Club 22 (Hades #3) - Tate James Page 0,13

he held it up and shook my head.

"White," I told him, wrinkling my nose. "I don't think I can drink red wine again for a while." Not after having the smell of rich, earthy cabernet sauvignon mixed with Cass's fresh blood imprinted permanently in my memory.

Lucas returned with a chilled bottle of pinot grigio and poured me a glass while Zed and Cass just watched him with curious gazes.

"You two have something to say?" I asked, bringing the glass to my lips and taking a sip. "Thank you, Lucas."

"Anytime," he replied with a grin. "So, I sort of figure the whole fake death has something to do with freeing you from your gang?" The question was directed to Cass, but his gaze flicked back to me like I was magnetic.

Cass grunted again, putting his beer down. "Reapers are old school."

"No such thing as retirement." Zed gave a small nod of understanding.

I took another sip of my wine and explained those statements better for Lucas's benefit. "Reapers don't let members just quit. Once you're in, you're in for life. There have only ever been a couple of exceptions and never for a gang leader."

Zed blew out a long breath, his hand still warm on my knee. "I suppose orchestrating another massacre like we did for Arch would have been a crapload more work than this."

"No shit," Cass agreed.

"But... why did Chase think you were dealing his drugs?" Lucas pressed, his brow creased in confusion. "Why was he so confident you'd betrayed Hayden?"

Cass met my eyes across the table, his gaze steady as he replied. "Because I did."

Lucas's eyes widened, and Zed jerked like he'd been slapped. I rolled my eyes and stabbed at a piece of meat on my plate.

"Calm your tits," I drawled. "He did not betray me. Grumpy Cat is getting dramatic in his afterlife."

Cass huffed a short laugh, and Zed glowered. "Explain."

"Chase had been working on flipping the Wraiths for a hell of a lot longer than we realized. His original agreement was with Ferryman, and Skate just inherited the bullshit. Instead of wiping out the Wraiths entirely, Cass thought it might be useful to simply... let them continue and watch what they did." I paused to eat some of my dinner because I was hungry and it was delicious.

"So you knew Chase was using the Reapers to distribute angel dust?" Lucas asked, a frown of disbelief creasing his brow. "But... why would you ever be okay with that? Your history with drugs and Chase and—"

"Because you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs," Zed answered for me. "But what I want to know is why the fuck I didn't know about it."

"We," Lucas corrected, and Zed shot him a withering glare.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Zed's hand was still on my leg, but the tension in his grip told me how pissed off he was, despite his relatively calm voice. The truth was that I’d had no good reason to keep it from him. I just... had. Cass had already committed to the plan prior to informing me, and while I’d been mad as hell at the time, I agreed with his reasoning. But Zed would only have seen it as a betrayal.

Fuck. Nothing I could say in response to that was going to make things better. It was why I'd been avoiding the whole fucking thing all week since shooting Cass and making Zed and Lucas think I'd really gone and killed him.

One silver lining to that scenario, though, was the three of them seemed to be rocking a stronger bromance than ever. It was just me that two thirds of them were pissed at and rightly so.

"Um," I mumbled, then took another bite of my dinner. "These potatoes are really good."

Zed's grip on my leg tightened, and Lucas shot me a frustrated—yet amused—glare.

Right as I started to sweat my weak-ass reasoning, Zed's phone rang loudly on the kitchen counter. I arched a brow and tilted my head in the direction of his phone.

"You should probably get that," I suggested. "Could be important."

He glowered. "It's not."

I shrugged. "You don't know. Maybe it's the most important call of your whole life."

Zed just continued glaring, but his grip on my leg softened somewhat. I still hadn't slapped his hand away, and I couldn't explain why.

Lucas pushed back from the table and headed over to grab Zed's phone. "It's from... uh, 3982? How is that a complete number?"

Zed jerked upright, startled, and held his hand

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