Page 122 of Fatality

UNKNOWN: “It’ll cost you credits. For my security, of course. And for my services, baby girl.”

I grimace at the pet name.

“Ew.” The word drags out of me as I stare at the screen.

I start typing back, telling him I have enough money to buy him a brand-new identity if I wanted to.

As for the pet names, he can keep them to himself.

A few moments pass before I send him exactly what I need.

Just something big enough to make Evren realize that fucking with me comes with consequences—and that he should leave me the fuck alone.

UNKNOWN: “Problems in paradise, baby girl? That man is a piece of work.”

UNKNOWN: “In less than ten minutes, you’ll receive the first part of the information. After that, you’ll transfer 50,000 credits to the account listed at the top of the file.”

UNKNOWN: “Once the payment is confirmed, I’ll send the rest.”

UNKNOWN: “Then we’ll go our separate ways.”

Fifty thousand credits?

That is given. For me, it’s nothing.

Not that I like flaunting the fact that I’m rich, but honestly, I’d expected a much higher price.

I type back that I agree and wait.

Exactly ten minutes later, a file lands in my inbox.

I open it, skim through the contents, and transfer the credits to the account listed at the top.

Less than a minute later, the second file arrives, I open it immediately.

And there it is. Something interesting.

I knew the fucker had a side business. An illegal one, on top of everything else.

Not that illegal street racing was exactly lawful, but this went deeper than that.

Evren’s gang, Crimson Velocity, operates primarily through racing.

That’s their public face.

But according to the files, they have other sources of income—contraband, illegal substances, and vehicle parts moving through channels that definitely aren’t regulated.

And the next major delivery is scheduled for a little over a month from now.

Perfect, I have time to plan.

I lean back in my chair, a smug smile creeping across my face.

Finally, I have something tangible. Something useful.

This is my revenge.

A hit loud enough to send a message, a message that says, loud and clear.