Page 56 of The Brat: Prequel

I shoot him an unimpressed look. His hands pop up again. In abject surrender.

He’ll never stop trying to turn me against her, but it won’t work.

I know why she contacts me.

She’s testing me.

Her father let her down from the moment she was born.

He proved she wasn’t his priority.

Her sisters found men who prioritize them.

She’s pushing me to see if I’ll let her down.

Contacting me to keep the links between us active. Relying on me to be her strength when she’s weak.

I might understand her motives, but even I’m perplexed by this sudden obsession with frat brothers.

Because I can’t cut off his hands, I grab my favorite knife and stab the bastard’s face through to the blotter on my desk. I skewer him, uncaring that it further wrecks the leather that’s withstood years of similar abuse. I’ll be moving into a brownstone next week and my new desk’s already picked out.

A glass top—at Misha’s insistence.

“Do you know what you need?” He tosses the next three words at me like a hand grenade and starts running. “To get laid⁠—”

“Fuck off, Misha!” I roar before tipping back my desk chair as I make chase…

TWENTY-SEVEN

THE SUMMONS…

“For me?” I ask in surprise when Brennan drops an envelope onto the kitchen counter in front of me.

Only, it’s like no other envelope I’ve ever seen.

It’s expensive. The paper so thick and textured, it’s beyond a luxury cardstock.

“Yup. Collected it from the reception desk on my way up here.” He tsks then gently coaxes a ladybug off my shoulder. “Not seen one of these all spring, but you come home for the summer and they’re everywhere.”

“I haven’t noticed any.” I pick up the letter, study the wax seal of a crowned skull with sheaths of oak leaves surrounding it, and my heart goes wallop in my chest.

“Who’s leaving you fancy letters like that?”

I roll my eyes at Eoghan. “Stop loitering in doorways. It’s creepy.” When he enters the kitchen and leans on the counter, I frown at him. “What are you doing here? Inessa’s not⁠—”

“I do go places where she isn’t.”

“Since when?” I jeer.

“Since sometimes.”

Cackling after opening the kitchen window, Brennan urges the insect onto the windowsill. “We have business to discuss.”

“Oooooooh,” I tease. “Big, scary, he-man stuff. Are my young, naive ears too innocent to bear the conversation?”

“Less naive, more… Inessa won’t forgive me if you’re complicit in our crimes.”

“We’re family, aren’t we?” I nudge his elbow. “So, who’s the Whistler killing today?”