Chapter 130: Rodeo
Lorali Pov
Oracle knows what he did to me. He knows about the venom, he knows about the vine-like veins, and he knows about the agonizing physical price I paid to survive his rejection. He is spiraling in his own self-loathing. A sudden surge of gratitude toward Torin washes over me. Kazair didn’t even have to tell me, I know Torin sent that lawyer, but in doing so, he inadvertently handed me Oracle’s absolute breaking point.
"He probably is feeling guilty," I say smoothly into the phone, my voice dropping into a calm, dark rhythm. "He is probably dying inside from the guilt right now."
"Most likely," Kazair agrees.
"Thank you for telling me this information, Kazair," I say, genuinely pleased for the first time all morning. I am about to lower the phone to end the call when Kazair speaks up again, his voice sharpening with a warning.
"Oh, and yeah, one more thing," Kasair adds quickly. "Under no circumstances can you miss Arabella’s wedding next year. I am giving you a serious fair warning. She will be mad. Really, really, really, really mad if you do not show up. Everybody who is anybody is showing up."
I roll my eyes again, though in my head, I know he is entirely right. Even I know that if I skip Arabella’s wedding, the social fallout will be nuclear. Besides, I have to be a good friend to my inner circle. Vanya is getting married soon too, and she is holding a series of traditional pre-wedding ceremonies. Since I am practically her only friend in the city besides Susie—who Vanya is currently not getting along with, though I think their rocky relationship is slowly improving—I have to be present for every single event.
"Relax, Kazair," I say into the phone, my mood completely lifted. "Tell her I will be at the wedding. Goodbye." I hang up the phone before he can reply, sliding the screen back into my pocket.
I take a deep breath of the cold air, feeling an electric sense of triumph settling in my veins. I have won. This is the ultimate winning move.
Now that I know Oracle is consumed by overwhelming guilt, the prospect of having him released from jail in a couple of weeks does not annoy me anymore. The sudden shoulder pain I felt earlier is just proof that my body will need to be physically near him very soon to stabilize the bond. But now, I will not be his victim.
I will hold him on a short, tight leash like a disciplined dog. I will keep him close, forcing him to suffer every single second in my presence. Watching him slowly die inside from remorse every time he looks at me will be infinitely more enjoyable than simply putting a bullet through his head.
I am so glad I abandoned my original plan to poison the entire Spade pack. This long, psychological torture is going to be so much sweeter.
The heavy city bus finally screeches to a halt at the curb, its doors folding open with a sharp hiss of air. I step onto the high bus stairs, pay my fare, and take a seat near the window, watching the city buildings blur past as the bus carries me back toward the financial district.
It does not take long for the bus to complete its route, dropping me off two blocks from the luxurious high-rise tower. I walk briskly through the grand glass doors of the penthouse building, crossing the polished marble lobby directly toward the private elevator bank. I press the call button and wait. A few seconds later, a soft chime echoes through the lobby, and the heavy metal elevator doors slide open.
I come face-to-face with Astrid standing inside the cab.
My eyes widen slightly taking in her ensemble. She is wearing an outrageously bold, form-fitting tiger-print outfit, complete with high-waisted, long flared pants that sweep wildly over her platform boots with every move she makes. It is the very first time I have ever seen Astrid wear pants that actually reach all the way down to her shoes.
"Oh my gosh, Lorali!" Astrid shrieks the second she spots me.
Before I can even step into the cab, she lunges forward and wraps her arms tightly around my shoulders, pulling me into a sudden, overwhelming hug. Surprising even myself, instead of pulling away or stiffening up, I actually wrap my arms around her back and hug her right back.
We pull away after a long moment, and I look her up and down with an amused smile. "Why on earth do you look so ridiculously good?" I ask, gesturing toward her outfit. "Where are you even going dressed like a cowboy?"
Astrid toss her head back, flipping her long hair over her shoulder with complete flair. "To a Rodeo party, obvious candidate!" She grabs my wrists, her eyes sparkling with chaotic energy. "You have to come with me right now!" I hesitate, taking a half-step back out of the elevator frame. "Astrid, I don’t know... Remember how the last party we went to ended? I literally burned down an entire estate."
Astrid dismisses my concern with a dramatic wave of her manicured hand. "Oh, please! That was totally different! You only did that because you drank way too much back then! You are totally sober and fabulous now!" I still look at her with deep reluctance, shaking my head.
Astrid groans dramatically, using her best persuasion tactics. "Come on, Lorali! I am telling you, there is going to be a massive crowd of ridiculously handsome, shirtless men wearing nothing but leather cowboy hats and pants! Why would you stay here anyway? Do you actually have exciting plans with the horrid Spade pack?"
"No," I reply instantly, the mere thought of staying in the building making my skin crawl. "I definitely do not."
"Then let’s go party!" Astrid cheers out loud, jumping up and down in her platform boots. I laugh out loud, stepping fully into the elevator beside her as the doors slide shut.
In my head, I know that staying in the penthouse tonight means being trapped in my room, suffocated by the thick, musky scent of Walter in heat. It means hearing the faint, disgusting echoes of moans filtering through the heavy walls as he indulges in mindless, feverish intercourse or, as Cleo used to bluntly put it, getting completely fucked.
"Lead the way, Astrid," I say with a grin. "Let’s go."