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But the footsteps behind me are unmistakable. They sluice through the rain, echoing off of the cement of the sidewalk, and I turn around with my heart in my throat, praying it’s just some neighbor coming home or walking an ornery dog that prefers to piddle in the rain.
It’s not, of course, because I can never get that lucky.
It’s Christie.
My hands clench at my sides, and I keep the leg with the gun on it towards the car. Though, with just the light of the streetlamps above us for illumination, I don’t know how she’ll see much more than the paleness of my face and my general features. Just like I see of her. Though Icansee that she has a gun in her hand, andthatmakes me nervous.
I don’t know if I can beat her in some kind of Western-style shootout. She’ll probably come out the winner if it comes down to that.
“How did you find your way back?” she asks from the trunk of the car, her hand pressing against the shiny black of it. She’s soaked as well and stares at me with nothing close to surprise on her face.
I give her a wry, flat grin. “I turned on my phone and dropped it in the bushes.” There’s no point in hiding it from her because we’re here now, and what’s she going to do about it? Other than kill me for my audacity of wanting to save Isaac.
“Oh.” She considers my words, and it seems like she’s mildly impressed, if anything. “I didn’t catch that. It’s smart of you. You’re wasted on those boys, you know. They’renothing, and you’re so much better than them.”
“You don’t know anything about them,” I point out.
“I do though,” she assures me. “Would you like to know what I know?”
“Not really.”
“What did they tell you, Ari? Did they tell you that sob story about having a bad childhood that Cyril ‘saved’ them from?” She gives me an incredulous frown. “Did youbelievethem?”
I don’t say a word because I don’t want to tip her off that itiswhat I’ve been told. And, of course, I believe them.
“It’s true, I guess, to an extent. But Cyril didn’t just pluck them out of those situations out of the kindness of his heart. That psychopath, Ezra? He killed his older brother with a knife. Chopped him into bits with a smile on his face and never felt bad about it. Arlo? Set his mother’s car on fire with her in it. Ashe killed his uncle, and Cyril Chancellor kept him out of jail forthat.” She frowns. “And your friendIsaacin there? Hekilledhis parents. Both of them. He shot them dead in their sleep and left them there.”
I meet her gaze, and I don’t feel any kind of way about all of that. Because Iknowthat for Isaac, at least, he had a really good reason to kill his parents, they were awful and abusive. But all of themdidleave out the fact that they killed their family members.
It should bother me.
But it doesn’t.
Christie must see that in my eyes because she scoffs and shakes her head. “What have they done to you, Ari?” she sighs. “For you to not care about something big likethis?”
“You don’t have room to talk,” I tell her, keeping my words crisp and light. “You want to killthem, and you almost killedme.You’re a criminal, an asshole, and you don’t actually care about me.” I shake my head again, scattering drops of water from the rain. It’s died down significantly as she’s told me about the boys, but it’s still a steady drizzle around us.
Though now I can hear gunshots. Occasionally I can hear a yell from down the street as well, and I wonder how long it’ll be until the cops show up.
“Isaac’s probably dead by now,” Christie says. “He wasn’t doing so well when I left–”
“Stop talking,” I whisper. “Stop sayinganything.”
“Or what, Ari? Or you’ll cry? Will you really cry when all of those boys are dead, and you have your wholelifeahead of you, free of them?” She holsters the gun and walks around the car, approaching me with slow, measured steps.
“What’s the point, huh? They’re notworth your time. You don’t want this life. I promise you that.”
“Because you don’t want it?” She falters at my words but continues towards me until only a few inches separate us. She still can’t see the gun, but that’s not my weapon of choice this time.
It’s the knife Ezra gave me.
“Areyouthe one who’s regretting her life choices? Do you wish that you would’ve stayed away from Declan Roger and hiscrewof assholes? They’re not a family. Not like the Lost Boys are a family.” I frown at her, my eyes narrowed with pity. “I’m sorry that none of this worked out for you. I couldn’t be sorrier, actually. But you don’t know me. You don’t know whatIwant or what my life is like.”
She steps forward again, but this time my knife is out and pressed to her throat before she can do anything other than register the sharp blade against her skin. Thunder rumbles loudly above us, but I don’t take my eyes off of the other woman, my hand tight on the blade.
“Don’t,” I tell her, stepping forward so that we’re almost pressed together. “Don’t, Christie. I’ve never killed someone. And I don’t think I want to start with you, but I have a lot less mental resistance to this as you think I do.” I lift my chin to meet her eyes, holding her gaze with mine. “Don’t make me kill you in the fucking street.”
"Oh, I don’t know.” Arlo’s voice behind me makes me nearly drop the knife. He sounds amused and a little bit tired, but nothing likegriefechoes in his tone. “I think this would be a really good first kill for you, Ari. She does deserve it, after all.”
