My nose wrinkles at the sour, rotting smell reeking through the entire house. Fourteen years ago, this asshole was living the perfect small-town lie. White-picket fence. Lawn cut to perfection. Even so, something felt off.
I didn't meet Grace back then but I met Reggie once or twice, and he was always smiling and spotless. Starched shirts in whites and grays. Not a wrinkle, not a speck of dust. Adora, Liz, even the fucking house was bleached of any color. Like that bitch wanted to erase any trace of life from it.
I roll my shoulders again, trying to shake off the claws of the past. What’s done is done.
The door to his room is already cracked open. I push it wider with two fingers and step inside, feeling the filth crawling through my fucking gloves. The stench is worse in here, overflowing with stale sweat and vomit.
And there he is, sprawled on the bed.
Shit.His eyes are open. Staring at the ceiling like he’s seeing straight into hell.
I don’t falter. I move fast, grip tight around his mouth, ready to silence him. He doesn’t even flinch, doesn’t blink. He’s blissed out of his fucking mind.Great.I could set him on fire and he’d probably just smile through the flames.
My job just got easier, though.
Two hours later, he’s strapped to a chair in the middle of his shit-stained room. Hands bound. Mouth gagged. He’s been drooling on himself for the last hour, head bobbing back and forth. I’m lounging in another chair in front of him, legs spread, one hand tapping the armrest in time with the ticking of the clock on the wall.
Finally, he stirs. Groans. Blinks. I wait, patient. I’ve done this dance before. I know the steps.
The first thing he’s gonna want is water.
I grab the bottle from the floor, twist the cap off, and lean forward. His eyes finally focus, and when they land on me, they go wide with fear. He’s awake enough. Good.
“Hey, Reggie.” My voice is soft. Almost gentle. “I’m gonna take off your gag, have a little chat. Got some water for you.”
I shake the bottle in front of his face, and his gaze locks on it greedily.
“And if you’re a good boy and cooperate, I’ve got a little gift for you.”
I raise the syringe I brought with me, let it catch the light. His eyes go wide, pupils blown. He looks at it like it’s candy.
Shit, man, you just crawled out of that hole. What the fuck.
He nods eagerly, raw need oozing from every pore. I bring the gag down, hold the bottle to his lips. He drinks like he’s been crawling through the desert. Doesn’t stop until it’s empty. When he’s done, I set the bottle aside and lean back.
“How’ve you been, Reggie?” I ask, voice smooth. Casual.
He blinks rapidly, still riding the edge of withdrawal, his eyes darting around the room.
“Good, good,” he stammers, voice thin and brittle. “What—what can I help you with, Ghost?” He swallows hard, his whole body trembling.
I lean further back in my chair, stretching out like I have all the time in the world. “I just need some intel, Reggie. But first....” I tilt my head, eyes never leaving his. “Tell me, how come your wife finally left you?”
He flinches, surprise flaring in his eyes before he smothers it.
“Oh, she left years ago. Found herself some rich guy.” He tries for spite, but it falls flat. He’s not convincing at all.
“The same rich guy she’s been fucking for two decades now?” I drop the question like a hand grenade.
His eyes go wide, panic rising. He shakes his head with jerky movements.
“What? No, no. Just some guy. No one important.”
“So…notSombra?” I arch an eyebrow, my tone flat, even.
He freezes. Jaw locked tight. Not even a whisper of breath leaves him.Indecision flickers in his gaze. Lies cling desperately to his tongue. I roll my eyes and sigh, so damn tired of this dance.
I lean forward, slowly, letting him feel the weight of my shadow creeping over him.
