King of Sloth (Kings of Sin #4) by Ana Huang

“I saw it,” she said. A tinge of pink colored her cheekbones and the tip of her nose. “I got a call from Rhea this morning. They fired her.”

“Shit.” The jagged rocks of guilt multiplied, weighing down my stomach and feet as I crossed the room. “I’m so fucking sorry, Luna. I shouldn’t have brought them to the center. I wasn’t thinking—”

“Don’t be sorry. You had good intentions, and you did everything you could to minimize our chances of getting caught.” Sloane gave me a wan smile. “It was a perfect day, Xavier. I’ll never be sorry that I got to see Pen, and she was happier than I’d seen her in a long time. That was because of you. It’s not your fault George and Caroline would rather prioritize their pettiness over their daughter’s well-being.” Her grip around her pen tightened at the mention of her father and stepmother. “This is on them. Not you.”

Her reassurance eased only a smidge of guilt. The rest continued to fester like a nest of vipers, their serpentine coils slithering through my gut and squeezing tighter with each what if and shouldn’t have.

Yet another case of me fucking up.

But I could self-flagellate later. I was here to check on Sloane, not wallow in self-pity.

“How’s Pen?” I asked. “Do you know?”

Sloane shook her head. “They kicked Rhea out before she woke up. She didn’t even get to say goodbye. Rhea has taken care of her since she was born, and I can’t imagine…” Her voice hitched. “Anyway, with Rhea gone, I have no intel into what’s happening. They could’ve already shipped her off to a distant cousin in Europe for all I know. I wouldn’t put it past them.”

She maintained a brave front, but I saw past the matter-of-fact replies to the fissures underneath. She was breaking, and it fucking killed me to know I was the cause of it, however indirect.

She may not blame me, but that didn’t stop me from blaming myself.

However, something she said sparked an idea. With Rhea gone, I have no intel into what’s happening. Sloane didn’t have intel, but I knew someone who could get it. For the right price, they could get anything.

I kept the plan to myself for now. I didn’t want to raise her hopes without confirming with my contact first.

I’d started this mess. It was up to me to fix it.

“We’ll figure it out. I promise.” I managed a crooked smile. “Between you and me, we can figure out anything. We’re geniuses.”

Sloane released a half sob, half laugh.

Her eyes were dry, but when I opened my arms, she came around the desk and buried her face in my chest without protest. Her shoulders shook, and I kissed the top of her head, wishing I had the power to take her pain away even if it meant shouldering it myself.

We didn’t speak. She didn’t shed any tears. But I held her all the same.





SLOANE

Some people wallowed after a disaster. Others threw fits of temper.

Me? I planned.

I had a week to swallow my shock, anger, horror, and the thousand other emotions that exploded after Perry’s post. I could dwell on Rhea’s unfair firing or work myself into a state of panic over being cut off entirely from Pen, but that wouldn’t do anyone any good. Instead, I did what I did best: I figured out how to solve a crisis.

It started with taking down Perry.

I’d already planted the seeds for my revenge; it was time to harvest them.

I tapped my pen against my knee and stared at my laptop. It was the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, and I was working from home again. I’d already filled five pages of notes on Operation PW (Operation Perry Wilson).

Perry’s power stemmed from two things: information and the platform to disseminate that information. Over the years, the little weasel had cultivated a network of spies from New York to L.A. who fed him juicy tidbits about the rich, famous, and misbehaving. Some of them were true; many were embellished.

It was impossible to fully cut off his sources because anyone could be a leak. Hotel maids, gardeners, chauffeurs, random passersby on the street…there were no limits to who could send in an anonymous tip.

Since I couldn’t eliminate his sources, I had to eliminate the reason why people wanted to send tips to him specifically. He didn’t pay them, but for anyone who wanted to expose a celebrity, get back at someone they felt had wronged them, or simply gain the satisfaction of seeing their tip used, they turned to the biggest fish in the pond. People knew Perry had the means to bring their tips to a huge audience, which brought me to the second pillar of his power: his platforms, specifically his blog and his social media.

They were concrete. Tangible. Which meant they could be taken down.

I couldn’t do it on my own. I needed an army, and luckily, I knew exactly where to find one.

A new message popped up in my encrypted server. My heart skipped a beat as I read and reread it.

Confirmed.

For the first time since I’d seen Perry’s blog post, I smiled.

I knew Xavier blamed himself for what happened, but it wasn’t his fault. I didn’t resent him for organizing one of the best days I’d had in a while, but the blog post did light my fire when it came to Perry fucking Wilson.

Next to me, The Fish swam leisurely in his aquarium. Most people preferred cuddly pets like cats and dogs, but I liked having a fish. Our roles were clear, and our worlds never crossed. He stayed in his house; I stayed in mine.