Nineteen
M A K O
THE SUNDAY NEWS IS on. Same old stories. Murders, kidnappings, and more depressing shit with a little dabble of inspo to keep from completely depressing the viewer.
I’m not paying a lick of attention to it. I’ve been agonizing over my case, and all I’ve accomplished is giving myself a massive fucking headache. Tomorrow, I’ll be meeting with Benedict Davis, revisiting the murder he witnessed. This is the fourth time I’ve spoken with him, and each time his story changes. He’s inconsistent and if it wasn’t for the fact that he knows certain details civilians don’t have access to, I’d chalk him up to be a liar and drop him.
Even without Benedict Davis and his shoddy story, we’re getting closer. Finding the Ghost Killer is just outside of my grasp, so close I can feel it.
My phone buzzes on the armrest next to me and startling me from gazing sightlessly into the T.V. screen. Not only am I going to be bald, but now I’m going to need bifocals by forty. I glance at it and see a number I haven’t seen pop up on my phone in months.
SERENA: I miss you, baby. It’s been awhile since you’ve visited me. Come over? I’m wearing your favorite outfit. ;)
I sigh. My favorite outfit on her was nothing. Preferably with her face stuffed in the mattress and ass high in the air. Serena always tried to wow me with frilly, lacy lingerie. I never cared for any of it when all I wanted was a quick fuck and to leave.
For some reason, she thought the lingerie would get me to stay, rather than developing some sort
of personality.
It never did.
I delete the text, and then her number, and stuff the phone in my back pocket. Serena barely held onto my attention in the first place, she has zero chance of getting even a sliver of it now.
Not when a particular woman is occupying my brain space. I knew from the moment I met River that she was going to ruin me. I just hadn’t realized it would also feel like damnation.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket again, indicating an incoming call. With a frustrated growl, I fish the phone out of my pocket and answer before looking to see who it is.
“Yeah?” I grunt.
“Hey…” a familiar, hesitant voice filters through.
“Hey, Ali,” I greet with a sigh. I don’t mind hearing from her, but I already know what this
conversation is going to center around.
“Have you heard from River?” she asks.
“No. Should I have?”
Silence.
“Ali?” I push. When she still doesn’t answer right away, fear circulates through my system and a pit forms in my stomach. Automatically, I fear the worst. It’s a feeling I’ve become quite acquainted with, though we’re definitely not on friendly fucking terms.
“I think you should talk to her,” she says finally. I don’t need to see her to know she’s biting her nails. It’s a habit Ryan beat her constantly for, before sending her to a nail salon to get acrylics.
“Is she okay, Ali? What happened?” I ask impatiently, my tone darkening. I sit up straight and shut off the news.
“N-nothing. Well… she’s okay. She’s not hurt or anything,” she rushes, stumbling over her words. My brow plummets. My anxiety switches gears. Something is going on—I just have no idea what.
“Did something happen?” I ask slowly, growing aggravated by her lack of explanation. My hand is gripping my hair, on the verge of yanking out the strands.
She sighs with frustration. “Yes, but I think you should talk to her, Mako. Okay? That’s all I’m saying.”
“Okay,” I answer right as my finger taps the red button. My impatience has crested. Being nice is the last thing on my mind when it’s too busy imagining all my nightmares coming to life. My mind whirls, considering the ramifications if I just show up at Ryan’s house. It’s late. He’ll probably freak, but I can use the excuse for needing to work on the case. I’m meeting with his witness tomorrow, and I haven’t gotten the chance to talk to Ryan about it in a few days.
Mind already made up, I grab my keys and start for the door, barely giving myself enough time to tie the laces on my boots.
I pause halfway through the door, my hand still on the handle. Maybe I should call first? I dial Ryan’s number as I shut the door behind me and get in the car. The line rings, and rings, before eventually going to voicemail. I give it one more try, despite the fact that I’m already pulling out of the driveway.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m pulling in their expansive, obnoxiously long driveway with the stupid fucking fountain in the middle. I wouldn’t be surprised if Ryan builds a monument of himself in the middle one day.
There are a few lights on in the monstrous house. Seeing this house makes my lip curl every fucking time. It’s over the top, with white sleek walls, glass and wood making up the entirety of the house. It’s modern and very fucking pretentious.
Fuck. I’m nervous. My hand is sliding through my hair, frustrated with this shit. With Ryan and the constant pain in my ass he’s been since I was adopted.
Throwing myself out of the car before I end up tearing out of the driveway, I rush up the steps and knock on the door loudly a few times. Glancing at the time on my watch, I note that it’s only eight thirty. Ryan should still be awake.
When no one answers, I knock a few more times. Sometimes I wish that he’d act like every other rich asshole and hire a butler. I give it all of five seconds before I try the door handle. Locked. There are cameras recording me right now with a feed I’m positive links to Ryan’s phone. I linger for another minute, hoping he’ll see that it’s me and open the door.
Yeah fucking right, Mako. Like that’s going to happen.
Fuck it. I’ve been to Ryan’s house only three times in my life, but it only took one time to catalog every exit point. I jog around to the back of the house. The backyard consists of an inground pool on the edge of a cliff, widening into the kitchen in an open concept. The backside of the house is all glass, the entirety of the wall capable of sliding open until the backyard and kitchen become one.
Fucking stupidest thing, if you ask me. Who the fuck is okay with just anyone being able to peer inside their house? The thought sends shivers down my spine.
Quietly creeping up to the door, I peer through the glass and listen for any sounds. Any yelling, screaming. Flesh hitting flesh. There’s only silence. No movement, either.
The glass glides open smoothly without a sound, and though it’s good for me, I still shake my head in disappointment. So stupid to leave any door unlocked. I see too many goddamn murders for this to be acceptable, and the fact that I’m breaking and entering so easily is going to earn this fucker an earful. I could be a burglar, and apparently, that’s okay with Ryan.
The white and gray kitchen is dim, casting shadows across the pristine kitchen. It’s starting to get darker earlier in the day now that fall is approaching. It’s only eight thirty, but the sun is setting. A drawer hangs at an odd angle, catching my attention. I peak in the drawer to see a bunch of knives and silverware haphazardly thrown into it.
I click on the flashlight on my phone and inspect them. None look bloody. It does little to calm my racing thoughts.
I angle the light over the shadows until I’m sure there’s not a person hiding in them. Based off the soft gleam from down the hall, there’s a lamp on in the living room. I strain my ears, listening for footsteps or voices.
“Ryan?” I call loudly, clicking off the light and stuffing the phone in my back pocket. The last thing I need is to be accused of breaking and entering by an asshole of a lawyer. Ryan would take that opportunity and eat it up like candy.
A muted voice filters through, but I can’t place where. As I’m concentrating on the muffled noise, a loud bang from upstairs draws my attention away.
I swear to fucking god, if he just hit her… My body is moving before I can think to, rushing through the kitchen and into the hallway. I nearly crash into the wall as I swing myself around the white marble staircase. Nearly tripping up the stairs, I come to a stumbling halt when River’s face comes into view. She had just done exactly what I did—almost falling in her rush to come down the stairs.
“What are you doing here?” she yells, just as I yell, “Did he fucking hurt you again?”
“What?” she asks, bewildered. We’re both immobilized on each end of the staircase, staring at each other with wild expressions.
“Is he up there? Did he hurt you?” I ask again harshly.
“No—I—he’s not here,” she stutters. The pounding in my chest slowly calms as my suspicions rise. She looks like she’s been caught with a knife over a dead body. Guilty as fuck. Home intruders don’t announce themselves. Ryan could’ve easily invited me over and not tell her. So why the fuck does she look green in the face? And why are her eyes shifting with paranoia and nerves?
“What are you doing here?” she snaps again, crossing her arms and widening her stance into a defensive position. Her chin lifts as she stares down her nose at me. Just barely do I curb the urge to question her. I am, after all, breaking into her house. She has every right to be suspicious of me.
“Ryan invited me over,” I lie, steeling my spine.
She rolls her eyes. “No, he didn’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because he’s not even here,” she repeats. In that moment, another muffled voice sounds from somewhere. I cock my head, trying to place it.
Noticing my attention is averted, she barrels down the stairs and throws herself on me, cinnamon enveloping all my senses. Stumbling backwards, I grapple with her body and the railing to keep from
falling backwards. What the fuck?
“You scared me,” she says breathily. “But I’m glad you’re here now. Can I come over?”
The look on my face could only be described as utterly baffled.
“What the hell are you hiding, River?” I accuse harshly. She tenses in my arms, and immediately pushes me away and then walks past me as if she didn’t just dramatically throw herself at me.
This woman is a fucking… I don’t even know what the hell.
“Get out,” she orders stoically, all emotion from her voice gone.
Crossing my arms, I widen my stance and cock a brow, letting her know I’m not going anywhere.
There’s a muffled voice somewhere in the house that sounds like they’re yelling, Ryan’s mysteriously gone, and River is acting like she’s hiding something. She’s fidgety and if I didn’t know any better, River is lying. Terribly, at that.
Subtly, I catalog every single detail. Shifty eyes, trembling hands, restless feet and a small splatter of blood on her neck. The smell of some type of cleaning solution filters through my nose, overpowering her sweet cinnamon scent.
“You know you can tell me,” I assure gently, attempting to soften my trembling voice. She did something. She did something very bad.
She snorts. “I can tell a cop anything? Get real, Mako,” she replies, her tone dripping with poison and condescension.
“I’ve already crossed a few lines for you, River.”
“You’re saying you’re dirty?” she challenges.
“Are you saying you’re going to give me a reason to be?” I shoot back. Her lips tighten into a thin line. That would be a huge fucking resounding yes. I drop my head back and heave out a harsh breath. “Tell me, River. I swear I will not arrest you or get you in any kind of trouble. You can trust me.”
When I lift my head back to her, she’s chewing on her bottom lip and looking at me as if she can’t decide if I’m Robin Hood or the big bad wolf. I’m not really sure which I am, either. Depends who’s asking.
“Alison and I had sex,” she blurts. The spit I was swallowing at a very untimely moment lodges in my throat. I choke, coughing harshly as I try not to die before her feet. The evil little sprite would probably enjoy it, too.
The gears in my brain are turning too quickly. The little dude manning my brain is desperately trying to reign them in as I try to process what the hell she just said. She smiles at my reaction, while I feel my face go red. “Are you blushing?” she teases.
“No. Fuck. Yes. What the fuck? Did you really?” I ask harshly, mostly because I’m actively trying to keep my dick from getting rock hard, which is a really big fucking feat when I can’t get the image out of my head.
She nods, and then shrugs indifferently. “Not because we’re like, into each other or anything. I think… we just needed it, you know?”
Weirdly, I do. I get it. Her face is arranged into a blank mask, but something tells me she’s waiting for me to get mad. She expects it actually. But how can I be mad at someone for trying to heal? As much as it pains me some days, River’s body doesn’t belong to me. She can fuck whoever she wants, and I have no say in it. While I’d love nothing more than to have the privilege, I’m not going to hold anything against her when she gives that gift to someone else.
Her lioness eyes study me closely. She’s still guarded and on edge, but yet staring at me with tentative hope that I’ve been completely distracted. It almost worked for a second, but I wouldn’t be
where I am today if I let the obvious slip past me.
I allow a slow nod. “But that’s not what you need to tell me, River.”
Her shoulders drop in defeat, disappointed her little distraction tactic didn’t work.
Later, I’ll be revisiting that confession. Thoroughly.
“Ryan’s upstairs. In the attic.” She pauses, seemingly contemplating what else to tell me. I don’t tell her I’ll force my way into the attic regardless of what story she spins. I’m fully expecting her to lie to me.
“I’m torturing him,” she confesses softly.
This time, I was smart enough not to be swallowing, or else I would’ve choked again. The last fucking thing I was expecting to come out of her mouth was the truth. Was she saying it for shock value, expecting me to think she’s lying because the premise is so outrageous? It’s possible she expected me to laugh, roll my eyes, and brush it off as a joke.
As much as it pains me, I had already started putting that together, each puzzle piece sliding into place. Ryan’s absence, the muffled voice yelling for what sounded like help, River’s clear paranoia… and the blood and smell of cleaning solution.
“River,” I groan, rubbing my hand down my face.
“What?” she snaps, giving up all pretense and becoming defensive once again. “He deserves it!”
“It’s not that he doesn’t, River. But have you actually thought this through? What the fuck are you going to do when people come looking for him? When our parents come looking for him? If he doesn’t show up for work tomorrow morning, people are going to question why. Have you considered the fact that you’re going to be the number one suspect?”
Her face increasingly grows pale as I bombard her with very valid questions. Ryan’s too important of a guy for people not to notice him missing.
This time when her shoulders deflate, it’s with resignation.
“I have. I’m just not sure what to say yet.”
Heaving out another sigh, I look in the direction of the staircase. “I’m going up there.”
She takes a step toward me, her eyes bulging. “You can’t let him go, Mako,” she says hurriedly, her eyes turned feral with desperation.
“I’m not. I promise. But I need to see what you got us into,” I explain soothingly, resting my hand on her elbow to help calm her. Her brow dips and she shoots me a nasty look.
“I didn’t get you into anything, Mako.”
I give her a sardonic smile. “We’re in this together, baby.”
“WELL YOU LOOK LIKE a large pile of dogshit,” I comment, my clinical tone matching my face as I examine Ryan’s body.
“Fuck you,” he spits darkly. For the first time in my life, Ryan was happy to see me when I
walked in. That quickly went to shit when I smiled at him, teeth and all.
He’s a goddamn bloodied mess. The only thing on his cut up and bruised body is a pair of soiled boxer briefs. Fuck, he smells like shit, too. Wrinkling my nose, I circle around him, noting all his wounds.
Looks like she used something fine and sharp to cut him, like a box cutter. The cuts aren’t too deep, some of them needing stitches, especially the large slash across his chest. His entire torso is mottled with bruises—most still a dark purple. He hasn’t been up here long enough for any of them to turn yellow and green.
His foot looks like it’s set in an unnatural angle, though I don’t see bone poking through. Two of his fingers on his left hand are definitely broken, completely bent at odd angles with bone sticking out.
I smile when I realize it’s the same two fingers River had broken—one of them Ryan’s doing. Pinky
and pointer finger.
That’s my girl.
I glance at her hand, noting her casted pointer finger and then drag my eyes up to the rest of her. It looks like she’s just stepped out of a boxing ring. She has fresh bruises on her arms and around her neck, a cut on her brow and a fat lip. All at the hands of someone who claimed to love her. Her ribs and concussion are healed by now, but the lingering effects in her mind will never disappear.
This woman has gone through more shit than most can even handle in their lifetime. And she’s gone through it her entire life. I don’t think I’ve met someone so resilient. So strong. What she’s doing to Ryan… it’s fucking insane. Certifiably insane. But considering what she’s been through, fuck, I can’t blame her. I can’t fault her for finally snapping.
“Please, Mako. You’re a cop. You’re a good cop. Don’t let this bitch get away with this shit.
Please, let me go,” he pleads, his voice cracking at the end.
This is the first time I’ve ever seen Ryan scared. Vulnerable. He’s always played this tough guy act, even when he was ten and I was thirteen, newly adopted into the family. It was like he felt he had to prove himself when I came in the picture. Mommy and daddy decided to have another son, so he thought he wasn’t good enough for them. The guy was a fucking selfish narcissist since birth. There’s no changing him. No saving him.
“Why should I help you? You’ve done nothing but go out of your way to make my life miserable since I came into the picture,” I say, posting up behind him where he can’t see me. He attempts to turn his head to look at me, but his binds won’t allow him much leeway.
“You never belonged, Mako.”
River steps forward, her brow pinched with anger. “All this time, I thought you hated him because he did something to you. Why would you make me—anyone—believe that?”
Ryan laughs humorlessly. “Does it fucking matter? He’s my brother,” he spits the word with disdain.
“Am I?” I question with mirth, chuckling when he tries to swing his heated glare to me. Doesn’t work very well. Such an angry soul, and for what? To end up tied up and tortured because he can’t help being a shitty human? And then to have the brother he bullied mercilessly refuse to help because of his actions.
Ryan is getting well acquainted with Karma, and goddamn, is she a bitch.
I come around to face him once more and crouch down, the smile never leaving my face as I say, “Never treated me like one. I was excited to get a brother when our parents adopted me. But you always took it as an insult.”
“Because it was!” he shouts, shaking in his binds. “They were never going to have another kid.
They said I was enough for them. We were perfectly fucking happy without you, but then Dad handled your father’s murder case and he just had to grow a soft spot for you. He just couldn’t let you stay in the system like every other fucking kid in this country. What’s so special about you, huh? You’re a mediocre detective that can’t even figure out who the Ghost Killer is. You’re not good enough for us.”
His words bounce off me like rubber on wood. I can’t be hurt by someone that I never truly cared about. I tried at one point. I tried so hard to build a relationship with him, create an unbreakable bond between brothers.
But he just wanted to hate me. It didn’t take long before I stopped caring enough to stop him. He tortured me, hurt me and made my childhood miserable.
He didn’t want me as brother before, he’s certainly not going to fucking get one now.
“I HAVE A CONFESSION,” River blurts. I stare at her, filled with trepidation and unease. I can’t take anymore confessions from her. I’ve had enough to last several fucking lifetimes— that’s if I’m not burning in hell for what we’re doing. We’re in the living room, sitting on the same couch that River was stuck on not so long ago, humiliated with tears streaking down her face. When this is all over, I’m going to burn this fucking couch.
“Matt raped Ryan,” she forges on, before I can voice any protests.
My world stops on its axis, causing everything to come to a crashing halt. There’s no fucking way I heard that right. There’s just no way she said… No. No, no, no. No way.
“The fuck did you just say?” I ask darkly. She heaves a weighted sigh. Her face is pinched with regret. Her blood-stained fingers fidget, her stare pinned to the twirling digits. She can’t even look at me.
Matt saved me. He’s my father. I love him. And that’s being ripped away from me right now.
“Ryan told me. I asked him why he turned out the way he did when he has everything in life. And Mako… I don’t think he was lying. It really didn’t feel like he was.”
I rub a shaking hand fiercely down my face, trying to rub away the words she’s spoken. My hand glides into his hair and grips tightly. My chest tightens painfully, making it hard to breathe. My vision swims and it takes everything in me to hold onto reality. I’m losing my shit. I’m losing a lot more than that.
“I’m really sorry, Mako,” she whispers. I nod my head distractedly, not really hearing her. It feels like water is rushing through my ears, drowning more softly spoken apologies that don’t mean shit right now. It’s not River’s fault, but I almost hate her for telling me. Now I have to live with this
new reality.
My father is a fucking rapist.
He never laid a hand on me. Never gave any indication he felt that way towards me. A slew of memories flash through my mind. How much Ryan hated me. The world. How angry he was. And how anytime Dad would try to hug Ryan, or show any affection, Ryan rejected it like he was being stung by
a nest of hornets. Little things that never made sense are adding up.
I close my eyes.
I guess I’m not as good at putting together puzzle pieces like I had thought. My brother was the biggest piece of all, right in my face. And I never suspected a thing. Guilt assuages me.
“Let’s focus on the matter at hand right now. I—I’ll worry about that later,” I rasp.
River bites her lip and nods her head, reluctantly agreeing.
“Ryan’s cheating on you,” I start.
Disdain crosses her face as she asks harshly, “You knew?”
I couldn’t keep the guilt off my face if I tried. Telling her Ryan’s cheating on her wasn’t said as a confession, but as the beginning of the story we’re going to spin, but she caught me before I could finish.
“You didn’t tell me?” she accuses, her eyes flaring with fury. Her cheeks flush strawberry red, and all I can manage is flapping my mouth like a fucking fish, at a loss of what to say.
“It wasn’t my place, River. I thought the hitting part was a little more concerning than Ryan being a player,” I defend.
“When?” she demands sharply. “How long ago did you find out?”
“I saw him cheating not too long after you met our parents,” I confess on a weighted sigh. This is not where I was trying to go with this, but I won’t lie to her, either. “But River… he’s always cheated, and I don’t mean with just you. He gave Alison chlamydia after a couple years together. I should’ve told you, but like I said, I was more concerned about your safety.”
She looks away, hurt radiating in her eyes. It bothers me that I caused that.
“So, why tell me now?” she asks, her tone having dropped several degrees and is now ice cold.
I scratch the back of my head, a sheepish look on my face. “I wasn’t, really. I was trying to get our story together, and Ryan being a cheater is going to play a big role in our cover up.”
This time when her cheeks turn red, it’s from embarrassment.
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry, River,” I start, feeling worse by the second that I didn’t tell her the truth about Ryan cheating from the beginning.
“That was what made me want to leave him,” she says abruptly, glancing at me sideways. “Just like every cliché, I found lipstick on his collar and it smelled like perfume. He had tried to wash it off. Realizing that he was fucking someone else is what finally made me want to leave.”
I’m not sure if she’s telling me this to make me feel worse, but it fucking works. My head thumps against the back of the couch and I sigh with defeat. If I would’ve told her sooner… maybe she wouldn’t have felt like she had to do what she did. She would already be gone, living her life away from him. But Ryan would still be here, already searching for his next victim.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat.
“So, this cover up story?” she prompts, swiftly changing the subject.
Reluctantly, I allow it. “He said he had a work-related trip next town over. That was the last you’ve seen of him.”
She nods her head once. “What happens when they figure out he didn’t?”
“That’s where his cheating comes in. He could’ve easily left to see another woman. You’re none the wiser of his cheating ways, and completely believed him when he said he had to leave for work.
If you know he’s cheating, that’s motive. If you fought and he stormed out on you, that makes you look guilty. As far as you’re concerned, you two were a happy little couple with no problems.”
“Okay,” she agrees. I shake my head, already feeling a weight slamming down on top of the other
fifty pounds on my shoulders.
“He was leaving to meet with his mistress. The Ghost Killer got to him first.”
River stills, her entire body becoming stone. It reminds me of her reaction when I first told her about the Ghost Killer, the day I came over to hash out the case with Ryan and ended up eating meatloaf.
My mother used to make me meatloaf. She cooked it horribly, but it was the only thing she knew how to make really. That’s all I ate for twelve years. I haven’t been able to eat it since. Of course, my asshole of a brother knew that and decided to shove it right back into my face.
“How did you get that idea?” she asks softly, bringing my attention back to her. I’m not sure what it is exactly about the Ghost Killer that makes her uneasy, but I can’t exactly blame her. His reputation has gained enough attention now that it’s national news. Being in the same town with a serial killer would make anyone uncomfortable.
“Friday morning, Ryan called me and said he knew who the Ghost Killer is and already built his case against him. He claimed he found evidence and would have the killer in jail by Monday. He didn’t share what the information was, but he was confident he caught him. He spent ten minutes rubbing in my face that he figured out who the Ghost Killer was before I did.”
River’s face pales, her frown deepening as I share something I can’t help but be ashamed about.
That my brother caught the Ghost Killer before I did. He knew, and the only way I can think of is because he was doing something seedy. The Ghost Killer has law enforcement and lawyers in his pocket. I just don’t think anyone ever knew his face until Ryan.
The memory of that phone call pisses me off all over again. The second Ryan hung up the phone, I nearly broke my knuckles on the metal table in the interrogation room. I wanted the Ghost Killer found, no matter what the cost was, but fuck if it didn’t sting that Ryan was the one to solve the case.
His confidence was so unwavering that I believed him.
“We’re going to spin it to where the Ghost Killer knew Ryan had evidence against him and got rid of him,” I continue.
River shifts, curling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them tightly. She rests her chin on her knees and stares at me with sadness.
“We’ll get him to talk,” she assures softly.
I shake my head, sliding my hand through my hair. I’m not holding out hope that Ryan will talk. If I know anything about my brother, it’s that he’s a hateful, evil person. Not telling me who the man is that I’ve been chasing for a year now will be his only victory.
I go over the rest of the plan with her, making sure she understands the part she’s going to have to play really soon. As much as it kills me, River can never be seen as the abused girlfriend, at least not until there’s a sufficient amount of evidence to show the Ghost Killer got to Ryan. Anything to keep the motive off of River is top priority right now, even if it means Ryan’s golden boy reputation won’t burn in flames with him.
“He needs to disappear, River,” I say hesitantly. She knows exactly what I mean.
She nods her head, not looking the least bit perturbed by murdering him. Something doesn’t sit
right with allowing her to.
“I don’t think I can let you do it.”
Her head snaps towards me.
“The fuck you can’t. This is for me. Don’t you dare come storming in acting like my knight.
When are you going to realize I don’t need you to save me?” she grits through her teeth, her eyes sharp with anger.
“You’re right. You don’t need me to save you. But if I can help save you from going down that hole, then I will.”
She shakes her head, staring off into the distance. She’s supposed to expect him home tonight, according to our made-up story. When he doesn’t come home, she’s going to call my parents, asking if they’ve heard from him.
They’ll assure her he’s fine, just probably running late. She’ll go to bed worried. Come morning when he’s still not home, she’ll report him missing. That’s when shit is going to get real. Really fucking real.
Anxiety filter through my nerves. My arms twitch as my adrenaline pulsates. I’ll do everything in my power to keep the scrutiny away from River. I’ll become fucking mud for this girl. And fuck, I won’t regret a goddamn second of it. Not when this girl has me trapped in her dark little spell.
After this is all said and done, I’m still determined to show her what a real relationship looks like. I’m not even worried if she wants me back. I know she does.
“This is my kill, Mako,” she says softly, tuning me back into the conversation. “I got myself— you—into this. And I will be the one to take him out.”
“Tonight?”
“Tonight.”
