18. WINLOSE

18

WIN OR LOSE

YARA

O n Sunday night, he finally took me up on that offer and called. I was surprised he had waited so long. I was sitting by the fireplace sipping the hot chocolate drowned in rum, Irene’s favorite combination during winter, when the call came.

He surely made me wait for him for a long fucking time. After that day at the café, after I realized he wanted me just as much as I wanted him, I expected him to jump when I asked him to, but his self-restraint was so fucking good.

Never before had a man made me wait for what I desired. They always soaked up even the slightest bit of my attention, my time, and oh, I’d smother them with it before I killed them. Not Ryden, though.

This one was different—a challenge. This would be a thrilling hunt. The exhilaration of it kept me hooked and alert.

“Who is it?” Irene mouthed as she closed her book with a thud. She arrived yesterday and would be staying with me for two days before she’d go back to her dorm. When Irene was here, my house always felt brighter; my life felt easier, just as it was with Katelyn. “Is it him?”

I pressed a finger against my lips with a nod.

“Hello, Yara. Is it a good time to call?” he asked. It was a kick to hear his voice. So intimately close, yet so far away.

“You tell me,” I said, smiling.

He laughed. “About Victor Bane and—”

“And my absurd autopsy report. Yes?” I asked as I took another sip of my hot chocolate. “Why are you so interested in Victor Bane, Mr. Sinclair?” I asked and almost yelped when Irene jumped up from the couch, looking enthusiastic.

“Sinclair?” Irene mouthed, her eyes eager. I threw a pillow at her when she made an absurd face. She caught it midair and pretended to make out with it, looking like an idiot.

“I told you to call me Ryden,” he breathed out. “I want to find out the truth,” he said, but there was a tightness in his voice that made me narrow my eyes.

“You like the truth, huh? Here’s one for you. Victor Bane was an evil man. He deserved what he got.”

He didn’t answer.

“Ok. Tell me this. How are you so sure that what I already gave you is not the truth?” I asked, swatting at Irene, who was still kissing the pillow. She reminded me so much of Katelyn, and my heart hurt when I looked at her.

We both lost so much that day four years ago.

“I just… Can we meet tomorrow? The same time, if you can?” he asked, clearing his throat.

“If you’re free tonight,” I said, biting my lips as Irene made rude gestures with her hand. My body flushed with heat and need.

“I’m free tonight,” he said. “Where do you want to meet?”

I liked that he asked me and hadn’t just assumed that I’d go wherever he asked me to go. Most men did that. Most men just automatically believed you owed them everything, even the world. Fuck most men.

“My house.” It would be better in my territory. He already flustered me once when he dropped by the medical examiner’s office.

There was a moment of pause. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he growled, as if the words themselves offended him.

“Why not?” I countered.

“You know why,” he snapped back, his voice laced with anger. I couldn’t help but wonder why he was hesitant now when he hadn’t been in the café.

“I don’t know. I’m not going to lure you into my secret lair and… do things you don’t want me to do, Mr. Sinclair. I prefer my home because it’s easy for me to be comfortable here.”

Irene mouthed something, rolling her eyes.

“You’re someone who’d be comfortable anywhere.”

“Yes, but I still prefer my home. I also think it’s best suited for what we’re going to talk about.”

“Victor is…”

“This time we’ll talk about The Strangler.” My body tensed, waiting for him to respond. Silence stretched uncomfortably as Irene stilled next to me, eyes wide, face bloodless.

He cleared his throat. “No.”

I knew he would say no, but I had no intention of letting him slither his way out. I wanted The Strangler—I wanted to see him go still under my hands.

“Yes. You give me something I want, and I’ll give you something in return. That’s how business transactions work, Mr. Sinclair.”

“You can read the pieces I’ve written about him for the magazine.” His voice had gone low, tight. The charm was now completely gone, to be replaced by who he really was. The predator was here now, and he was angry.

“I’ve already read every article in the Detroit Daily Explorer and Art of Murder, but I don’t want a fluff piece. I want your investigation, your report, and your theories. I want the information you didn’t share with the world.”

“I can’t. It wasn’t available to the world for a reason.”

“I have lived with death for so long. I can take it. In return, I’ll give you more about Victor Bane. I’d even let you call my report absurd,” I said with a frown.

He was thinking. I could almost hear the cogs turning in his head. I counted the seconds.

“You drive a hard bargain, Yara West. Send me your location. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you.”

When I looked up, Irene was sitting still, her hands clasped together, her eyes filled with anger. “The Strangler?” Her fingers trembled. I quickly walked to where she was sitting and sat beside her, grabbing her trembling hands in mine.

“I promised you and Kat.”

“I’m scared of this feeling inside me, but I want to see him die. I want to see him scream in pain.”

“No. You don’t have to. I’ll kill him for you. This is my path. You—you’re good like your sister.”

Irene scoffed and shrugged. Her eyes, the brightest of green I had ever seen, filled with pain as she walked to the kitchen.

“I miss her,” Irene said.

“I do, too. So much.”

“How long has it been? Four years? It feels like four centuries, Yara. Some nights, I still dream of her… like that. Pale, lifeless. That thin red line around her throat. I-I dream that he had come for me, and he was…” She shuddered. I pulled her into a hug, and she stopped trembling.

“I could have been… good too, you know. With Kat, I was. I was the best version of myself. The animal in me went away. Or at least, she had the power to soothe it, quiet it…” I bit my lips, my fingers digging into my palms.

“And then he took her. He fucking took her from us.” Long lines of tears traced Irene’s cheek as she met my gaze with watery eyes. “How could he… how could he take her from us? She was… she was my everything.” Irene rubbed her eyes, shaking her head.

“I’d kill him if it’s the last thing I do.”