“Yeah? Can’t wait for the moment half of that text turn out to be false and you’re the one who ends up with their ass on the street. Your boss has an awful temper and she likes to blame people for all sorts of stuff. You’re not her friend, Lyra, you’re not safe just because you filled a page with pure bullshit and the closer you get to her, the more wood you will put on your own fire.” The more she spoke, the more his patience started to run through fingers like delicate sand. Not to say he wasn’t known to share his thoughts and opinions with people, but it was rare for him to spit them onto the face of others. Lyra could be related to whomever she wanted, have a glass with whomever she wanted, write about whomever she wanted but it was all just part of a big, ugly illusion created by the ones on the top. “I slept with her six months ago, how’s that new? I’ve done journalism, I know what ‘news’ means. She’s free to do whatever she wants and so am I – you’re just fishing because someone is desperate and that’s all. Katherine?” Harper snorted, pulling a hand through his hair to collect his thoughts. “Of course, you see what I’m talking about here? She’s ready to stab anyone in the back but she’s just digging her own grave. She’s stuck and she’s dragging the most fragile of strings to save her bony ass from falling. Have you thought about what might happen if Rhiannon comes back? If she isn’t dead like you so dearly want her to be? Or what if you put me in jail and let the actual serial killer run free? Do you think they’ll stop just because I’m out of the picture? How about you do your fucking job and dig up the real stuff. I will be laughing, yes, but not today.”
“I’m a journalist, Harper. Do you really think I give a shit about 100% accuracy? There’s no such thing in this field. Besides, who’s to say that it wasn’t true?” Why people directed their digs towards Katherine was beyond her. Not only did she fully comprehend why most people’s hatred for the woman ran so deep, but she didn’t really care to know either. Katherine was powerful, and Lyra was too in some ways as a result of their association. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered. “I’m not looking for safety. I’m looking for a career, which she can give me.” He was fighting an uphill battle, and one that Lyra found more amusing than anything else. Standing by what she had done to him was easy, and spitting back defenses was even easier. “I’d say it’s pretty interesting news now that she’s disappeared to god knows where. And given the responses I’ve been getting, the majority of Ashbourne seems to agree with me.” Whether he liked it or not, that was a matter of fact rather than opinion. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had thought well of her writing. “You really do have an awful lot to say about Katherine. You should go tell it to someone who cares, because I really don’t care for trash-talking unless it involves my brother.” Lyra, fully intending to end the conversation there, was put at a halt as he began to question her further. Reluctantly, she turned around to him, but not without huffing first. “Rhiannon’s a big girl, I’m sure she could handle a little bit of press. Especially since she made her bed. Now, anything else you need to get off your chest? Because I have matters to attend to, and none of them involve arguing with a complete loser.”
