Page 112 of Deadfall

He surged up and quickly disarmed me. He pressed the gun against my jaw while he held one wrist pinned behind my back.

“You know why? It’s because you’re nothing without me, Syn.” He leaned in close and caressed the barrel down my cheek. “Nothing, and you know that—deep down, you know that. What would you do without me, baby? I. Own. You.”

I glared up at him, my breaths short and shallow. My fingers grasped the one last lifeline I had.

“You’re wrong,” I said, my voice breathless with adrenaline.

Riggs scoffed. “About which part?”

“All of it.”

The rage I’d kept under wraps for years surged free and I brought the hidden knife up and buried it into his side. A savage twist allowed me to knock the gun aside where it flew out of his hand and into the dark. I was done being talked down to.

I rushed past him and as I did, I yanked the knife out and slashed at the backs of his knees. I took a few steps away and heard his breathless gasp of pain as he crashed to the ground. I looked down at the dark blood on the blade and took a deep breath of cold night air.

The darkness closed in. I vaguely smelled pine, but I knew it was all in my head. I turned to Riggs and walked around to face him. Shock was written all over his face. I’d nicked a lung on purpose, and he drew in gasps like he couldn’t get enough air.

I sighed and shook my head sadly. “So delusional,” I said, my voice steady. “You’ve taken so much from me and like an arrogant man, you think that means you’ve left me with nothing.”

Riggs’ brow furrowed as he tried to wrap his peanut-sized mind around that one.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Riggs stammered.

“You’ve taught me a lot, Riggs,” I smirked. “You taught me how to compartmentalize. You taught me how to hide my emotions. You taught me how to manipulate a narcissist.”

I stepped forward and buried the blade slowly into his shoulder. I relished the feel of it slicing through his skin.

“I lost myself in you,” I said bitterly. “But, that ends now.”

He growled and lashed out a hand, but I twisted the knife again, and the pain overwhelmed him.

“Syn, come on, let’s get away from here,” Riggs gasped. He grimaced in pain and tripped over the words. “We–we can–start over–just you and me. I can change—”

I yanked the knife out and scoffed. “You? Change? Please. I know you think I’m stupid, but you know I’m not that stupid.”

I watched Riggs’ blood flow out of his wounds and drip onto the ground. In the dark, it wasn’t red, it was black and left the air tainted with copper and death.

“You can’t kill me,” Riggs spat. “You would have shot me—”

I pinched the bridge of my nose in exasperation. “No, see, you’re still not getting it. Why would I shoot you?” I placed the blade under his chin and forced him to look up. It was incredibly satisfying, even if all there was in his eyes was anger. He truly didn’t think I could kill him.

“Why would I shoot you,” I said again. “When I can make you suffer instead?”

“Fuck you,” Riggs growled.

“No. Fuck. You.” I stabbed him roughly in the stomach. He groaned and doubled over. I caught him, my hand going around his head, and I cradled him against my shoulder.

“Five stab wounds—for five years,” I whispered in his ear. “I think that’s three.”

I pulled out the knife and stabbed him in the stomach again. “Four.”

I shoved away and he toppled over onto his back. Blood gushed through his fingers as he tried to stop the bleeding.

I straddled him. “There it is.” I reveled in the fear I finally saw in his eyes. “I think you understand where I’m coming from now. Any last words—baby?”

Riggs gritted his teeth and a growl escaped. I held up my hand. “Actually—no. We’re going to do something different.”

I leaned forward, hovered inches above his gasping lips, and drove the blade slowly into his neck.