Page 86 of Property of Fang
“The Wings of Faith.”
“A bunch of fucking con-artists and puppeteers.”
Says a lot—not.The book in my hand has a navy blue cloth cover, worn at the corners. The inside pages promise a story about a man left questioning his own sanity when the ghosts of war follow him back into his everyday life.Perfect.I tuck it under my arm.
Darko steps into the room. “You called, m’Lady?”
Chaos levels him with a ‘don’t test me’ glare. “Jenna needs the phone back.”
“Sure.” Darko glares at me as though I purposefully got him in the shit with his boss. “Didn’t want to just take her word for it.”
“Thought Fang would have said something.”
“Nope.” Darko shifts his attention to me. “I’ll have it ready for you shortly.”
“Thanks.”
He ducks out of the room, and I make to follow, book clutched to my side.
“Wait.”
I hesitate, unsure if Chaos expects me to move back into the room or remain at the door.
He answers my unspoken question. “Sit.”
I do as instructed, resuming yesterday’s position in the half-moon chair.
“Her name is Anna.”
“Whose name is Anna?” I frown.
“The Kid.”
My stomach tightens in a defensive ball. “How do you know that?” I whisper.
“Molly told Fang.” He studies me intently, gauging my reaction.
Of course.“Why do you think The Kid won’t tell us that?”
“Lots of reasons why she wouldn’t want to trust adults.” Chaos leans back in his chair, arms wide and hands knitted behind his head. “She said something else, too.”
I cock an eyebrow.
“Said her sister’s dead and her family home burned down.”
I draw on the genuine surprise at the second part of what he said, hoping it disguises that I already knew the first. “Damn.”
“Figured there might be a chance you know a thing or two about them.”
“Excuse me?” My pulse hammers so hard I swear all he has to do is look at my wrists to see the flesh jump. “What makes you think that?”
“Did some digging.” He leans forward to close the lid of his laptop gently. “Not many news stories that match the details. In fact,” he says, dragging out the torment like a lizard chewing on a moth. “There are only two. And one of them happened not far from your hometown.”
Guess he’s done more than a little digging if he knows my hometown.“With all due respect,” I say slowly, fighting to keep the tremor out of my words. “A lot can happen in the next townover without me necessarily hearing about it. I’m sure you can relate.” My arm grows clammy where it rests against the book.
“Doesn’t ring any bells then?” He narrows his stupidly intriguing mismatched eyes. “House fire? Two girls? Anna and an older sister?”
My throat works overtime to swallow despite my dry mouth. “Nope. Sorry.”
