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He looks tired, but he’s pushing through it. Following his dad’s orders like he always has, clearly.
“I spent all this time thinking you were a monster,” I tell him, my voice low and rough. “I laid awake at night, tossing and turning in my bed, thinking about what you did. What I thought you did. Killing my father with no expression on your face, like you did it as easily as breathing. Like it came naturally to you. I didn’t even know how to be around someone like that.”
I swallow. My throat feels fucking parched, scratchy and painful.
“But then I realized I was wrong. You didn’t kill my dad. You weren’t that person.” He’s not looking at me, but I keep my gaze locked on the small part of his face I can see in the small mirror. “Maybe I wasn’t wrong, though. You’re going to do to me what I thought you did to him. With that same look on your face, like it doesn’t matter. Like I don’t matter. So maybe I was right all along. Maybe you are a monster with no feelings and no remorse at all.”
Nothing changes in Sloan’s face as he stares at me for a second and then glances back at the road.
“You’re not so fucking innocent,” he says, his voice strained. “Because of you, a man might have died today.” He shakes his head. “And if he’s not dead yet, he’ll probably wish he was soon, because the Jackals aren’t going to just let him be. He knows too much. They’re not just going to give him a comfortable room of his own and let him keep living his life peacefully until they get what they want.”
I catch the subtle jab at my own situation. Even though I was being used as collateral to make sure my dad did what they wanted, I was kept in a nice house—given food and basic necessities, and even allowed to keep going to school.
I was lucky, in the grand scheme of things.
“They’ll torture him for information, trying to find out as much as they can about our operation,” Sloan adds. His voice turns even sharper, like he’s trying to cut me with his words alone. “That’s all on you, Mercy.”
My stomach twists and bile climbs up my throat. I know he’s right. Whatever I thought or didn’t think, whatever happened or didn’t happen, that’s on me. A man’s life is about to be ended or ruined because I sold him out. That’s something I can’t make right, and even if somehow Sloan doesn’t kill me today, it’ll be on my conscience forever.
How can I even look my father or Scarlett or anyone in the eye, knowing what happened is my fault?
We leave the last outskirts of Fairview Heights, driving into the more forested areas that separate our big, crowded city from the next big, crowded city. I recognize the area as a place people like to go to hike and take their dogs to run, but we pass that pretty quickly, following a winding road until the pavement runs out, and I can hear gravel and dirt crunching under the tires of Sloan’s car.
We’re really off the beaten path now, going deeper and deeper into the woods. The trees start to get thicker around us, and pretty soon Sloan won’t be able to drive through them at all.
The late afternoon light barely filters through, making it a gloomy scene when he finally stops the car in front of a big tree and cuts the engine. The silence is deafening.
He gets out of the car, shutting his door before coming around to open mine. Before I can even think about trying to make a run for it, he’s grabbing my arm again, dragging me out.
My arm aches a little from his fingers digging into it so many times today. My wrists hurt from the ropes tied around them, and twisting them doesn’t make the rope get any looser.
I drag my feet a little, but it doesn’t stop Sloan as he pulls me away from the car and marches me even deeper into the woods.
As we walk, I glance around, trying to memorize landmarks or something in case I’m able to fight my way free and have to run, but it’s just trees. Trees and more trees, all of them identical enough that I couldn’t tell them apart even if I was in my right mind. With where my head is at right now, I don’t stand a chance.
I lose sight of the car as we keep walking, finally coming to a little clearing that’s ringed by still more trees. The ground beneath my feet is spongy with moss and grass and leaves, and the earthy smell of it fills my nose.
My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. If I thought I was on edge before, it’s nothing compared to how I feel now, cold dread working its way down my spine. No matter how many times I think about it, it’s hard to wrap my mind around. I can’t believe this is really happening.
I’m about to die.
I can feel myself trembling a little bit, adrenaline and fear making an uncomfortable cocktail in my body. I feel hot and cold and then hot again all over, and I look at Sloan, even though I have no idea what I’m hoping to see.
He’s just as fucking impassive as ever, giving nothing away. He’s either cold-blooded as fuck, or a great actor, pretending this doesn’t matter to him at all.
I remember the worry and concern on Levi’s and Rory’s faces before they left Gavin’s office, and I remember the look the three of them shared. They trusted Sloan, and here he is about to kill me anyway.
“What are Rory and Levi going to say when they find out about this?” I demand, licking my lips. “That you dragged me out into the middle of the fucking woods and killed me?”
Even saying it out loud makes my stomach swoop uncomfortably, and I swallow back the tide of sour bile again.
“They’ll understand,” Sloan says. “When they realize that you were just using them the whole time. You were fucking lying and manipulating them, making them fall for you with your flirting and teasing, just so you could sabotage them in the end.”
He spits it out like it’s supposed to be a condemnation, but there’s something like hurt in his voice. Like he’s talking about himself as much as the other two.
I want to argue that it wasn’t like that, that I wasn’t using them. But… wasn’t I? I wanted to get closer to them. I wanted them to trust me. I felt so justified in doing it then, taking an “any means necessary” approach to getting what I needed.
What I thought I needed.
