"Vincent?" Even Damien frowned. The Blake heir had never been on his suspect list. The worst he had considered were Sophia or Sabrina—both women with plenty of reasons to loathe Evelyn.
Zevian's eyes narrowed, his thoughts mirroring Damien's. Without a word, he flicked the dart, its point driving deep into Monu's palm.
"Ahhh! I'm telling the truth!" Monu screamed, the sharp pain shooting through his hand as another dart pierced his flesh. When Zevian paused, eyes cold and unyielding, Monu pleaded, "Why would I lie when I'm this close to death?"
"Fool," Damien muttered with a disdainful snicker. "If you knew the consequences, why did you even take the job?" His question cut through the air, and Monu knew any false answer wouldn't save him.
"I have stage 3 lung cancer," Monu confessed, a twisted smile creeping back onto his face. "I was dying anyway, so I thought, why not go out leaving a mark?"
