A Destiny of Carnage (A Violent Agenda)

VIOLA

Fucking Dante.

Why he would nearly kill himself to prove a point, I’ve no idea. But I move quickly, getting him to the medical bay as soon as he’s out for the count.

With Dante out of commission, detained by Quinn, I shower, washing the dried blood off my body and cleaning it out of my hair, and change and then go snooping around in his things. He might trust me, but I don’t trust him. I’m no closer to my goal, and just sitting around has done nothing, so I take it upon myself to move things forward. That’s always been my specialty—stab first, deal with the consequences later.

I’m done with waiting.

His room is neat and bordering on completely empty. There’s his laptop which is locked, a few piles of clothes neatly folded in the wardrobe, and his backpack. I open the last one up to find three files inside, jobs from the agency and one containing his birth certificate and newspaper clippings of his parents’ death. I go for the jobs. It’s been a long time since I did one that I’m curious as to what kind of things they’ve been sending him.

Lorcan’s head on a plate perhaps?

They’re not. I rifle through them anyway, noting his shorthand in the margins where he’s written down some additional information. He’s even highlighted the fee being offered. My eyes widen at that. These jobs are high-end. Trust Dante to get the good ones. I could retire on the amount just one of these jobs would give me.

When I check the dates, it dawns on me that these jobs should have already been completed. That’s what he was doing when I was inside. He was earning fucking more money.

I shove the files back inside Dante’s bag and then head back to my room. I need to figure out how to earn that kind of money myself if I want those IDs Quinn promised me. But I’m pretty untouchable now that Polina has put the word out that I renege on my contracts. The bitch has basically cut me off. I need to get one last job somehow.

Maybe I can pretend to be Dante?

After dinner, I head down to the medical rooms where Dante is. I know he’s fine because Quinn told me he was. In fact, he’s sitting up, bandages all over his chest, hooked up to an IV to replace the lost fluids, reading a goddamn book like he’s on holiday. He’s not. I got Quinn to handcuff him to the bed while he was out of it.

“Cuffs, really?” he says, holding up his wrist.

“I want an explanation,” I say to him.

Dante puts the book down, exhaling. “Is there anything you don’t want? That might be easier.”

“Don’t blame me for nearly bleeding to death. I didn’t stab you in the chest.”

Quinn walks in with freshly squeezed orange juice on a tray. She hands it to him by extending the tray. “Here. One fresh orange juice. That’s the last time I wait on you,” she says in a pissed-off voice.

“Then I appreciate it even more,” he says, taking a huge gulp.

“Those jobs in your room. What are they? When did the agency give them to you.”

He gives me a look. “They’re not important.” He doesn’t even bother to ask why I was in there. He finishes the juice and waves the empty glass to Quinn. She makes an annoyed face and comes over with the tray.

“Because you’ve already done them?”

“Yes, I did both when you were in St Michael’s,” he sighs, putting the glass on the tray Quinn is holding for him just out of reach. Suddenly, he seizes it, jerking her toward him as she yelps with surprise. I’m ready for him when he does. I jab him with a concoction of drugs enough to put a grown man down in seconds. He grimaces, letting go of Quinn. Red blooms on his chest where the clean bandage is. Good to know he’s not fucking superman.

“That is why you shouldn’t be moving,” Quinn says, scuttling back, even more, pissed off than when she came in.

“Why the fuck am I in cuffs?” he huffs, straining against them and the drugs.

“Just tell me if you’ve met Polina yet to collect the money. They were cash-only deals,” I say.

Jaw clenched, he shakes his head.

“Then I’ll collect it.” It’s only polite to offer.

Quinn makes her fucked-off, mother hen face. “You will not.”

Dante frowns, eyes muddy and dark as the drugs start to work. “Out of the question. She still has a hit on you,” he pants, agreeing with her.

“Then send Jude. I’ll go with him but stay out of sight. She’ll never see me,” I say.