“Matthew?” Megan says his name like it’s a question, her brows furrowed. I had almost forgotten she was beside me, lost to the daydream of how easily it would be to slip my blade into his neck if I wasn’t tied up in this chair like a snared rabbit. “Was there ever a Mateo?”
My heart breaks for Megan as the question passes her trembling lips. She had fallen so hard for this man that she would rather believe he’s having some out-of-body experience, and the guy she has grown to love will laugh and tell her it’s all one big joke.
But life is cruel.
She begins to sob, her eyes red and watery as she fights back the tears. “Was any of it real?”
I watch his expression soften as though he’s trying to find the right words to spare her feelings. I quickly realise he’s just toying with her. Sparing any of us a kindness is the last thing on his mind. He lowers to her eye level, preening when she sucks in a jittery breath. Leaning forward, he kisses her softly, the connection with her shaking lips brief. Pulling back, he silently commands her gaze to find his as he responds.
“No,” he says simply, pushing his lower lip out in a pout as Megan loses her battle and starts to sob.
He leans back in, his lips caressing her ear closest to me so I won’t miss what he has to say.
“Fucking with you was fun. But now you’re useless to me.”
I hear the squelch of punctured skin and the grinding scrape of steel on bone before I’ve registered what he’s done. Megan gulps, whatever words are ready to break free lost on the haggard inhale. Her brows pinch as she winces in pain, glancing down hesitantly at the blade handle protruding from her side. Little gasps of air fall from her lips, a single tear running down over her cheek and mixing with the blood now coating her lips. Her skin visibly paler, her face blank, she implores him silently for an explanation. But any of the light she once saw in him has been extinguished, and what remains is a dark, hollow reminder that she gave herself so freely to a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Megan!” I cry out, my first genuine show of emotion, as though I have the power to rewind time and make this whole shit show less of a reality. Fighting against my restraints, the rope tears into my reddened skin. The friction-burn sears like fire as I thrash helplessly to get free.Our gazes meet, her glassy eyes losing their shine as her lids grow heavy.
“It’s okay,” she chokes out, trying to soothe me. It just makes me fight harder against my restraints as unbidden tears streak my sore cheeks.
“Stay with me. You can do it. Please, Megan. Please,” I beg, stretching my body to its limits so I can lean over and rest my forehead against hers. “Stay awake, Megan.” I order.
I watch with bated breath as her head falls forward, her eyes closing for the final time. Her chin resting against her chest as all her weight pulls forward on her wrists as the last vestiges of life leak from her body.
“Please?” I don’t know where my cries for help are directed, but it’s clear they’ll remain unanswered. My restless fingers itch to soothe her pain, to fix her, to hold her and tell her everything is going to be okay. Even though I know it’s a lie.
“I’m sorry.” The pitiful broken sound is hollow. It’s not enough.
“Dove. DOVE,” Caleb is the first to break the silence, but I don’t look his way.
“Why?” I growl out, my teeth gnashing together as Matthew turns, his back to me as he fiddles with the radio on the table. It splutters to life, and he scrolls through the buzz of static as he finds a station he likes. Seemingly unfazed by the callous murder he committed moments ago, his girlfriend who he professed to love is bleeding out internally as the life drains from her body beside me, and this fucker wants to play DJ.
Happy with his selection, he spins theatrically on hisheels to face me. Ignoring the guys’ threats as they continue to try and escape their bindings to get to him. Everything beyond the bubble of him and I feels too distant to comprehend.
“Why?” he mocks, throwing my question back at me finally. “Why not? She was a means to an end.”
“That end being me?” I snap back, my chest hollowing out at the realisation that my best friend is dead because of me.
“Glad to know you’re all caught up.” He winks, dusting off his hands against his jeans leg, moving to fuss with the collar of his pristinely pressed sky-blue shirt decorated with a splash of Megans’s blood. This immaculate persona was a disguise, and I fell for it; we all fell for it. But now it’s impossible for him to hide the depravity that lingers beneath his surface. He’s a monster hiding in plain sight. I see him for what he truly is, what he’s always been.
“You won’t get away with this—if it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make you pay.”
A cruel snickering laugh rumbles out of Matthew as he taunts Cooper. He doesn’t hesitate to backhand me around the face again—a tried and tested tactic that proves to rile up the boys, his way of telling them that he can in fact get away with whatever he likes as they hang there with a hangman’s noose snuggly wound around their necks. Dipping down to my level, he cups my face with a misplaced show of affection. I feel dirty as the scrape of his nails against my jaw have me turning to sever the connection. His words barely register, white spots dancing in my vision as I try to latch onto his voice to centre myself.
“Do you know how many nights I have crept into your room to watch you sleep? I like you compliant.”
“I’m gonna say what everyone else is thinking. I think you might have issues, Matthew, the kind that only top-shelf meds or a lobotomy can sort out. Throwing yourself off a bridge is also an option I think everyone here could get on board with.” I chew on my lip, that anger rising in my chest again at the thought of him so close when I was at my most vulnerable.
“You itching to carve me up, little Ebbie?” He pulls my knife out of my sock and retracts the blade. Snapping it from its casing, he throws it over his shoulder. “I carry you with me always.” Tugging up his shirt, I see the poorly healed scar, a gift I’d given him the night of my fifteenth birthday when he’d tried to wrestle me up against a tree in the forest behind my foster home. He got a beating from Nathaniel and six stitches; I never left home without my blade again. We all learned lessons that day.
A tear escapes as I swallow hard.
“Are you weeping over your blade right now, Dove?” Coop chuckles weakly.
“Maybe.” I grimace.
“Let’s get out of here, and I’ll buy you ten new knives—you can play pin the tail on that dickbag until he’s bled dry.”
