33. Thirty-Three

thirty-three

Unknown

Ilit up a cigarette later that night and puffed on it twice, cracking my neck as I leaned against the trunk of my car and stared down at my phone in my free hand. My nostrils flared, and it was all I could do not to smash the phone to smithereens when I accessed the live feed and found Charlotte naked, riding Detective Rhodes on her couch while Hutch's hands were wrapped around her gorgeous head, forcing her to eat his cock.

The sight disgusted me, making my blood boil to the point I had to force myself to look away and talk myself out of sniping both of their asses through Charlotte's living room window. My plan in framing Karl had worked and I could not—no—I would not fuck this up and risk getting caught. I worked way too fucking hard to lose everything now.

Somehow, some-fucking way, Charlotte Greene would be mine.

And that was a fucking promise I intended to keep, no matter who I had to kill to help me succeed.

Putting my phone away, I spun around to the trunk and opened it, smirking down at the dead body currently folded like a pretzel in my trunk.

"Come now, Blaire," I muttered, grinning bigger as I took another puff off my cigarette. "Let's give them something else to fret about, shall we?"

To be continued in Fatal Attraction.