If the Society gets word of a deranged girl killing these four men—a girl who’s killed before—they would chalk it up to the partial truth. Wrong place, wrong time. An unhinged girl who swears she can sense evil sniffed these men out and decided to murder them in cold blood. She’s the perfect scapegoat, actually. But the thought of using her—it doesn’t sit right with me. She’s a lonely, fucked up girl who helped me carry out these murders. Doesn’t matter that she would’ve done it anyways had I not been there. Without her, I wouldn’t have gotten the information I did tonight. And I can’t let that go unrewarded. So, I resign myself to protect Sibby. I'll clean up the evidence, dispose of the bodies and do everything I can to infiltrate Savior’s before they relocate. “Will they demolish?” “Yes,” Mark answers quickly. I let out a slow breath and nod. By saving Sibby, I’m giving up the first lead I’ve truly had. “T-If you let me go, I can get you in,” Mark barters desperately. “I'll help you and you can do whatever you want. Just as long as you let me live.” “The other three are already dead,” I say. “They’re going to relocate anyways.” “Not if you pin everything on this girl. That’s what you planned, right? To let her take the fall for it?” Sibby is still too blind with bloodlust to hear what Mark is saying, but I would’ve been honest about it anyway. Sibby and I never promised each other anything, and I’m pretty sure the girl still plans on killing me. But she won’t succeed because despite what she thinks, it’s only her against me. And I’ve fought far too many bad guys to allow a little girl to take me out. Even if she is a little badass. I refocus on Mark. “Do you know where they’d relocate?” I ask. Mark hesitates, sensing that he will no longer hold any leverage if he confesses. I dig the knife deeper into his dick to drive home my point. Pll know if he’s lying. “No,” he admits, his lip trembling. “They wouldn’t tell us until afterwards.” I nod my head, lift my hand, and plunge the blade deep into his pelvis. His screams do little to abate the pit of dread and anger churning in my stomach.