Page 120 of Bloodlust

He knew exactly what he was doing.

And it worked.

Fucking bastard.

"He's in Indonesia," I mutter to Hayden, hatred stewing in my stomach.

"What?"

"It's a non-extradition country." I blink, emotionless. "I'll do it but..." I suck in a breath of resolve. "We need to get him back to the States. I want to see his face when he learns just how much of an angel I truly am."

"It's funny if you really think about it, huh?" I muse, glaring at my father. "You did everything you could to make me into your little clone, a replica of thegreatTony Bianco, and for all intents and purposes, you did." I cock my head. "So essentially, you're the cause of your own demise."

"You should get some rest," Hayden says. "It's late."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "We need to go over the details still."

Hayden quirks up a brow. "Do you ever sleep?"

"No," I say, standing up and heading to the coffee machine set up in the corner of the room. "I can sleep when I'm dead." I flash Hayden a knowing smirk. "Really dead."

He blinks. "Dead?"

"Yes," I say, pouring two cups of coffee. "That's the only way."

"Only way to what?" Hayden asks.

"Bring my father back to New York," I explain, walking back over to the couch. "He won't come back for anything else, especially if he knows the FBI is watching us. Here." I hand him a mug. "I'm not even sure my death would be enough." I twist my lips, thinking out loud, "We need to up the ante a bit. I think—" I glance at Hayden, "—I think we need help with this one."

"Help?" Hayden frowns. "From who?"

"Hazel," I reply, nodding. "I think she's the key."

"My demise?" Dad asks, narrowing his eyes at me suspiciously. "What are you going on about?"

"Thanks for meeting me here," I say, sitting down in front of Hazel.

"What do you want from me, Camilla?" Hazel asks, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "Why am I here?"

"I have a...proposition for you," I say, scanning her meek features. "A way for you to escape—" I nod to her engagement ring. "That."

She moves her hand off the table, placing it on her lap. "I don't, umm... I don't want to?—"

"The Dragons are going to prison, Hazel," I state, throwing a Hail Mary. All cards on the table. I don't have time for games. "In a matter of weeks, maybe even days, your fiancé and his entire organization will be draped in orange and selling smokes for toilet paper."

Hazel blinks. "What?"

"I'm working with the FBI." I swallow, praying that my intuition is correct. "The Angels, The Dragons, and Almuluk, they're all going down, Hazel." I pause, meeting her bruised eyes. "You can either go down with them or...you can help me. Help the FBI. And...help yourself."

She lowersher voice, leaning across the table. "You're working with the FBI? But you're..."

"I need your help," I state in a whisper. "Help me, Hazel."

She's silent for three minutes and thirty-six seconds. I'm counting. I'm holding my breath and counting. Counting on her to say yes. Counting on the fact that somewhere, deep inside me, I can still tell when a person is good, when a person is smart, and when a person is trustworthy.

I've been wrong a lot lately.

This time I can't be.