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This book contains mature themes, explicit language, and scenes of a sexual nature intended for adult audiences only. It is rated R and is not suitable for readers under the age of 18.
Trigger Warning:
This book also includes depictions o...
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Beyonce Knowles Unknown
"Hello Beyonce"
"Sonya?" I breathe out, my voice barely more than a whisper, but the shock makes my words tremble.
My whole body goes cold, like the air's been sucked out of the room. I blink hard, hoping she'll disappear, hoping this is some kind of trick, but she's right there-standing in front of me.
It doesn't make any sense. She's dead?
She leans back, her eyes flicking over me as if she's soaking in my disbelief. Then she lowers herself into the old wooden chair across from me, crossing her legs casually like we're just two old friends catching up. That twisted smile never leaves her lips.
"Oh, don't look so shocked," she taunts, her voice sweet and mocking, as if this is some game she's been playing all along.
"I thought you were dead,"
"Maybe I was, maybe I lied... but that doesn't matter," she says, waving a hand dismissively, like her disappearance and the chaos she left behind are just minor details.
Without breaking eye contact, she slips a hand into the pocket of her leather jacket, pulling out a crumpled pack of cigarettes and a scratched-up lighter.
She taps the pack against her palm a few times before sliding out a cigarette, slipping it between her lips. Then she glances at me, holding out the pack with a raised brow.
"Want one?" she asks.
I shake my head, still reeling, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she's right here, alive and smug.
"No," I mutter, my voice tight with barely controlled anger.
She chuckles, that same low, taunting laugh that used to make my blood boil. She puts the pack away and flicks open the lighter with a metallic click, the tiny flame casting shadows on her face. Leaning in, she lights the cigarette, the end glowing red as she takes a slow drag.
Smoke curls from her lips, drifting lazily into the air, and she blows it out with a satisfied sigh, her eyes never leaving mine.
"So, how's life been treating you, detective?" she asks, her tone dripping with false concern. Her smirk widens, her voice turning mocking as she adds, "I bet you've got a lot of questions, huh?"
"Damn right I do," I snap, glaring at her, hating the way she leans back, looking so damn pleased with herself. "You disappeared without a trace. They told me you were dead. What the hell is this, some kind of sick joke?"
"I don't play games, sweetheart," she says.
I glare at her, the anger rising. "Why did you have them take me away from my family, beat me, treat me like an animal? What did I ever do to you, Sonya? I was trying to help you."
