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I said, “I’m glad you asked.”
Then I flipped the knife in the air, flicked my hand around, caught the handle, and slammed it into his leg.
He went lax for a second, then he let loose with a scream, tipping his head back.
I murmured softly while he kept screaming, “How about every time you don’t answer a question, I’ll start slicing?”
Michael wasn’t listening. He kept screaming, trying to scoot his chair away from us, but it didn’t matter. He couldn’t go anywhere. I still had a firm grasp on that knife, and it was still embedded in his thigh.
I was holding him anchored in one place.
Then I looked up and met Bryce’s gaze. He was startled, and he ran a hand over his face. He wasn’t the angry and commanding one anymore. He was hesitant, but that didn’t bother me. What bothered me was the new look he was giving me.
He was looking at me like I was stranger.
I drew upright, yanking the knife out as I did.
This brought on another burst of screams, but I dulled them out. I continued to stare at Bryce. Then I asked, quietly, “Isn’t this why you brought him here?”
He cursed under his breath. “Sheldon.”
I didn’t look at Corrigan. Somehow I knew that he wasn’t looking at me the same way. Somehow I knew he was right there with me. He understood.
I was tired. I was tired of being stalked. I was tired of being hunted. I was tired of losing friends. I was tired of it all so now it was my turn. I was done with being nice.
I shook my head at Bryce. If he couldn’t handle it, he needed to go. He understood the message and moved back a step, but his hands went into his pockets, and he stayed there. Fine. He wasn’t leaving, but he wasn’t joining in. I got it. So I looked up at Corrigan now, and I’d been right.
There was no hesitation, no shock, no questioning. He was ready, so I told him, “Ask your next question.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
Corrigan only had to ask a few. I did a couple more jabs, but I went for shallow cuts. I hadn’t completely checked out. I was still sane. Really hurting him wouldn’t help us get any information, but he needed to think I would do it. So I let a part of myself out that would’ve hurt him, the old me. I had hurt people when I was younger. I’d been
dumb, but it happened. That Sheldon got locked up after Marcus. I’d been scared of letting her out, but as I did just now, it felt good. It felt right.
Enough of her had to come out so that it was real. Michael had to sense it, that the threat was real, and a part of it was.
Michael denied stalking me. He denied killing Grace. He denied framing me, but when Corrigan demanded to know why he had those photos of me, Michael perked up. He was exhausted as he said, “That’s what this is about? Those photographs?”
Bryce made an exasperated sound behind him. “Are you kidding me?”
“Yeah.” Corrigan shook his head. “We already told you that.”
Michael frowned, looking from Corrigan to me. “For real? It’s just about those pictures?”
“What else do they have on you?”
“Uh . . .”
I started forward with the knife, my hand raised.
He cried out, “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you everything. I swear. Just—stop with the knife. Stop it.”
I lowered it, but raised my eyebrows. “We’re waiting.”
“Okay. Yes. I’m trying not to pee my pants, anymore.” He let out a deep breath, blinking his eyes a few times, and took a second breath to calm his nerves. “All right. This is what I thought you guys had on me, but I couldn’t figure out why you were so mad.” He looked from Corrigan to me and tried to turn around to see Bryce, but couldn’t. He ended up staring upward at Corrigan, a defeated expression already on his face before he started. Then he began, “You know that I wanted to sell study enhancers to college students, right?”
Corrigan nodded, his eyes lidded. “Yeah.”
