I say, my voice small.