Gia's POV
The café was closed. The sun was too shy to shine. The sky felt heavy, like it knew what was about to happen inside.
Jeremy had cleared out the staff. No one needed to hear the screams that were about to erupt between the walls of this perfect little café that once smelled of sex and sin.
Now it reeked of gasoline and hate.
I stepped inside the back room. She was tied to a chair. Head bowed. Her hair matted. Clothes torn. Bruised, but not broken. Her knees looked busted.
Not yet.
Jennifer.
The woman who tried to kill me. My half-sister. My family's favorite.
She lifted her head slowly, a smile crawling onto her bloodied lips.
"Oh look, the spare finally arrived."
I didn't answer. I took a slow breath, then walked over to the table beside her. I laid the tools down one by one. Neatly. Precisely.
Pliers.
A scalpel.
Rusty nails.
A hammer.
A syringe.
She laughed. "What? No hello? No dramatic monologue about justice?"
