Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
I squinted. My crossbow.
“Where are you running off to? The fun just started.”
“What the fuck are you doing?!” I screamed. “Let us go.”
“Now why would I do that... Angel?”
Cold dread climbed my spine. “What did you say?”
“Need me to spell it out,” she sang. “I promised I was arranging a meeting for us and here we are. I’d have thought you’d be happy, seeing as you put so much effort into finding me.”
“You?” I scurried back as she closed the distance. “But— But how? Why?”
“How and why you already know. But you forgot.” Zoey rolled her eyes. “How convenient.”
“You’re the Letter Man,” I sliced in.
“Woman. Thank you very much.”
“But you... Blake Jensen...”
My conversation with Craig came roaring back.
“Blake. Is he in this photo? Point him out.”
“Blake’s not—”
“A guy,” I whispered. “He was going to say that Blake isn’t a guy. The face he pointed out!”
I snapped up to her. In my mind, I moved past the person I thought Craig pointed at, to the girl I dismissed outright.
Her hair was brunette. The round nose was pointed, but the resemblance couldn’t be denied.
“You’re Blake Jensen.”
“Correction: I was Blake Jensen.”
“And Dante? How did you...?” I trailed off, my mind struggling under the new information.
“Oh, I’m not Dante. But the new guy is a friend,” she said. “He kindly made a few changes to the show, and added lines to his script when I asked. I have friends, Angel. Everywhere.”
“You’re not Dante, but you are Blake.”
She gestured with my crossbow. “I changed my name to Zoey Mariner the second I hit eighteen. Ugh. You don’t know the hell I went through. My parents thought it’d be cool and revolutionary to give me a guy’s name. Instead, I was bullied relentlessly. They called me a man. Stole my tampons, saying that guys didn’t need them. It was awful.”
“Boo hoo. I don’t give a fuck about your sob story.” I strained in my binds. “You shot Colton. You killed Bella! And the guys. Get them down from there right now.”
Zoey aimed the bow at Legend and fired.
“No!”
He jerked out of the way and the arrow sailed past, missing him so narrowly I heard his jacket tear.
“You’re not in a position to make demands, so don’t do it again. You are, however, lucky that I’m in a sharing mood. Go on,” she sang. “Ask me all about my dastardly plan. Why did you do it? How did you get away with it? I love this part.”
I spat at her feet.
She heaved a sigh. “You always were stubborn.”
“You don’t know me.”
“Au contraire. If you want to get technical, I’d say I’m the only one who knows the real you. Come on. Haven’t you put it together yet?”
“We met during that blurred-out year of my life while I was on the meds. I get it,” I mocked. “But if you think that drugged-up robot is the real me, you don’t understand how blackouts work. Anything I did”—I thought of the body at Black Widow Hill—“or didn’t do. It wasn’t a choice.”
Giving me her back, Zoey shot at the ropes keeping Arsenio out of the water below.
“Hmm!”
“Stop!”
“Here’s how this goes,” she said. “I couldn’t have you driving the Crows out of town too early, because they hadn’t accepted my price yet. You see, you’re not the only one I’ve sent letters to. But I bet you thought you were special. Aww.”
My teeth clenched. I had this person pegged before I knew her.
She’s enjoying this.
“Now that Cavendish is dead and the leash is off, I’m offering my services to the highest bidder,” she explained. “I sent a few letters to Jeremy Ellis telling him that when he eventually failed against the Bedlam Boys, and he was meant to fail, I’d kill them for fifty grand.”
Zoey dropped that like a McDonald’s order.
“He kept up that he could handle this himself. That’s until the light show in the square. He hired me the second he woke up in the hospital. Only ten grand each. A bargain. Though I am missing one,” she muttered. “Should’ve waited, but we’ve waited so long to do this.”
My heart shot in my throat. One sentence penetrated.
“Kill them?” Tears stung as I took in the ropes, and the death she chose for them. “Don’t do this. You said you wouldn’t.”
“Well, when I said that, I didn’t have twenty-five grand in the bank. Keep up.”
Tears ran down my cheeks. Behind my back, I wriggled my wrists, working to get free.
“That said, I didn’t bring you out here to watch them die. If you do, that will be your choice.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that in honor of our past friendship, I’m willing to let you go in their place.” She motioned to the ledge above my head. “Jump and I let the Bedlam Boys go free.”
The guys shouted through their gag.