“Now, Luna.”
She wanted to argue, protest further, but as she opened her mouth to do just that, shuffling back in the office had Kit palming his gun.
“Boss? Is everything—”
The second he cleared the entryway, Kit plugged two bullets into his chest, then one final one in his head.
They were out of time.
Starting across the floor, he grabbed Luna's arm, intending to drag her out if he had to, but she snatched her arm free, muttering words he couldn’t hear—though he was pretty sure he wouldn’t have liked what she said—then looked back to her friend.
She shook her head, whispering softly as she gingerly laid the girl back down, then moved to her feet. She barely spared Lawrence a glance as she went over to his body and jerked the knives she’d left embedded in him out.
Luna left the room without waiting for him.
Calavera, he though staring after her.
Day of the dead.
Aidra was waiting by the door near the back exit, her gaze intense and scrutinizing as she took them in. Kit knew their time had been up, but Aidra had remained—it seemed everyone was breaking the rules.
On the drive back to the penthouse, Luna never spoke a word.
He was talking to Aidra, but Luna wasn’t listening—nor did she particularly care.
She wasn’t sure at what point her sadness at Cat’s fate had shifted to anger, but once it hit her, she welcomed it—anything but the cloaking sadness that threatened to tear her up.
The second the doors opened and she could walk inside, Luna didn’t hesitate in stopping in the kitchen, bending down to the liquor cabinet and grabbing the first bottle she saw.
She didn’t bother looking at the label, nor did she particularly care what kind it was, she just wanted something she knew would take the pain away.
Luna wasn’t thinking about the fact that she and Kit were sharing a room, or that all of her things were tucked away inside of it. Instead, she headed for one of the spare rooms he’d told her about, closing and locking the door before she headed into the bathroom where she ran a bath.
Screwing the cap off the bottle, she tipped it to her lips, drinking down the burning liquid without hesitation. It seared her throat before settling into her stomach, but as the pleasant warmth began to spread, she didn’t think about that.
Slowly, she wasn’t thinking about anything at all.
Despite her earlier intentions as she sunk into the bath, she let the water burn away the rest of her feelings until she was in a pleasant state of warmness.
There was no pain and death.
There was no heartache and loss.
There was nothing—and she loved it.
Even the shallow cuts on her hands didn’t bother her—if anything, she was glad to see them.
They were a reminder that in the end, she’d had the last laugh with Lawrence—she was no longer the victim.
“Luna.”
She startled at the sound of Kit’s voice outside the bathroom door, water splashing onto the floor as she sat up. But he didn’t come in, nor did she see the handle move.
But that didn’t make a difference when she knew she had locked the other door.
“Did you seriously break in here?” she asked, glaring at the door as though he could see her.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t?” he retorted, his voice strained.
She knew he was upset with her because she hadn’t followed his plan to the letter. It was supposed to be a simple in-and-out assignment that she had botched in favor of torturing the hell out of Lawrence.
Kit’s instructions had always been rather clear—you didn’t play with your victims.
He was precise that way.
She had fully intended to follow his rules, at least until she saw Cat and what the monster had done to her.
Rational thought had fled.
She’d wanted Lawrence to hurt, to feel the pain he had caused so many others, and the last thing she wanted to do was apologize for it.
“If you want to debrief,” she called, “let’s do it later.”
There was a moment of silence before Kit was opening the door and strolling inside, as though she wasn’t glaring daggers at him, and he’d been invited.
“Or we can do it now,” he said, going to lean against the sink counter. “What you did was reckless and stupid.”
“Considering I’m sitting right here listening to you, I disagree. I had it under control. You didn’t—”
“You're paid to do an assignment, nothing more.”
“And I did it. Uilleam only asked that he die, not how to kill him. I knew what time we needed to be out of there—I told you the second you came in that room with me. So why are you giving me shit?”