77

77
I was in a state of shock. I couldn't believe that I thought Brett was a good man. I couldn't believe how bad I felt when I broke up with him.

Did I expect this fucking coming?!

Did I expect Brett to have involvement in a cartel, while he worked in the fucking Secret Service with me?!

I felt the bile reach my throat.

I had kissed a man who destroyed people's lives.

I'd had a relationship with a man for years, who ordered hits on women, rapes on women, murders on little boys and women.

I couldn't believe my fucking ears.

I couldn't fucking believe it.

And the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.

Every time Brett would sneakily go off to places, every time Brett said he was on a job...

He'd got Philip on his side, so he must have had this shit going on the whole time. For a very long fucking time at that, too.

He was probably only in the Service to destroy the evidence. The evidence connecting him to the murders.

And I couldn't fucking believe it.

And that was when I vomited all over the car, unable to contain it in me anymore.

I was fucking disgusted.

Beyond disgusted.

I was fucking traumatised.



We arrived at Brett’s apartment, and bile was still swimming in my throat. I tried my best to regain my composure and strength, but it was proving to be more and more difficult. I could barely breathe.

I called the police, so that they would be on standby outside the apartment block, ready to come in when I needed them.

I needed to speak to Brett. I needed some fucking answers.

I let Donte wait outside for me, because this was something that I needed to do on my own.

“The door's open,” I murmured to myself, as I made my way inside of his apartment.

I searched the surroundings, trying my best to pin-point where he was.

“Brett?” I called out, rubbing my chin in thought.

There was no response. I proceeded to make my way into the living room.

And just when I thought things couldn't get more fucking disgusting…

I walked in on him kissing Hazel.

The very woman I'd caught him with before I went on the mission.

The very woman he denied cheating on me with.

“Hello, Brett,” I snarled, clenching my teeth.

“Maya?!” Brett jolted backwards before he turned around to face me, unable to believe his eyes. “What are you doing here?!”

“I came here to speak to you,” I sneered, rolling my eyes.

“Of course!” Brett said hurriedly. He turned back to Hazel. “Get the fuck outta here, Hazel.”

Hazel balled her hands into fists, rattling them angrily.

“You bastard,” she hissed. “Even after all this time, you still fucking love her!”

“Didn't you hear me?!” Brett barked. “Get the fuck out!”

Hazel rolled her eyes angrily.

“Whatever,” she snapped. “I wouldn't stay here if you paid me.”

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, her hair bouncing as she walked. I folded my arms angrily, unable to hide the anger and rage written all over my face.

“Maya,” Brett said breathlessly. “I was just -” He broke off his sentence, shaking his head with frustration. “She doesn't mean anything to me!”

“You don't have to explain yourself to me, Brett,” I sneered sarcastically. “We're not together anymore. Remember?”

Brett jolted backwards, hurt by my words. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again, instead, letting a sigh escape from his lips.

“I've missed you, Maya,” he admitted timidly. “I've missed you so much.”

“Cut me the bullshit, Brett,” I snarled. “Tell me this.”

“What?!” Brett denied, a confused expression on his face.

“When were you gonna tell me that it was YOU behind the murders?!” I accused, seething.

“I don't know what you're talking about!” Brett shot back in his own defence.

“Spare me the bullshit!” I roared. “Philip's dead, Brett. Nobody can save you now. Tell me the motherfucking truth!”

I watched the colour drain out of Brett’s face. He looked like somebody had just walked over his grave, when I gave him the news of Philip’s death.

He was guilty as hell.