421 The Predator’s Game

(Judy)

The bar hums with quiet sophistication, the kind of place where London’s elite come to sip overpriced whiskey and pretend they’re untouchable. I walk in, a predator among prey, and there he is: Lance. The person I’ve come to see.

He sits hunched over his glass, looking every bit the broken man I expected. The bruises and swelling from his fight with Jayden haven’t faded, and there’s a hollow look in his eyes that makes my lips curl with satisfaction.

He’ll hate Winona now for coming between him and Jayden. Perfect.

“Hello, Lance,” I purr, sliding onto the barstool beside him. He doesn’t even flinch, just glances at me with a weary indifference. Pathetic.

“Judy,” he acknowledges, his voice flat, devoid of the cocky charm he usually wields like a shield. Good. I’ve taken that from him, too. Easier to further poison his mind against this couple.

I order a glass of Merlot, savoring the anticipation of this moment. “You know,” I say, swirling the wine, “I never thought I’d see you q