He opens his palm to me. “Don’t… just don’t, okay? You think Sam murdered those werewolves?”
I don’t let the rejection deter me. “I don’t know if he did it himself or got someone to do it for him. But he is involved. Why else would he lie?”
He stands up, looking down at me. “I don’t know, Nicholas. Maybe because it’s none of anyone’s fucking business where he was. He is a free man. Oris he?”
“What does that mean?”
“Oh fuck. This can’t be happening. I’m so stupid. It all makesso much sense.”
I tilt my head, genuinely confused. “What?”
“He’s not a free man, like I’m not a free man. Not anymore. Because Detective Nicholas Harper is on the case, he’salwayson the case.”
I stand up, towering over him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
He takes an instinctive step back. “How did I not see it? You didn’t even have to stalk me anymore to keep an eye on me. Not when you can come into my house whenever you please. Hell, I open the door wide for you every time.”
My jaw hangs open. “What the fuck, Elliot? What are you even saying right now?”
He laughs maniacally. “Are you seriously telling me you didn’t checkmyalibi as soon as you heard of the first murder?”
“I didn’t because you were with me,” I burst, immediately regretting it.
Elliot laughs again, the sound more cruel than his harshest barb. “Right. That’s all this ever was to you, an easy way to keep your thumb on the case. Bonus, you get to take care of a broken man. A—”
“What the fuck— Of course not. Do you really think I’m with you so, what? I could stop you from killing?” I take a step forward, reaching out for him.
He backs off again, batting my hands away. “I don’t know, Nicholas. Because it sure as fuck feels like everything you said about letting me run was a big fucking lie. You knew I was going to come running back to you and then you can have your nice little project while you run around saving the world.”
“A project?” I whisper.
“Fuck, and now I have brought Sam into all of this mess.”
“Mess? Is that all this is?”
Elliot smiles, his eyes looking watery. “You know what the worst part about all of this is? I knew. I always knew I was just another Mickey for you, a sad little puppy who needsyou. And I took it. I fucking embraced it. All for a scrap of your attention, so I can feel safe. Feel like I deserve any of it—” He swallows. I want to wrap my arms around him, but I don’t move. I can’t. “I was so fucking selfish.”
I let his words scrape against me, leaving me raw. Bleeding. “So you were lying every time you said you trusted me? That you loved me?”
“Fuck, Nicholas. Don’t you fucking dare put this on me. It’s you who doesn’t trust me. And why would you? I’m just a killer. Hell, you don’t even think I’m that, do you? Just a henchman for Sam, now that you think he has found someone else to do his bidding. Better yet, maybe he never even needed me because apparently he can do the job himself.” Elliot laughs at my face, but it sounds hollow, just like my heart.
I stop fighting the sting in my eyes. I need to say something. He’s wrong. “That’s not—”
“Fucking save it. You know what, you gave it a solid try. I’d give you that. You tried so hard with all your affection, your food, your care. You even said you loved me every fucking time to make yourself believe it.” He shakes his head. “It didn’t work, did it? At least, you can live knowing you gave it your best, just like Detective Nicholas Harper does with everything in his life.” He turns and stalks towards the door.
I follow him mindlessly. “No, no. Elliot, I love you. Please. I really don’t under—”
He turns before opening the door. “Leave Sam alone. I’ll get you his alibi and find you the killer within two weeks.” My feet halt a few steps away, everything in me wanting to pull him closer, remove all the space between us. But I’m too frayed to take another rejection.
Then he pulls the door open and disappears, while I stand there staring as it slams shut, wondering why I didn't deny any of his accusations.
Chapter Fifteen
Roadblocks, Radical Solutions, and Reckless Self-Sacrifice
Elliot
I don't remember the drive home or rushing through the house. Somehow, I end up sprawled across my bed, drowning in self-pity. I’m just happy Sam was already in his room, or maybe out, and didn’t witness my breakdown.
