Chapter 222

• Leah's POV
• Brad’s blood smelled like rust and regret. It pooled beneath my boots, seeping into the cracks of the warehouse floorboards as I circled him. The ropes binding him to the chair creaked - not from his struggling anymore, but from the tremors running through his body. Fear had a way of making even meaty men like him brittle.
• "You're wasting my time," I said, dragging the tip of a fish knife along the edge of a frozen cod. The screech split the air like a promise. "Twenty years. Twenty years you let that rot fester. And now you think shaky denials will save you?"