28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Eight

C andy

The drive back to the hotel is tense, my phone burning a hole in my lap like slow-release toxic chemicals. Glancing into the back seat, it's clear Fury's already on the job. His piercing gaze is scanning the passing landscape for any sign of trouble as though our lives depend on it. I guess they do.

"We should call the cops," I suggest, breaking the heavy silence. "Report the threats, show them the messages."

Courage glances at me, his brow furrowed. "I hear you, babe. Let's think this through."

Fury nods, his jaw tight. "Involving the authorities too soon could spook these bastards. Make them do something rash."

I slump against the seat, frustration burning through me like wildfire. "But isn't that the police's job? To protect people from shit like this?"

"In theory, yeah." Courage sighs, navigating the predawn streets as though he's traveled them a hundred times before. "But in practice… Cops tend to get twitchy around Others. Especially ones sticking their noses into human affairs."

Fury grunts in agreement. "And let's not forget, these KEN fuckers have money and influence. They've been covering their tracks for years. Who's to say they don't have some boys in blue in their pocket?"

"So what do we do? Just let them keep terrorizing me, wait for them to make good on their threats?"

"No." Courage growls, his grip tightening on the wheel. "We handle this ourselves. On our terms. One way to stop this once and for all is to draw them out, gather evidence, build an airtight case."

"And then with taped evidence in hand, we nail their asses to the wall," Fury finishes, a vicious glint in his eye.

Back in the hotel room, we huddle around my phone as another message comes through, a chill running down my spine as I read it aloud.

"Time's up, Candy girl. You wanna play hardball? Refuse to tell Broken Starlets to pull the plug? Game on. Jefferson Memorial Park, 11 p.m. tonight. Come alone, or the whole world sees what a filthy little slut you really are."

My heart pounds like a jackhammer and my stomach coils in a tight wad of terror.

Courage snarls, a sound of pure, unadulterated rage. Fury unleashes what seems like a bottomless pit of obscenities.

But beneath the rage, a steely resolve takes root. This is it. Our chance to end this, once and for all.

"We're going to need gear," Courage says, his mind racing. "Cameras, mics, trackers. Fury, can you handle that?"

A lopsided predatory grin emerges on Fury's face. "Between Stealth and me, I've got it covered. You think this duffel is filled with clothes ?" His brow wings up and now that we're face to face, I realize Courage wasn't kidding when he called Fury a silver fox. That male could be on the cover of magazines—provided he wore a hat and kept his lips sealed over those lethal fangs.

I square my shoulders, tipping my chin in defiance. "What's my role in all this?"

Courage takes my face in his hands, his gaze fierce and unwavering. "You, my brave, stubborn female, are going to march into that park and show those bastards they messed with the wrong fucking woman—that is, if you're up to it. It's asking a lot."

My lips quirk, a flicker of my usual fire sparking to life. "Damn right, I am. With you two keeping me safe."

"We're not going to hang you out to dry." His tone is serious, deadly. "Fury and I will be right there with you every step of the way. They just won't know it until it's too late."

A shaky breath escapes me, the knot in my chest loosening just a fraction. "Okay," I whisper. "Let's do this."

"You're so brave, Candy. It's time to face the monsters head-on and send them screaming back to the hell they crawled out of. Never doubt, we'll have your back."

It all sounds great when Courage says it, but I can't help but think that things could go horribly wrong. That's too terrifying to imagine.