Facade of Love (Yvette Scott and Idris Young) novel Chapter 419

Fields of poppies, as far as the eye could see. Once turned into product, they were nothing but cash.

Lucas had just rolled into Lake City and was already throwing cash around as if it were nothing. To him, money was merely a drop in the bucket.

"This isn't even the biggest farm we've got. The top spot goes to Kenneth's place," Rebecca boasted a little. "Word is Kenneth's getting old. He's planning to hand over the reins to Lucas. With his smarts, we're all going to be rolling in dough."

I bit my lip and stayed quiet. To me, all this stuff was bad news, but to them, it was their bread and butter, as precious as a farmer's prize crop.

They had it all: the fields, the factories, and a sales network that stretched nationwide. They ran a slick operation. Even out on the fringes, none of it was against the law.

Thinking I could use their setup to take down Lucas was like believing in fairy tales.

That thought made me sigh, deep and heavy.

I knew Lucas was bad news, but I could not find the silver bullet to take him down. It was enough to make me lose hope.

Feeling down, I remembered all the lives lost, all the reasons to hate Lucas, and here I was, stuck, unable to do a thing or find a way out. Just waiting for the end. The more I thought about it, the deeper I sank into despair.

Despite wanting to kill Lucas, I realized I could not even get close to him, much less take my shot.

Feeling totally helpless, I let out another heavy sigh.

Rebecca, trailing behind me, gave me a worried look and asked, "Ms. Scott, you okay?"

He glanced at the distant runner, signaled his squad to keep up the chase, and tossed over his shoulder, "Nothing major." With that, he was off.

Rebecca let out a surprised, "He's actually running?" Clearly, she was as shocked as I was that the escapee had any fight left in him. As I watched the chase unfold, it hit me – that was the same old man I had seen half-dead in the dark room the day Yara nearly did me in.

Now he was sprinting for his life? I caught Inch closing in, gun in hand, about to squeeze the trigger. My brain froze, and on instinct, I yelled, "Don't shoot!" The shot rang out anyway. I whipped around, heart in my throat, to see the old man still stumbling forward, miraculously unscathed.

Inch, unfazed, simply holstered his weapon and coolly said, "Hi, Ms. Scott." I bit back any response, my face set in a hard line, and turned to leave.

I had barely taken a few steps when an ear-splitting scream cut through the silence, "Ah!!!" I spun around, my heart racing. The old man who had been running was nowhere to be seen, however. All that was left was the echo of his screams in the distance.

Rebecca's voice, tinged with regret, floated to me. "To keep strangers out, the boss had the ground rigged with jagged blades and mousetraps. Lucky for him, he didn't reach the perimeter, or he would have hit the live wires and been fried to a crisp."