I slap my hand over my face. None of this is going to plan.
“That… No, neither,” I stutter.
“Are you lying?”
“Legion,” I groan. “I just think it's best that Cage and I no longer work together. That's all. Nothing personal.”
It's so personal. I am such a liar—and not even a good one.
“Where's Eli? Isn't it time for him to come back?” I ask.
One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi…
“Eli will do the delivery tonight. Your comfort is my priority.”
My shoulders slump in relief. “Thank you, Legion.”
“Have a good night, Molly.”
The phone clicks off, and I instantly feel sick to my stomach. Legion will call Cage and tell him he's off the job. Maybe it'll be casual, and he'll tell Cage that Eli is simply ready to come back. Or maybe he'll tell the truth, and Cage will come here demanding answers.
Which is something I'm not prepared for.
What the fuck am I supposed to say? That spending time with his mom and laying in his sister's bed listening to her favorite song scared the absolute shit out of me?
It only proves how much of a runner I am. How, even after all these years, I live like there's a target on my back. And, because of that, I refuse to let anyone get close.
I know that no one’s coming after me anymore. Not really. According to Legion, Francesca and Rocco are dead, and Z destroyed the Society—which turned out to be some shadow government that was playing a massive hand in human trafficking operations.
Even if I were discovered by the public, I could easily lie and say I didn't make it out until years after my father and Layla's disappearance. No one could prove otherwise. But I've found comfort in my anonymity, and somehow, I've convinced myself that Cage is a threat to that.
I should've never agreed to dinner with his mom.
But it doesn't matter now.
I'm comfortable with my life. I've found my own retribution for what happened to me, and I don't need a man's love or his cock to fix me. I've already picked up every little, fucking, chipped piece of me and meticulously put them back together. I'm not broken anymore; I just don't work the same. But there's nothing wrong with being different.
I'm better off alone.
Francesca and her hound dogs made sure of that.
“Miss my face, huh? I always knew you couldn’t resist me.”
Eli’s always been a nuisance in a sort of endearing way. But he’s a loyal employee of Legion, and despite his terrible pickup lines, his jokes are harmless, and he’s never made me uncomfortable.
I've been working with him since returning to Montana, and I have a soft spot for him.
“How could I? You’re the full package,” I answer dryly, though a small grin curls one corner of my lips.
He drops the dead body on my metal table, then splays out his arms as if he’s presenting himself as a prize.
He’s a cute guy—still in his mid-twenties with pretty brown eyes, a clean-shaven face, and a killer smile, though he’s self-conscious of the front tooth that’s slightly shifted over the other. His light brown hair is cut short and styled away from his face with probably five different products. He’s one of those guys that takes his hair very seriously.
With how often he carries bodies around, he’s lanky but fit, and he ensures to wear clothing that shows off just how many muscles he possesses.
Regardless, he’s not my type. It seems only one man fits in that category, and it’s always been Cage.
“I won’t make you beg anymore. Come to papa.”
I roll my eyes and grab my hair clippers, even though the old man has barely any left.
“Don’t make me throw up on the corpse. I don’t think my pigs would appreciate it.”
He scoffs, and his upper lip curls in distaste. “Somehow, I think they’d consider it extra seasoning.”
“Okay, that’s disgusting,” I mumble, faking a gag. I’m used to the filth that comes along with owning pigs. They’re dirty animals, regardless of how hard I work to keep this place clean. Not just from blood but their grime, too.
And despite what I feed them for dinner, I still don’t like to consider all the different things they’ll eat. It’s nearly limitless, and that in itself is rather unsettling.
“If I die, please don't feed me to them. Especially Oregano. That one is tooeager when she eats,” he pleas dramatically.
I snort, finishing shaving the dead man's hair and moving on to extracting his teeth. “Deal, as long as you don't let me become pig food, either.”