Claudia carried me! She fucking carried me on her back for over two miles.
I fall back into my chair with a thump as memories of last night steamroll into me. I didn’t kill Bryce. Claudia did. She hit him with a shovel, her smile brightening before her second hit. Then she dug the bullet out of my back and stitched me up before protesting about my proposal for us to sleep naked to keep warm.
She kicked and screamed for several minutes when my stiffened shaft pressed against her ass. When I told her to stay still or I’ll fuck her to death, she took my warning literally.
It was for the best because I wasn’t joking.
The more I read Megan’s police record, the faster my heart gallops. How did I not see this earlier?Claudia’s not psychotic. She isn’t even fucked in the head. She’s a female version of me.
She is inhumane.
Determined.
Un-fucking-scrupulous.
She wasn’t just my ticket out of Meadow Fields. She is the bullet, and I am the gun.
Together—wewillbe unstoppable.
Don’t misunderstand, though. Claudia is still a woman, which means she’ll always be below me, but she doesn’t need me as a reward. She needshim.
I lower my eyes to the monitor displaying pictures of Megan’s childhood bedroom. Every inch of the pale white walls is covered with photos of one man, proving Claudia isn’t obsessed with Nicholas Holt. She wants to own him.
I’m going to give him to her, and in the process of doing that, I’ll distract Marcus from my true endeavor. It’s a win-win for all involved. Claudia gets her man. I get revenge...and Marcus gets what’s coming to him.
Slowly, very,veryslowly, I type a string of text into the Google search bar. It’s the exact set of words every FBI agent from here to Ravenshoe will be searching for. But instead of directing them at Marcus as I have in the past, I direct them to Jenni—Nick Holt’s wife.
By dangling a carrot to their right, they’ll fail to notice me sneaking up on the left.
What did I tell you?
I’m fucking brilliant.
nine
CLAUDIA… OR IS IT MEGAN?
When a door’s creak sounds through my ears, I stop raking my fingers through my hair. My spine snaps straight as a hiss rolls up my chest in warning to my intruder. I really hope my guest isn’t one of the many rodents I’ve heard scuttling in the bushes the past six hours.
After being forced to sleep with Dexter, I never expected to wake up alone. I was so taken aback I searched the cabin top to bottom. There wasn’t much floor space to explore, but my examination was thorough enough to gobble up an hour of my time.
Not a shred of evidence was found to corroborate my claims I escaped Meadow Fields with Dexter. Even the blood-soaked shirt I left on the floor last night was gone. The vacant cabin left me with nothing but confusion and a mismatched set of lingerie.
I also have my pill bottle, but with the water from the bathroom tap as sludgy as my heart, I skipped my third dose in a row.
Perhaps that’s the reason I don’t feel guilty for sleeping with Dexter? I can’t be expected to apologize for something I was forced to do.
But in all honesty, even if I weren’t coerced, I still don’t believe Nick deserves an apology. He slept in Jenni’sbed multiple times during our relationship, yet I still found it in my heart to forgive him, so why can’t he do the same thing for me?
Additionally, I like what Dexter and I did last night. He didn’t hurt me. His big, protective body curled around mine made me feel safe and protected like he’d never let anything happen to me.
It’s been an incredibly long time since I’ve felt safe. It was around the age of six or seven. With every year in a mental hospital the equivalent of five in the real world, it’s also been an extremely long time since I’ve slept like a baby. I doubt I slept like one even when I was one.
Gratitude for a restful night’s sleep flies out the window when I discover the cause of the creak. Dexter is entering the cabin. His sneer is as muddy as his sludge-covered boots. I don’t know why he’s glowering at me. I’m not as presentable as I was yesterday, but for what I lack in glam, his cabin certainly makes up for.
Despite my moodiness, I’ve spent the past five hours cleaning. On the outside, the cabin is still rundown and dated, but its insides are sparkling like the shiners my dad inflicted on my cheeks monthly. It’s not as pretty as the country estate where I grew up, but it is a hell of a lot better than it was.
I wouldn’t say I’m anal about cleanliness. It just saves my sanity. It was a tedious task to get this cabin presentable, but it was a great distraction from my depraved thoughts. Not all my deliberations centered around my dad and Nick. Many included Dexter as well.
