Page 79 of Watched

“Sacrifice.”

“You plan on killing me?”

“Maybe.”

“Blade,” Dad greets unenthusiastically.

Blade stares at the phone. “You’re never happy to hear from me.”

“Whenever you call, it’s never good news.”

“Rain has a plan,” Blade explains, relaying what we just discussed as he stares at Alexa. “But I want to be the bait.”

I sit up straighter.

“I know where this is going,” Dad laughs dryly.

“I do this, and you let me bring her here,” Blade negotiates.

He always has a plan.

“Your precious son will stay safe, and you know I’ll kill whoever I need to.”

Precious? Fuck him.

“I’ll think about it,” Dad sighs.

Blade stares at the phone. “Twenty-four hours, and I want an answer, or we do it my way.”

“You do not give me terms, Blade.”

“I’m losing my patience.” Blade smiles.

Nope, this isn’t good. The motherfucker’s smiling.

“And that’s the problem,” Dad says calmly. “You can’t control yourself. Say I bring her here for you, what happens when you get caught up, and you choke her to death?”

“I wouldn’t do that.” The calm, collected tone returns. “And do you really think you can manipulate me, Dad?”

I’ve never known what true darkness looked like, felt like, until I realised Blade could suffocate a room merely with his presence. Right now, I can hardly breathe. Sleeping at Rome’s house the past two nights has been blissful peace.

“I wouldn’t kill her,” Blade emphasises when Dad doesn’t reply.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Are your trying to piss me off?”

“Dad,” I call, and Blade’s enraged eyes snap to me, noting the loss of composure in my tone. “We need a way to draw them out.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Three beeps echo as the line cuts.

“I need you to help end this.” Blade drops his chin back to his arms, staring at the painting. “You’re the only person besides her who I trust.”

Hot ash falls to my lap, and I hiss, jumping up to bush it to the floor and grinding my cigarette into the ashtray on the table beside me. Blade chuckles, because that’s who he is—he laughs at others’ misfortune.

There have been a few moments when I allow myself to imagine what my life might have been like had he not appeared that day. Then I remember the six months before he started at school, when we read psychology and emotional intelligence books together, and I’d help him study various subjects so he could enter junior year with me.