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“That’s fantastic, LeeAnn,” I deadpan, shrugging my shoulders, even though the weight in my chest intensifies, expanding like a toxic supernova, explosions of light morphing to blinding pain. “I already knew you were a piece of shit, nice to see it solidified. What were you planning on doing with Riley?”
“I’m pretty sure you’ve already figured that out. Since your friend had our glorious operation shut down, we’ve been having to grab girls on a case-by-case basis, pretty much snatching them whenever we can and getting them sold as soon as possible. I knew Riley would be a fighter, but I didn’t realize Romeo wasn’t equipped to handle her. Honestly, when I didn’t get word of her transport, I’d assumed she was dead. Until I got a report card in the mail, detailing her work at summer school.”
LeeAnn smiles, her yellowed teeth just barely visible in the moonlight, sending another hot wave of fury over me. I’m growing impatient, listening to her fucking monologue, my hands itching to wrap around her throat.
“A shame I missed out on the last few months, but better late than never,” she says, and I hear the click of her turning off the safety, followed by the magazine loading into its chamber. My chest pulls tight as I wait, wanting to see if she makes the first move. “Romeo might be dumb, but he did follow through with his side of the deal. Didn’t think he’d be able to, given his temperament.”
“Romeo’s dead.” Soon to be buried in a watery grave with his father.
“I figured he would be. I wasn’t interested in him, anyway—just wanted him to give me access to the Ivers girl, so I could track her here and have you play the hero once again. Still so terribly soft. So weak.”
She seems to get lost in the revelation of her plan, her hand drooping slightly, and that’s when I strike. Her hesitancy is what drives me forward.
Before she has a chance to pull the trigger, I dive for her waist, tackling her to the ground. The gun falls from her hand, and I kick it away as she slaps me in the face, one fingernail slicing the skin open.
Groaning, I climb on top of her and pin her arms by her sides with my knees, squeezing her torso until she coughs, struggling to reach oxygen.
My fists ball and surge forward as if they’re separate from the rest of my body, pummeling her face until she’s sputtering, blood and saliva caking her lips. The moonlight shines where a tooth used to be, and she spits it in my direction, nearly hitting me in the face.
When I pause, she’s a moaning mass of muscle and tissue, and there’s adrenaline and the bare bones of evil cravings pumping through my veins, making me lightheaded.
Scrambling to my feet before she reorients herself, I sweep my arms along the grass, searching for her gun several feet away, then train it on her left thigh and pull the trigger, reveling in the bloodcurdling scream that tears from her throat.
“Too bad you didn’t have one of your sick clients put me out of my misery, like they always tried to do,” I sneer, walking to her, adding a bullet in the other leg just for good measure, salivating at the way she convulses in pain, her body spasming through her screams. “Maybe this would’ve ended differently for you.”
Bending down as I hear another set of footsteps approach, I take my thumb and drive it into the bullet wound in her thigh, pressing down as hard as I can; the blood pulses, gushing out around me in waves, and I reach up, smearing it across her face as her gargled screams turn to begging.
“Where was my mercy, Mother? Or Riley’s? How the fuck could you do that shit to your own kids?”
But I don’t wait for an answer—don’t fucking want one. At this point, there’s no explanation, no reason she could give that would absolve her of her sins.
Tonight, she atones for them.
She gasps as I shove my hand down into her mouth, pushing my knuckles to the back of her throat until I feel it throb; when she vomits, I yank free and clamp my dirty hand down over her mouth and nose, reveling in the way she thrashes, trying to claw herself free.
Choking on her own filth.
With my free hand, I stick my middle finger into her wound, pressing through the skin and muscle until I feel bone. Her movements slow as the fight leaves her body, and I pull my hand away just before she passes out completely, not wanting her to miss this next bit.
Limp but still alive and breathing, she rolls to her side, spitting out the vomit she didn’t swallow. She sucks in gulps of air as Kieran finally approaches, a red gallon of gasoline in hand.
That was always the plan for her.
Trial by fire.
“‘Bout time you showed up,” I say, yanking the gas from his hand. “I thought she was going to shoot me for a while there.”
He rolls his eyes, pulling out a matchbook. “Had to fucking clean up Fiona’s disaster. She’d put a tarp over him and just left him by the dumpster like this is amateur hour or something. Can you imagine what Kal or Finn would say if they saw that and knew a relative of mine had done that? My reputation would be ruined.”
LeeAnn rolls back onto her back, her screams subsiding to chest-rattling sobs. “Please...” she croaks, her voice ruined, broken the way she tried to make Riley and me.
But this is only the end of her story, not ours.
Ours is just beginning.
Kieran groans, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he tosses me the matches. “Jesus, don’t beg. It never changes the outcome. Have some fucking dignity.”
Swallowing, I take a step forward and uncap the gasoline, tipping it forward and pouring it directly onto her face. She screams, raising her hands to try and block the liquid, but it leaks through her fingers and into her mouth and nose, making her sputter.
