Page 126 of To All the Men I’ve Killed Before

Aidan’s eyes widen. ‘Yes?’

‘Which one first?’

His brow puckers a little. ‘What do you mean?’

Antoinette fixes him with one of her hard stares. ‘It’s not a complicated question, Aidan. Which. One. First?’

I decide to help him out as it’s clearly challenging his brain. ‘Antoinette wanted to go straight to throat slicing,’ I say, ‘but I thought it would be more fun for you to experience some of what you put Tor through. That’s why we made that list for you. Think of it as a kind of menu.’ His eyes widen even more. ‘Time to pick your starter, Aidan.’ His eyes don’t leave mine. ‘What?’ I say. ‘Did you think that just because we bonded a bit while I was going through a crisis that I was going to spare you?’

I laugh in his face.

No chance.

Antoinette hops up and starts unravelling the tarpaulin sheet. ‘This will make it easier to clean up when we’re done,’ she says cheerfully.

I stand up and start unpacking the bundle of tools I brought down with me; the knives, the kettlebell, the electric meat tenderiser. ‘You’re awfully quiet, Aidan,’ I say. ‘I guess it’s chef’s choice?’ I pick up the kettlebell. ‘How about we start with that cheekbone?’

Antoinette has finished rolling out the tarp. She looks up. ‘That’s Agnes’s,’ she says. ‘Be careful not to get too much head gunk on it.’

‘I can’t promise that,’ I say as I make my way over to Aidan.

67

Kitty and Antoinette’s Airbnb, West Hollywood, Los Angeles

Some time later, I’m not sure exactly how long because time sort of loses itself when you’re torturing a man in a wine cellar, the door creaks open and I hear feet on the steps. I look up and it’s Charlie, holding a tray of what looks like lemonade.

‘Lauren made drinks,’ he says. ‘I figured you’d be getting thirsty by now?’

‘Oh God, yes!’ Antoinette says, dropping the hammer she’s been working with and skipping over to the steps and Charlie.

I want to stop him from coming any closer. Charlie is so pure and, even though he says he’s accepted who I am and what I do, I worry that seeing me in action might give him the ick. Aidan isn’t looking great at the moment. His face alone would be enough to make even the strongest stomach quiver.

‘Thanks,’ I say. ‘You can leave it up there.’

But Charlie is already making his way into the cellar.

He puts the tray on the floor before standing up and tilting his head and looking at Aidan.

Aidan is, remarkably, still conscious even though we’ve gone to town on his cheekbone and ribs. I’m half-impressed that he didn’t pass out when we fed his right hand, the one he used to hit Tor, into the meat tenderiser.

That was Antoinette’s idea.

The girl is beautifully sadistic.

He sees Charlie and his eyes, which had begun to deaden with each menu item we served up to him, suddenly brighten.

‘Help me,’ he croaks. I haven’t gotten to his Adam’s apple yet. It will be one of the last things I do. I want to hear every single utterance until he takes his last breath. ‘Please. They’re killing me. Slowly.’

I look at Charlie, expecting a haunted look in his eyes, but he just stares at Aidan with an expression I can’t make out.

‘It’s Aidan, right?’ he says after a moment. ‘I don’t believe we’ve met.’

‘Help me, man, they’re crazy.’

Charlie lifts a hand to his face and rubs his stubble. ‘Are they?’ he says. ‘Or are they justifiably fucking furious about what you did?’

Aidan’s left eye is a pulpy mess but his right eye widens. ‘You’ve gotta help me, bro?’