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What had they done to deserve her attention? What life had they lived up until then that caused nothing more to be left of them than their eyes?
I turned my gaze to the many rows of eyes. Some were blue, green, and brown. It would seem that she didn’t have much of a preference and there were no indicators as to why she collectedtheseones.
I took a step closer, trying to get a look at the one on the bottom right. There were a few more spots open next to it, so I assumed this was one of the newest.
Quinn shifted and took a few steps back before maneuvering behind me.
Had I… seen these ones before?I tried to concentrate as she got closer to me, but it was hard. All I could sense was her. Her smell. Her warmth. Her gaze on me.
I still hadn’t been able to get over how she made me feel, and each moment I spent with her just seemed to exacerbate the issue.
I squinted, taking in the brown eyes again. They were warm, with flecks of darker brown in them.
I knew I had seen them before… but where? The hidden image was deep inside the recesses of my brain, trying to claw its way out.
I cocked my head to the side, trying to figure out where the hell I had seen them before. And it wasn’t once. Iknewthese eyes.
“Is the silence something I should be worried about?” Quinn asked from behind me.
Her hands were on my hips as she pulled me back against her chest. Her breath was hot on my neck, reminding me of what we had done our last night at the club.
This had been my suggestion, and now I was facing the consequences.
I didn’t know what I expected from an assassin’s house… but it sure as hell wasn’t a row of eyeballs. Serial killers took their trophies, and even though Quinn was a hired killer, that didn’t change the fact that she was just like them.
She took pleasure in it. I noticed it as she was prepping Russell’s body for dumping. Sheenjoyedevery part of it.
That should scare me. Ishouldbe scared.
“It’s Bailey, isn’t it?” I breathed, finally recognizing their owner.
I saw images of Bailey’s face close to mine, her eyes hooded with desire. It was some of the only times I was able to look at her. Other times, especially when she was angry, I would find myself averting my gaze.
A habit that shamed me as much as it angered me.
There was no doubt about it. It was hers.
I racked my brain to figure out when the last time I saw her was.
The fight.She had come into my dressing room, mad that I had yet again started performing right after figuring out that I had fucked someone shereallydidn’t want me to.
She was always doing that, barging into the dressing room or other private quarters just to pick a fight with me. I tried to understand her, but her actions reminded me too much of Russell.
I had tried to call her after, multiple times, but she never picked up. What I had assumed was her ignoring me was now turning into something more sinister. Something that caused something heavy to settle in my stomach.
“Are you scared?” she asked. “Disgusted?Angry?”
Angry? Am I?I searched deep within me, into the swirling emotions in my chest… but none of them were anger.
Bailey and I weren’t compatible, that much was clear, but I never wished for her death.
It was my fault.The words felt like a stinging slap.
“Guilt,” I said, unable to look at her. “Like maybe if I would have brushed her off sooner, you wouldn’t have had to do this.”
I hated how the words settled on my skin as soon as I spoke to them. Like a disgusting film.
I’m so tired of feeling guilty.So tired of letting the guilt of what I could have or shouldn’t have done. It started with Russell, but I wanted it to end here, With Bailey.
