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Thinking I had chosen that.
Thinking it meant something.
“You tagged her,” Dagger snarls. “Like fucking property.”
Noir’s eyes flick lazily toward me.
“She was always property in this city. You just hated realizing she wasn’t yours alone.”
Dagger hits him again.
Noir’s mouth splits wider. Blood runs down his chin.
He still laughs.
Still.
Like he wants this.
Like pain is just another part of the performance.
“The tracker was for my father’s men,” Noir says, voice rougher now. “They needed to find her when it mattered. I knew Mina wouldn’t keep her in the apartment. Girl like that?” He glances toward me. “She was always going to run the second someone handed her a door.”
Dagger’s eyes go wild.
“You knew they’d hit the rave.”
“I counted on it.”
The words slice through the room.
Dagger stills.
I stop breathing.
Noir smiles softer now.
More satisfied.
“I needed my father exposed. Needed him drawn out somewhere messy enough that no one could hide what happened. You were never going to move on him while Blair was safe inside your apartment. But put her in danger?” He laughs quietly. “You became exactly what I needed.”
Dagger looks sick.
Noir leans closer.
“You were the weapon. She was the trigger.”
For a second, I swear I feel my heart stop.
The whole story folds in on itself.
The apartment.
The warehouse.
Mikey.
The rave.
