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She is too pale, and I let her sit down on the edge of the bed. “He said that he knew the security team ordered food on Thursday afternoons. He waited for the delivery guy on the edge of the road, and he ran him over.”
Her voice chokes on that. “He killed a young boy, and he wasn’t bothered in the least.”
“The boy’s alive,” Mark tells her. “He was sitting up when I drove by.”
The huge breath that Eve releases is one of gratitude, and she continues. “He put sedatives in the food and then locked up the unconscious guards behind the house. He said that they might not even wake up because the dosage he gave them was too strong.”
I see Mark on the phone, and I ignore him.
“He wasn’t expecting Henrietta, and he had the house keys from the guards, and then Henrietta pulled out a gun when he showed up. But the gun was empty, and I tried to distract him. He said you insulted him way back and cost him his job. And that you’re the reason he was discredited so openly this time around.”
Eve’s mouth trembles before she firms it and she gives me a stark look. “His eyes were dead, Zayn. I’ve never seen such cold eyes. He asked me where Mila was, and I said she was with you. I thought—I thought that once he killed me, he would go after her, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t bear the thought!”
I can’t bear the thought that she had accepted her death as so inevitable.
I crouch on the ground. “Mila is okay. You’re okay. You’re okay.”
I kiss her hands. “You’re fine.”
Eve purses her lips to stop the trembling before continuing. “He hired prostitutes that looked like an ex-girlfriend of yours. He was after her too. He was going to hang this on her neck.”
Stupid man, I think, glancing at the unconscious form on the ground.
He should have done his research.
He had no clue that Sheila was traveling.
“Zayn?”
“Yes. I’m here.” I reach out to stroke her hair away from her face.
“That’s how he got the pictures. He killed those women, Zayn. The ones he hired. He didn’t want loose ends. He sent the social worker after us. He bribed her to record the conversation, promised to make her rich. He killed her, too.”
Eve is shaking now.
Despite how strong she is, this much blood and murder could get to anyone.
“He wanted to be famous. That’s all. He didn’t care how. And he wanted revenge on you. He said he was one of the top photographers in the game before you took him down and your manager blacklisted him. He was going to kill me and then take photographs and be the first to publish the news after the police came on the scene. He killed people just to be famous. Who does that?”
“He was insane,” I murmur, trying to calm her. Insane and desperate.
“The police are on their way,” Mark says from the hall.
“How is he still unconscious?” I ask, staring down at Frank, suppressing the urge to pick up the sword and plunge it through his dark heart.
“I shot him, and he hit his head on the bedpost.” Mark sounds disgusted. “What a fucking idiot.”
Eve looks at Mark, who stares back at her, and she seems to grasp some semblance of normalcy. “Ron’s not going to be happy with you, you know.”
“You wouldn’t tell him,” Mark scowls.
“Tell him yourself. Or I will,” Eve says simply.
He shakes his head. “You’ve just been through a traumatizing event, and you can still threaten me. Nerves of fucking steel.”
It is a front, I can see. My Eve is trying to be brave.
“All right, Eve. Let’s go downstairs. I have an entire security team to fire.”
