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This is all my fault.
The crooked smile on Joel’s face is as traumatizing as it is evil. I give him a once-over, taking in his attire. His clothes don’t even fit him. The sleeves of his jacket are too short, and he had to roll up the hem of his jeans—he must’ve stolen himself an outfit after he escaped.
Not to mention he looks like he hasn’t showered in days, his long hair greasy and his beard a scruffy mess. He’s changed since I last saw him, and not in a good way. Not that he looked great before prison. He looked like he’d been using every day of his life back then, too, but I don’t remember him looking this rough.
I zero in on Dia. Her cheeks are soaked with tears, and her mouth is covered by a piece of tape. The whole thing looks like a scene straight out of a fucking movie.
Except… it’s real.
The gun is real.
The bullets are real.
And happy endings aren’t guaranteed.
I lift my hands up, moving closer like he’s a wild animal I don’t want to scare away. My focus shifts to my feet when I step into a puddle. What the…
I scan my surroundings, my eyes following the trail of liquid stretching across the common areas. Fucking hell. The psycho’s got the whole place doused in gasoline. One strike of a match and it’s over. Jesus, how could I not hear him? Granted, the bath was running, but we didn’t even hear him break in.
Unless… he was already in the house.
“Let her go, Joel.” I try to sound assertive, but it comes out as a plea.
“Let me think about it.” Joel buries his face into Dia’s hair, causing her to flinch, and inhales her scent. “Nah.”
Every nerve in my body wants to go apeshit on him. Every part of me tells me to pounce and rip the motherfucker apart, but my brain is louder than my impulses.
He has a gun.
I can’t risk it.
I can’t risk her.
“What do you want?” I ask.
My question triggers him.
“What do I want?” he snaps. “You fuck my life up with one phone call to Daddy, and then you ask me what I want?” He applies pressure to Dia’s throat, causing her to gasp, and I see red.
“Take your fucking hands off her,” I warn.
“Or what?” he spits. “You’re going to send me to jail again? Might be worth it if it means I get to turn your pretty little girlfriend into a pile of ashes.”
That’s why he’s here.
He probably wants to kill us both and set the place on fire to destroy the evidence.
“Shout-out to your friend’s pregnant girl for posting about this all over her socials, by the way. Made finding you so much easier.”
Shit.
I’m not surprised he recognized Lacey’s house from the pictures Aveena posted. He’s been here before. The night of Lacey’s party the summer when Dia and I first met. I owed him money, and he showed up to threaten me.
“My buddy should be gutting that baby out of her right about now.”
Dia’s tears immediately multiply, the look of horror in her eyes too much to bear.
“Of course, he has to smash that Xavier guy’s fingers first. Basketball players don’t need their hands, right?”
