Bruce Walter was going to pay and burn in hell.
“I want to talk to her.” I had risen, and slipped into my flats.
Michael’s hand hovers around me, “Her? Who do-“
“I want to talk to her. Belinda fucking Evan.” I grit out with emphasis and turn towards the detectives. “I need to talk to her.”
They shake their heads, “Afraid that’s not possible kid.”
I glared, “Why’s that?”
“You know you can’t. She wouldn’t co-operate if you came. She’s barely speaking as of now. We can’t aggravate her. Let us handle it.”
“Aggravate her? She did this! They’ve aggravated me! Let me speak to her!” My hand was in Michael’s, and I knew my nails were digging into his skin.
He wraps an arm around me, pulling me back. “C, calm down, we can’t intervene. Let them do their job.”
“That’s my father Michael. And our friend Scott. She planned this with that fucking man. He wants us all, so he took them to show us he still has power, so we’ll surrender ourselves.” It didn’t add up, taking us now would be pointless, the police knew it all. But this was no time for sense.
I take a shuddering breath in as he holds me, “They don’t deserve this Michael.”
“I know, I know. But we can’t jeopardise their investigation.”
“I just want to speak to her.”
I wanted her to know I don’t regret shooting her anymore.
I wanted to tell her I am going to come for her. For him. I am going to burn them to the ground if something happened to my father. Before that, I will remind her who her ruination is.
Revenge will be bittersweet.