Mara
“What happens to me after this?” Jones asked, his voice hoarse but steady.
I met his eyes, unflinching. “Once you’ve finished with the sketch artist, my husband will decide. Don’t worry—he’s far kinder than I am. And you’ve been… cooperative.”
He gave a faint, bitter chuckle. He knew what was waiting for him. Death, more than likely. But he didn’t seem afraid.
“At least I’ll be at peace,” he muttered. “And maybe Winston’s Corp will stop harassing me.”
That caught my attention.
“Troubling you?” I echoed.
He nodded. “Chase never paid me the full amount. Said our deal was void since Lucian didn’t die. I still owe. And those people don’t forget.”
“Where did you last meet him?” I asked.
“The strip bar in the Northwood Casino building. He liked that place. Always met me there.”
I
