Page 247 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

The words came automatically. Ronan turned.

“For what?”

Elliot swallowed.

“For hurting you.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“I know.”

“Do you regret killing them?”

Silence. “No.” There. The worst truth. Ronan’s face broke. Not dramatically. Just enough. Elliot felt his own chest tear open with it. “I wish I did.” Ronan stared. That answer landed differently. Elliot continued. “I know I should.” His voice felt strange. Too tight. “I know what you want me to feel.” “I don’t want you performing remorse.” “I’m not.” “Then what?” “I don’t know.” Ronan’s eyes remained on him. Elliot laughed weakly. “Maybe that’s the human answer you wanted.” Ronan didn’t smile. Neither did Elliot. For a long moment, they simply stood there. Then Ronan asked: “Were you going to kill Dylan tonight?” “No.” “Before someone took him?” “Yes.” Ronan’s face tightened. “When?” Elliot looked down. “I don’t know.” “Bullshit.” “Soon.” “Because of me.” “Yes.” Another silence. Ronan looked sick again. Then something changed. The second mask. The anonymous sender. Dylan’s abduction. Elliot could see Ronan remembering all of it. “Then whoever took Dylan knew.” Elliot’s attention sharpened. “Yes.” “Knew you wanted him dead.” “Maybe.” “How?” “I don’t know.” “Did you tell anyone?” “No.” “Claire?” “No.” “Anyone online?” “No.” “Did you write it?” “No.” “Search anything?” Elliot stared. “No.” Ronan stepped closer. “Then they were watching you closely enough to know.” “Yes.” Cold moved through both of them. The room felt smaller. Ronan looked toward the closed blinds. “Were they watching before Mason?” “Yes.” “How do you know?” “The video.” Ronan nodded. The footage of Mason before Elliot approached. Someone had been there first. Watching. “Then they’ve been following you for weeks.” “Longer.” Ronan looked at him. “What?” Elliot swallowed. There was another truth. One he hadn’t told because it hadn’t seemed connected. That phrase again. Everything eventually mattered. “I got messages before Mason.” Ronan went completely still. “What?” “Not like these.” “When?” “Months ago.” “What did they say?” Elliot looked toward the floor. “Mostly nothing.” Ronan laughed bitterly. “Try again.” “Pictures.” “Of what?” “Me.” The room changed. Ronan stared. “Pictures of you.” “Yes.”

“Where?”

“Campus. Outside the house. Sometimes with you.”

Ronan’s face drained.

“And you never fucking told me?”

“I thought it was some creep.”

“That is exactly when you tell someone.”

“I handled it.”

“Clearly.”

Elliot flinched. Ronan stepped closer.

“How many?”

“I don’t know. Ten maybe.”

“Still have them?”

“No.”

“You deleted them.”

“Yes.”

Ronan closed his eyes.

“Of course.”

“I didn’t know.”

“You never know until it matters.”

The sentence hurt because it was true. Elliot looked away. Ronan lowered his voice.

“What did the first message say?”

He remembered. Perfectly. A photograph of Elliot leaving Bellweather. The caption beneath it: You’re prettier when nobody knows what you’re thinking. Elliot had assumed admirer. Stalker. Someone trying to scare him. He hadn’t responded. Another picture arrived a week later. Then another. Eventually they stopped. Until Mason.