The ride back to the penthouse felt like being driven toward an execution. Outside, the city lights blurred into long, neon streaks against the rain-fogged windows of the Mercedes, a kaleidoscope of a world I was no longer a part of. Inside the car, the silence was a living thing, thick and suffocating.
I sat as far away from Jason as the leather seat would allow, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I had to get rid of the burner. If we reached the penthouse and he searched my bag—which he surely would—Vance and I were both dead.
"Why did Liam feel the need to tell me I'm not taking care of you?"
Jason’s voice was quiet, but it cut through the hum of the engine like a razor. He didn't look at me; he was staring straight ahead at the back of Vance’s head.
I swallowed ha
