I amhis obsession.
But then again…
The temptation of him is overwhelming.
He needs help. And if I’m the reason he’s falling apart, then maybe—just maybe—I am the only one who can put him back together.
“Dee, do you want me to bring Colt in here so you can talk privately?” Johnny asks.
Oh shit!Instantly, I start to panic.
“No, I don’t think I can do this alone. I’ll come to the penthouse if that’s okay?”
“Whatever you want to do is fine by us. We’ll be here no matter what.”
Anna stands. “Just let us know when you’re ready.”
I want to say, “Never,” but that’s not what this is about. And even though I want to run and hide and pretend it’ll all go away, I know that’s not the answer. This is one of those scenarios that is best handled like a Band-Aid. You have to rip it off and get it over and done with.
I stand and straighten my clothes. “Right! Let’s do this.”
We walk slowly to the penthouse suite. My breathing is rapid and shallow when I reach the door. I stop and stare at it for what seems like an eternity until Johnny touches my shoulder, bringing me back to the here and now. “You can do this, Dee. I believe in you,” Johnny murmurs, his voice steady as he presses the key card to the reader.
The lock clicks. The door swings open.
And my stomach immediately revolts.
A wave of nausea slams into me, so intense I have to grip the doorframe. I want to throw up.Everywhere. Like a possessed Regan fromThe Exorcist, head spinning, projectile vomit, and all. The stench of stale booze, cigarette smoke, and somethingbitter—chemical, wrong—chokes the air.
Bodies are scattered across every available surface, passed out, twisted in unnatural positions. The floor is a wasteland. Bottles. Shattered glass. Burned-out cigarette butts. Tiny plasticbaggies—dozens of them, ripped open, used, discarded like trash.
I swallow back bile as we walk inside, moving carefully, stepping over limbs, over people who look barely alive.
This is worse than I imagined.So much worse.
Johnny exhales sharply, then jerks his chin toward a room at the back.
I don’t ask.
I already know… Colt is in there.
Waiting.
Or worse…notwaiting at all.
What the hell is in there?
My pulse pounds in my ears, so loud it drowns out everything else.
I’m scared of what I might see.
Terrified.
I wouldn’t call myself religious, but right now, I’m praying like hell that Jessi isn’t in there with him. Because if she is, I might not make it out of this room in one piece, so I hold my breath as Johnny nudges the door open.
It creeps, agonizingly slow, like a horror movie, just before the monster is revealed.
And then—
