Page 44 of Pretty Nightmare

“I’m not gonna kill you.”

He sneers at me. “I’m so over it. And besides, Indie will come back around. She always does. And when that happens, she’ll ask about me. She always does. And trust me on this, McKay. Doesn’t matter what she thinks I did to her. Or even what I actually did do to her. She loves me. And if she ever finds out you were the one to end it, she would never forgive you.”

“You don’t need to threaten me to save your life, Nathan. I already told you I wasn’t gonna kill you.”

“They’re not threats. They’re just facts.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t actually have an issue with you.” I narrow my eyes at him. “At least I didn’t. Up until now.”

Nathan says nothing to that.

And it’s a good thing too. Because I hear it in my voice. That growl. The very same one that Indie just used on Donovan when he dragged her into the house.

It’s not unique to her.

We all have it.

“But now,” I say, looking over in the direction of his cottage, “now you’re gonna sell me that land.” I nod my head towards it. “And you’re gonna disappear. For good, Nathan. I don’t care where you go, ya just can’t stay here.”

“Why? Because I might mess up his little plan? I might actually save Indie and Maggie instead of feeding them to the wolves? How fucking dumb are you?”

“How fuckin’ dumb am I?” I point to my chest, then shake my head. “I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

He looks back at the mansion and spits on the ground one more time. Like he’s trying to get the bad taste of Old Home out of his mouth. Then his one open eye finds mine. “Fuck you, McKay.”

I picture how I might kill Nathan St. James. Right here, standing on the edge of the garden, in full view of Old Home. Where Donovan might see. Or hell, maybe even Indie.

I put all the moves together the way I might on a job. When I’m in a rush and… you know, don’t want to drag the fucking process out. When I want to be efficient instead of psychotic.

But I cut off that imagery and tuck the plan away somewhere safe. Because he’s right.

The risk of Indie ever blaming me for Nathan’s death is low. Very low. Hell, she’s so damn impressionable, one short conversation—phrased just the right way—would be enough to convince her that she did, in fact, finish him off. And that would be the end of it.

But I’m tired. And still drugged. I feel better, but not a hundred percent. Nathan St. James won’t go easy. He will fight. He has a savage side to him. Always has. He will fight until his last fucking breath. And even then, he’ll use whatever residual chemical and neural reactions he has left inside his body to strike a final blow.

I know this because he is me.

He is Adam.

He is us.

“Here’s how this is gonna go down, Nathan. You are gonna leave here today and you are never gonna come back. I’m gonna make sure there’s nothing for you to come back to. Hear me?”

“As if there was ever anything here for me but Indie. And Donovan took her away from me a long time ago.”

I chew on that for a moment, trying to make all the words fit together in some sensible way.

“But I would just like to go on record…” Nathan’s eyes blaze with hate and anger.

Fuckin’ A. All this time I thought it was us who hated him, but this look right here? This says something else. He was the one who hated us.

“I would just like to make it clear that I left, OK? I left her when she told me I had to.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I didn’t leave her behind when I went to school because Adam threatened me. If you guys think I’m afraid of you—“ He laughs. It devolves into a cough pretty quick. But I get the general idea that he feels this to be a joke. “I’m not afraid of you. You know why I’m not afraid of you, Core McKay?”

“I’m not in the mood to guess. Or have this conversation, to be honest. But if this is something you need to get off your chest before you leave and never see my face again, then”—I pan my arms wide—“by all means, tell me more.”