Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72863 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
I guess in a way, we’re much the same. While my whole life was to protect and serve, to uphold the law, that changed when I joined the Forsaken Society. I’ve killed some very bad people whom I felt deserved it. I don’t regret it at all, and I will do it again in a heartbeat.
Maven’s reason for killing is different. She does it for money, and usually without letting her emotions get the best of her. Prior to the night I caught her at Marcus’s house, I would have said she was a very controlled person. She’s been doing this for years and has never once been caught.
When I started digging deeper into her and realized that she and Carrie are adopted sisters, it all started clicking into place. She wouldn’t have gotten caught if I hadn’t purposely sent her the video to prove or disprove if it was her who’d killed Bailey. I’d had a feeling Carrie was the only person Maven would break for, and I was right. Maven may be many things, and may come off as playful, but deep down, when she cares for someone, she will do whatever it takes to protect them.
I open my door to get out, and she doesn’t wait for me to go and open her door. She’s already out of the car and walking toward the café by the time I slam the door closed. She enters the café and immediately heads to the bathroom, then comes back out, gives the server a quick wave, and takes a seat across from me in the booth.
“So, that was fun.” She smiles, and I can tell she does this to hide her true feelings, which is fine. I’ll play along.
“It was.”
“Now, how long do we have to be married for?”
I bristle at her question. “Divorce isn’t an option.”
“And you said I have to stop killing members?” she asks just as the waitress stops at our table.
“Strawberry milkshake, extra whipped topping,” Maven orders.
“Same,” I tell the waitress, who nods and walks off. “Your sister is due out soon. I expect you to be moved fully into my house by then.”
“How do you—?” She shakes her head. “Fine. But I want my own room.”
“No.”
“I’m not sleeping in your bed. Lord only knows how many women you’ve brought back there.” She scrunches up her nose.
“None,” I reply.
“I still need a spare room. You’ve seen my heel collection.” She smiles.
“I’ll build you a room for your shoes,” I tell her, to which she nods.
“And the sex thing. Let’s stick to once a week. Can’t go catching feelings,” she throws out. The waitress coughs as she places our milkshakes down.
I don’t agree with her once a week suggestion. Fuck, I’m unsure if I’ll be able to keep my hands off her for the rest of the day. So I won’t be making any promises.
“No more members,” I insist.
“Got it. I got it. I can’t kill any more of your stupid society members.” She rolls her eyes. Her blue hair has escaped the clips she had it pinned up in, and as she leans forward to sip her milkshake, some falls around her face.
I’m in so much fucking trouble.
TWENTY-NINE
MAVEN
That night, after we finish our milkshakes and some fries, he drops me off at my apartment and tells me he has to go to work. Which works fine because I need to shower, and I at least want one more night in my bed before I have to go to his place. The following day, I don’t hear from him, and I don’t bother reaching out to find out why. I take my good luck and run with it.
I also don’t bother packing a single thing for the move to his place. If he wants me to move all my stuff, he can do it himself or hire someone else to do it for him.
My phone rings, and when I answer it, Carrie’s voice fills my ear.
“Maven.”
“Oh my gosh,” I sigh into the phone.
“Missed you too,” she says, and I know she’s smiling without having to see her.
“I have something to tell you.” It’s been weighing me down not being able to tell her, but I wasn’t allowed to contact her, and our last phone call just didn’t seem like the right time; actually, I don’t even know when the right time is. But I have to rip the bandage off sooner rather than later.
“I wanted to talk to you.” She pauses. “You got married without me?” Her tone tells me she’s sad I did it without her.
“How…”
“I have access to almost everything, and I get notifications on everything regarding you, to make sure your name doesn’t fall into any systems, so I was surprised to see an alert for a marriage license,” she explains. I should have known she would find out.