Page 79 of His Wicked Revenge

I reach for where my phone is charging on my nightstand and blind myself because I forgot to turn the brightness down. Quickly decreasing the brightness, I blink a few times until my eyes adjust.

Midnight.

The only person who could be knocking at my door right now is the woman who lives across the hall. I’m not in the mood to play games tonight. I lock my phone and lay back down, choosing to ignore her.

That is until the knocks become more frantic, and I hear her pleading for me to let her in. The scared tone in her voice makes me jump out of bed.

Something is wrong.

What if something happened to Chloe when they were out?

I race to the door, not bothering to dress myself. When I swing the door open, my eyes widen at the sight before me.

Blood.

There is so much blood. And it’s covering Veronica’s skin. Her legs are covered. The black dress has dark stains in spots and is drenched in others. The blood continues up her arms, on her neck, and is splattered all over her face.

“Can I come in?” Her voice quivers as she asks.

I step aside, allowing her to enter. “What the hell happened? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Is Chloe okay?”

“Chloe is fine.” She tosses her heels by the wall next to the front door. Veronica stands there, staring forward as if she were in a daze.

“What about you?” I ask once I’m standing in front of her. “This blood⁠—”

“It’s not mine.”

Inspecting her body for any marks, I meet her hazy stare. “What did you do?”

“I—uhm—I—” Her words get lost as she swallows, shutting her eyes and shaking her head.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. Then you can tell me what happened.” I move beside her, my hand finding her lower back as I guide her to the bathroom. “Does that sound okay?”

She nods, not saying anything in response. When we arrive in the bathroom, I flick the light on and immediately start the shower.

Veronica stands still, looking at herself in the mirror. There is still a sheen in her eyes, and it doesn’t seem like she sees her reflection.

“Veronica,” I cautiously call her name. Her eyes slide slowly to me. She stays standing there as I approach. “I’m going to take your dress off.”

“No.” She shakes her head, stepping out of my reach. “Don’t touch it.”

“Vee—”

“No, Leo. If someone finds out, the dress could be evidence.” Her hands clench into fists at her side. “Your prints can’t be on it.”

Evidence? Jesus. What did she do?

“We will get rid of the dress,” I tell her, moving an inch closer. “We can burn it.”

She meets my stare. I knew the offer of burning it would get her attention. “Where?”

“In the basement. There is an incinerator for trash.” One more step toward her. “I’ll bag it up and toss it in there.”

“Okay.” Her voice sounds defeated.

Carefully, I pinch the thin strap of her dress and drag it down her arm, being cautious not to let any blood touch my skin. I proceed to do the same with the other, and when her arms are free from the straps, I have to bend down and tug the dress off by its hem. Veronica steps out of it and then heads to the shower.

Once she is under the hot water, I leave go to the bathroom to get a trash bag from the kitchen.