Of course he had the perfect backstory, Gianna mused sardonically, the corner of her mouth twitching even as irritation stirred beneath it—but she didn't want his help.
And in addition to that, did they really have to go poking the tail of the people in the elite club?
She didn't see the importance of it, not when she already had all her culprits, their identities, laid bare and firmly in her hands.
She admitted to herself, quietly and without shame, that she was still scared of bloodshed and war in the streets again; she just didn't want it, didn't want to relive anything close to that chaos.
So if it could be avoided—if there was even the slightest chance—it should be avoided.
Herbert was dead. Clement and his family would pay for their sins. Esme would be dealt with accordingly, no matter what Noah thinks.
And as for the people who kidnapped her, they were already dead—except for the fourth fellow who had invaded the company and defaced her walls with graffiti.
