Page 60 of My Unhinged Alphas
“I didn’t know him,” she says quickly. “He probably gave me fake info.”
“Right.”
I let the word hang there.
Maybe she’s lying. Maybe she’s not. Doesn’t matter much to me yet. People always say they don’t know anything. Didn’t see anything. Didn’t hear anything. Sometimes they’re even telling the truth as they understand it.
Truth is a flexible thing.
Memory too.
And fear? Fear changes both.
She hears something in my tone, because her expression changes again. More cautious now. “What does that mean?” she asks.
I shrug. “Means I have my own methods of finding the truth.”
Her eyes narrow. “Like what?”
I don’t answer right away. I turn and look at Knox. He’s gone still. Completely still. Which, with him, usually means he’s thinking very hard about whether he’s about to hate what comes out of my mouth.
He says nothing. Just watches me.
The girl looks between us again, and I can almost see her putting it together, that whatever answer she’s about to get, Knox doesn’t like it.
I smile. “You really want to know?” I ask her.
She lifts her chin, trying for brave. “I asked.”
Knox finally speaks, voice flat. “Havoc.”
Just my name. A warning.
I glance at him, amused. “What?”
“You’re not helping.”
“Depends what you think the goal is.”
His stare hardens.
The girl’s voice cuts in before he can answer. “Can someone stop talking in riddles?”
I look back at her. “People tell the truth in all kinds of ways. When they’re comfortable. When they’re scared. When they’re tired. When they think they’re smarter than the person asking.”
Her face loses some color.
I keep going anyway.
“And sometimes,” I say, “you don’t even need them to know they’re telling you something.”
Knox swears under his breath.
I grin without looking at him. “See? He knows what I mean.”
The girl folds her arms tighter. Defensive again, but trying not to show it. “You’re trying to scare me.”
“Maybe.”
