Eye for an Eye

Chapter 19: The Truth.

This couldn't be happening. Here I was, trying to take them down on my own—or at least get some answers—and now I had seven of them standing around me like a damn army. I should have known Noah would rat me out and lead them straight to me.

Xavier stood to my right, exuding calm confidence, while Noah was on my left, his presence just as commanding. But the others, they looked pissed. They were all glaring at me, eyes hard and judgmental.

I rolled my eyes, refusing to meet their stares. Instead, I focused on Michael, who was grinning like he had won some twisted game.

"Well, how lovely," Michael sneered, looking between Xavier and me. "I see you've got the mafia backing you now, Hope. West certainly didn't expect this."

His words hit a nerve, but I didn't let it show.

"He'll be pissed that Miles is still alive, though," Michael added, his laughter filling the room. The other men joined in, their voices like nails on a chalkboard.

I could feel Miles tense beside me, his lips curling into a snarl. "Don't," he warned, his voice low and threatening.

My head snapped toward Miles, confusion clouding my thoughts. He wasn't looking at me, though—his eyes were locked on Michael, who was watching us with far too much enjoyment. I couldn't help but wonder: what exactly did Michael mean by that? And why was Miles trying to stop him from speaking?

In the corner, Rose stood like a statue, her gaze flickering between the group. She twirled her orange-blonde hair around her fingers, painting a picture of self-obsession, her nails coated in obnoxious pink.

Her outfit left little to the imagination—a tight white dress that barely covered her ass and strained around her chest as if she were suffocating in it. It was the same old Rose, desperate for attention, looking like she was stuck in some high school fantasy. Frankly, I couldn't understand how anyone could still stand her face, considering the circus makeup she plastered on it every day.

The urge to rip that plastic smile off her was overwhelming, but I focused my attention back to Michael.

He seemed to sense my boiling rage and took full advantage of it, his voice dripping with malice. "Come on, Miles. You can't protect your sister forever. She'll eventually find out the truth, and maybe that'll finally give her the push she needs to kill West. I mean, killing Lily clearly didn't have any effect on her."

The words stung. They were meant to.

My mouth went dry, and my heartbeat thudded loudly in my chest as a wave of unease washed over me. I stepped forward, ignoring the weight of everyone's eyes on me. Their stares burned, but I didn't let it stop me.

Michael's men still had their guns aimed at me, but I knew—none of them had their fingers on the triggers. They were all bark and no bite. Idiots.

I reached Miles, standing in front of him, my gaze locked on his face, searching for something—anything—that would tell me what was going on. But he refused to meet my eyes. Instead, his gaze darted around, anywhere but me. His avoidance only fueled my frustration.

I couldn't take it anymore. Without thinking, I grabbed both sides of his face, forcing him to look at me. His jaw was tight, his body tense and his eyes squeezed shut as if he was trying to shut me out entirely. But I wasn't having it.

"Tell her or I will, Miles," Michael taunted, his voice growing louder. "I'm dying for a good fight."

I could feel the anger bubbling up inside me, and I ignored it, focusing all my attention on the man I'd trusted more than anyone. "What are you not telling me, Miles?" I asked, my voice low but sharp.