Serayah Cressors.
Thor’s room. I shut the door with no time to think. I need to find his safe. It’s the only thing that can prove Thor’s lies—he has two hundred citizens the True Blood’s hideouts, everything. It must be all in there. It has to be.
I whip my head left to right, eyes on the shelves, drawers. Then I spot a side room that looks like some office. I sprint in. And what the hell? Empty whiskey bottles are everywhere, tossed carelessly across the floor, some still dripping. Disgusting. On the massive desk sits a huge map of the state, marked with pins, scribbles, and circles. It shows every weak point, every vulnerable area in the state.
My fingers hover over it and the truth burns beneath my skin.
Thor. You snake. You filthy, lying, backstabbing, two-faced, traitorous thing
