Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 477(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 318(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry you had to deal with that. But they’re just assholes, acting like assholes,” she decides with her usual confidence. “Trust me, Deborah is so full of shit, I’m surprised her eyes aren’t brown.”
I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me. It feels good, releasing the pent-up energy like this. “I just don’t know why he thinks Bradley has anything to do with me.”
“Oh, you know how it is. I guess he doesn’t know who to blame or even if there’s anybody to blame,” she reasons as we cross the lot that has now emptied, for the most part, heading for her car. It’s a little chilly, making me wrap my arms around myself before I shiver. “So, what do you do? You lash out. And if you’re already an asshole like the two of them, you act like a real dick about it.”
She’s right, though it doesn’t help. They’re not just going to magically give this up, and I wouldn’t be surprised if I start getting even more messages than I did before. The threats, the warnings, they’ll all probably ramp up after what just went down.
And I can’t tell Colt about it. I can’t. All it would do is give him an excuse to vent what I know is building in him—his frustration when nobody but he believes Nix is still alive. He would take it out on the two of them, and it would get extremely ugly.
Not that I care about them. They could smash up their car on the way from the theater, and I wouldn’t shed a tear. I’m more worried about him. I wouldn’t want him to get in trouble. No, I can’t tell him about what happened tonight or any of it. Because I love him, and I know it would only hurt him in the end.
“Do you feel all right?” Piper sounds concerned as she starts the car, frowning at me.
“I feel fine,” I lie, because the truth is, even though I have so many good things in my life, I don’t think I’ve ever felt so alone.
6
NIX
Those fucking assholes.
And I thought it was hard staying away from Leni—watching her from afar, being part of her life without showing myself? I thought it took all I had to keep myself hidden from her? I didn’t have the first fucking clue.
Because now here I am, standing in the vestibule behind glass doors, watching her walk away with Piper while wondering if anyone would connect her to Deborah’s and Dennis’s sudden disappearance tonight.
I can hardly believe the thoughts running through my head, but they exist in bright, vivid color. They make my heart beat faster, like I’m anticipating something exciting, something I’ve been looking forward to. The way other people might look forward to a holiday or a birthday or an anniversary. I’m standing here imagining ending two lives in the most brutal way possible, and I’m excited about it.
But these aren’t ordinary people. These are people who go out of their way to make others miserable. People like Leni, who’s never hurt them. It was one thing for me and Colt. We had our reasons. Deborah has no fucking reason.
And Dennis? I might feel sorry for him if he wasn’t acting like such a complete bastard. If my brother disappeared without a trace, I wouldn’t rest until I found answers. There wouldn’t be a place in the world I wouldn’t look for him. But I wouldn’t harass an innocent person in that search, and that’s what Leni is: innocent. What the hell can he possibly think she has to do with this? Why would anybody blame her for anything?
Right now, I’m not interested in answers. It’s time for a little payback. And since too many people saw them with Leni, that takes a lot of options off the table. But I can’t let those fuckers get away untouched.
I don’t know where they went. Maybe to the bathroom. Maybe they’re celebrating being complete and total assholes. Part of me wonders what would happen if I showed my face. Would they think they were looking at a ghost? No, too risky, even if there’s a part of me that craves the shock I know would pass over their faces. Instead, I head outside, where the parking lot is almost empty, and a chilly breeze makes me shiver. I recognize Deborah’s car—not that there are many to choose from—and pull out the switchblade I’ve started carrying as a habit, since my neighborhood isn’t exactly safe. When I’m sure nobody’s watching, I shove the blade into one of her tires.
The satisfaction is unreal, the act of slicing into something like this. I can’t help but do it to a second tire before moving on to the other two, chuckling to myself when I think of how surprised she’ll be when she comes out to find that little gift. One day, she’s going to regret the things she says.