Another message popped up on the laptop as soon as Munay stopped.
"Still here?"
Shayna's eyes faltered over the cascade of messages, her tiny body frozen in shock.
There was no freaking way.
Shayna leaned closer to the laptop, reading the entire chat once more.
Her eyes snapped into focus, as she looked at the laptop with blazing eyes. Even if she trusted Munay with her life, she needed to confirm this herself.
"Yeah, there was a minor glitch, nothing to worry about," Shayna texted back immediately.
She could not let him figure out that she knew, just yet. If Munay was right, she wasn't going to let him off that easily.
"Any other details you know about this person?" Lynx messaged, and Shayna scowled heavily at the text.
Yeah, I do. He's a shameless fucking liar.
"No, that's all."
"Alright then." Shayna could almost feel the wheels in his head turning from beyond the screen.
"So, this is not the usual standard procedure," he started typing again, "but you will have to meet him once to confirm everything after I've found this person."
"Physically," he added.
Shayna furrowed her brows, somewhat amused as a smug grin spread across her face while she leaned back in her chair, folding her arms.
This fucking smart-ass really thought that'd work on me?
At least try to be a little discreet.
And how's he gonna find the 'man'? Come out from behind a door yelling, 'Surprise?'
Lynx had started typing frantically again, his mesaages appearingand dissapeared.
Which is so totally normal for one of the best assassins in the underworld.
I'm so much more professional at my job than he is.
"I actually can't come," Shayna typed, just relishing the thought of Lynx panicking on the other side. "My bodyguards keep an eye on me all the time, and it might not be safe."
"We don't have to meet for long," Lynx seemed to have found his words again. "Just for around 30 minutes or so."
"It'd be really difficult. My father and my older brother are extremely protective of me, and there are cameras everywhere in the house."
Shayna could not help but smile. She knew that the entire underworld already knew that Vixen was an infamous prostitute with a wrecked family.
But he couldn't say that without exposing himself.
This is the best fucking day of my entire life.
"Can't you say you're going on a date or something?" he asked quickly.
Icould, but my 'boyfriend' would make my date disappear from the face of the earth.
"I couldn't," Shayna replied, having way too much fun. "In my family, women aren't actually allowed to date until they find a husband."
The typing indicator appeared, disappeared, and then returned half a minute later.
I definitely got under his skin.
She rested her chin on her palm, eyes glued to the blinking typing indicator.
He ran out of options so soon? I thought he'd be good at this.
"There's one way, though," Shayna messaged, an evil thought striking her mind.
"What?"
"I'm actually going with my brother to the Dominion movie theatre on Friday for the Inside Out movie from 3:00 to 4:35. The interval is at 4 o'clock. If you could meet me in the ladies' waiting room by then, that would be great."
"Yes," Lynx typed, almost nonchalantly, but Shayna could see him practically jumping on the other side, singing, "Glossy Chrome Silver."
"But will you be able to find him by then?" Shayna asked, trying hard not to smile.
"Definitely."
Yeah, you fucker.
"For the waiting room, though, try to dress up like a woman. Otherwise, somebody might get alarmed."
"Hmmm."
"Also, try to buy one of those fake boobs on Amazon. Otherwise, you might not look realistic enough."
"There are plenty of women without much in the way of boobs out there."
"Do you want to do this right or not?"
"Fine. I'll do it," he replied, exasperated.
Now, for the final test.
"Okay then, send me your PayPal."
"Huh, why?" he asked, confused.
"Don't you want your money?" Shayna replied, now almost certain that Munay was right.
"Okay," he replied, sending the PayPal link.
Shayna immediately checked. It was an offshore ID, which he probably did not use that much.
Just like the account she had stolen from.
It didn't take her long to realize that it was the same account she had emptied three nights ago. All the encryption, the defense, and the anti-hacking devices were the same.
Her smile slowly faded as she stared at the screen, amusement giving way to genuine disbelief for a fleeting moment.
"Send me four thousand," a small message popped up.
As if. You fucking piece of shit.
She , however, shook off those thoughts, feeling slightly guilty. Compared to the amount she had stolen from him, the four thousand dollars was like a grain of sand against a freaking watermelon.
She wired the money, taking the necessary precautions to use a completely untraceable account.
Besides, I can't just ignore the opportunity of having fucking Lynx in a mini dress with boob pads in the ladies' waiting room go that easily.
The asshole's gonna be adjusting his boob pads while I blackout drunk in a bar on Friday night.
...
I eyed the sad excuse of a man, my vision almost blurring from disgust. The marks on his hands rubbed against the tight ropes I had bound him with, while the red slashes on his back glistened with every whip.
"Speak," I commanded, but the fucker just looked down, spitting out a dangerous amount of blood.
My fury shot up several octaves.
Assassination attempts on me were not something I was unfamiliar with. But usually, I would make sure to remove the entire threat at its roots.
Which I could not do until this cunt opened up.
The bastard looked up at me as I finally stopped whipping him, his expression raw—almost like a hint of confidence.
Which I wanted to break away so fucking badly.
I slowly placed the whip on the black rag in the corner of the basement. I could see his eyes following me as I moved to the dangling little cabinet by the wall.
I knew he would not be stupid enough to think that it was over, but he was not gonna see this coming.
I pulled the box out, almost with admiration, my fingers wrapped tightly around the metal hinges.
The love of my life...
My torture box.
I opened it slightly to take a peek at the slightly dusty and bloody tools inside it—taser, screwdriver, blade, scalpel, dagger, and all my favourite things.
Was there something wrong with me?
Yes.
Was I gonna change it?
Nowhere in hell.
Killing and torturing were the only things that kept my composure intact and prevented the darkness around me from engulfing me completely.
And they helped manage my anger issues just as much.
Or as she called it...
Sadism.
I remembered the day she had seen her first torture incident. She looked like a fucking , soft kitten.
The phone vibrated against my ass as I pulled it out of my back pocket, my eyes narrowing at the caller ID.
"This can't be good."