“The stuff in his office?”
Drake stroked my cheek with his fingers.
“Yes. We’re taking it with us to look through at home. There’s too much there for us to deal with right now and from what Francis and I have seen… well, let’s just say it’s rather useful.”
I wasn’t sure what Mason could have that would be useful, but I was going to take Drake’s word for it.
“Strip out of that first. We’ll need to make sure we destroy all the evidence.”
Francis moved towards the front door whilst Prescott went over to the kitchen and started looking in the cupboards. I imagined it was for Mason’s cleaning supplies.
I let out a sigh and started removing my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. When I was bare, I wiped my feet down to make sure I wasn’t trailing blood everywhere, then moved towards the hallway. Prescott had piled a bunch of things on the kitchen counter for Drake and West. He followed me to the bathroom and flipped on the shower for me.
“Are you okay, little lamb?” he asked, stroking my arm to get my attention.
I had to think about it for a moment. I’d killed another person. Last time, I’d fallen apart over it. Somehow, this time, it was different. There were no feelings of regret or remorse. I merely felt a sense of peace washing over me.
Wherever you are now, Mum, I hope you’re happy. I avenged your death. And even if that puts a black mark on my soul, I don’t care. It was worth it.
I looked up at Prescott and gave him a smile.
“I’m good… I’m glad he’s dead. And I don’t feel bad about it.”
Then I stepped into the shower and let it wash away the evidence of the slaughter I’d left in my wake.
Nine
Drake
What a fucking shitshow. The past fucking week had been one, but what we’d just had to clean up was even more so. That wasn’t even the end of it. Scarlett had set in motion a tidal wave of fuckery none of us could run from. She’d cast the first stone by killing Mason. And now the consequences would come galloping in like a fucking storm with hellfire in its wake.
Yet… I wasn’t angry at her for it. In fact, I was proud of the way she’d handled herself. She hadn’t hesitated this time, according to West. She’d asked for his knife to kill Mason with. When Francis and I had heard screaming, we’d run into the living area to find her stabbing the guy to death with calm fury written all over her face. Scarlett knew exactly what she was doing. She wanted him to die. Needed it. How could I ever begrudge her revenge on the man who’d helped steal her from her life? Who’d murdered her mother to cover up her kidnapping. Who had done nothing but lust after her since she was a teenager. There was no redeeming a man like Mason Jones.
We’d spent a couple of hours dealing with Mason’s place, making sure we scrubbed it thoroughly of our presence and loading his papers into the Jeep. Now all I wanted to do was get home and sleep in my own fucking bed. However, we had a stupidly long journey home to contend with, not to mention there was a body in the back of the car.
West had called Penn when we were finishing up. He’d given us details for someone he knew who could help us dispose of Mason’s body. I didn’t question how or why he knew someone in Scotland. The guy was resourceful. He was London’s best known and most sought after Fixer for a reason. No wonder he basically lived in Zayn Villetti’s pocket, according to West.
It wasn’t the first time I’d been thankful for his friendship with West. Penn might be batshit crazy, but he was useful as fuck. He’d helped us out on more than one occasion. We still owed him a favour, and no doubt he would come to collect when he was ready.
Francis was taking the first few hours behind the wheel. Prescott had fallen asleep with his face smashed against the window in the front seat a few minutes after we’d set off. He’d barely got any sleep since we’d left home, so it was unsurprising he was the first one to crash out. West was dozing in the back with me and Scarlett, who was sat in the middle. She was curled into my side with her head resting on my shoulder. I’d covered the both of us with one of the blankets we’d bought with us so she didn’t get cold.
I needed her close to me. Needed her body against mine. I was the last person to see her, and it killed me to know she’d been taken right after the moment we’d shared on the rooftop. After she’d given me exactly what I needed. To punish her, fuck her and hold her afterwards. She was my heaven, wrapped up in a beautiful human being who loved fiercely and gave everything to those she cared about. And having her gone for a week was a fucking wake up call.