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I sighed. “Okay. But we’re still being pursued.”
“Let me talk to Rey.”
“So, you’re basically going to tell him to not murder us? I mean, Grandmother, what the…?” I stopped there knowing how much she hated swearing.
“Where are you?”
“Liverpool.”
“Try to come back tonight, then. The sooner the better.”
“Tomorrow. We’re exhausted.” And my boyfriend hates me. “We’ve been through the wars. It was terrifying.”
“Don’t talk to anyone.” The tremor in her voice wasn’t lost on me.
Is she worried about my wellbeing or something else?
“And tell Drake not a word to anyone—his mother, Carson, or Declan. Promise me.”
“I promise.” I sighed. “Bye, Grandmother.”
I closed the call and buried my head in a pillow, screamed, then cried my eyes out.
I needed Drake to hold me, not to hate me.
The pain was so intense I grabbed my flick knife from my bag and headed to the bathroom.
I cut into my inner thigh, where recent wounds had almost healed. I hadn’t cut myself for weeks, thanks to Drake and how happy he’d made me.
Sitting on the bathroom floor, I kept sobbing. The sting in my leg failed to mask the pain in my heart.
Chapter 26
Drake
Ablack-and-whitephotoofthe Beatles crossing the road with a shoeless Paul McCartney caught my eyes as I sat in the old pub, which might have doubled as a museum to that famous band.
Despite some interest, since my mother was a keen fan, I couldn’t get that gut-twisting image of Manon naked with her legs wide apart out of my head. It made me want to throw up. Add to that the fact that I’d killed someone, and I just wanted to hide somewhere dark and alone.
I drained my glass in three gulps. The barman filled it up without me even asking. I guessed he’d seen his share of troubled people clinging to glasses like their lives had fallen into a ditch.
A few days ago, life had been smiling at me. My account looked healthier than ever. I was about to put down a deposit on an apartment for my mother when I’d stupidly agreed to spy on that piece of slime. Then everything had descended into a dangerous game of cat and mouse.
After two pints, I rose and returned to the room to face Manon square on. The images had made me sick, but I also couldn’t leave her there alone.
My instincts were to run, to break loose, to get as far away as I could, but something tugged at my heart. I couldn’t abandon her, twisted as she was.
My legs felt like concrete as I made my way back to the hotel.
What would I say?
When I returned, I found her on the bathroom floor, her leg bleeding and blood dripping on the white tiles.
I took the knife from her hand, then grabbed a towel.
She looked up at me, stunned, like she didn’t know what had just happened.
“What the fuck?” I rubbed my head.
