Killian
How many drinks had I had? Three? Four? It didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was burying Giuseppe.
I was deep down the rabbit hole of imagining just how I’d kill him when someone burst into my office, the door slamming into the bookshelves behind it and sending everything upon it rattling and dancing precariously. I turned lazily in my chair to face them, perhaps a bit slowed by the effects of the drink. But when my eyes locked onto Sera’s, my mind cleared.
“How the hell do you keep getting out of your room?” Either she was Houdini, or someone in this house was f*****g with me.
“Your crew is made up of inbred heathens incapable of doing anything correctly, that’s how,” she hissed, closing the door behind her. “I need something from you.”
I arched an eyebrow. Cute that
