The question is always there, coiled up like a snake in the back of my mind, waiting to inject its venom into my thoughts. What happens after I win? Without revenge and vengeance—without war—what’s left of me?

“Did it feel like you were winning when there was blood on your hands?”

I close my eyes and take another deep breath.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say again. Because it doesn’t. It’s why I didn’t need Lander to wear a condom. I doubt Lander has anything, but at this point my future health isn’t all that important. If I stop . . . existing . . . after my victory . . . well, that’ll be all right. I’ll have fulfilled my purpose. I’m a soldier—my objective isn’t to preserve my own life. My objective is simply to win. That’s it.

I open my eyes in time to see another cockroach. I raise my foot and stomp on it, crushing it under my heel.

It doesn’t matter who I am underneath it all, not really.

All that matters is that I’m ruthless.

chapter thirteen

When Jessica opens the door, she’s wearing a pale aqua-green sheath dress that hangs stiffly from her shoulders. It’s not tight . . . in fact on someone else it might be frumpy. But Twiggy-thin Jessica wears it well. My mother used to call women like her “human hangers.” Their figures are designed to make clothes look good, but it’s all silk and mirrors. Take their clothes off and there’s nothing there for a man to sink his teeth into. Nothing soft or feminine for him to hold on to. According to my mother, naked stick-skinny women have all the sex appeal of a paper doll.

My mother never mentioned that Nick Foley’s wife was very skinny. She didn’t have to, I knew who she was thinking about.

Jessica isn’t smiling as she stands in the doorway, blocking my entrance. But she doesn’t look angry either. She just looks kinda . . . spacey. “Are you early?”

“Only ten minutes.” I check my watch to confirm. “Is that all right?”

Jessica waves her hand in the air. I can’t tell if she’s making a dismissive gesture or practicing her princess wave.

Then from the back of the penthouse I hear the laughter of children. It’s startling. It’s not that I forgot that Travis and Jessica have kids; it’s just that they’re both such terrible people it’s the kind of thing I didn’t want to remember.

As the echoes of laughter come rolling down the hall, I find myself turning away from the sound.

“Oh, my children weren’t here during your interview, were they?” Jessica’s voice sounds so hollow it has the quality of an echo. “Let’s meet the children.” She turns on her heel and leads me into the penthouse.