Maybe never.
The wind picks up, cold and sharp. I can’t move. Every instinct screams at me to back away, but my legs refuse.
My mind flashes to that email.
I can show you.
Show me what? A firsthand account of Dylan’s final moments? Is this what the stranger wanted? Did they know I’d be Isaac’s next victim? Or…what if itwasIsaac who sent thoseemails? What if he was luring me here? What if this was his plan all—
“Jackson.”
He says my name like an angry snarl, and something in me flinches, the sound dragging my voice out of me before my mind can catch up.
“I-I got lost,” I lie, too quickly.
He doesn’t believe me. I can see it in the tilt of his head, the way his gaze narrows. His shoes scrape the asphalt as he takes another step forward. I take one back again, and my heel skids across gravel, sending a flash of panic through me when I realize he’s standing at the edge of the bridge now.
How many steps did I miss him take while my thoughts were spiraling when I probably should’ve been planning my escape instead?
Standing here beneath the bruised sky, with the dark water raging below and Isaac’s shadow closing the space between us, I realize…I don’t know if I’m looking at the man I want or the man I should’ve been afraid of all along.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
It sounds like a warning and a verdict all at once.
The wind whistles over the bridge. My own personal death knell.
“But since you are here,” he says as he takes one more step. This time, I’m too frozen to mirror it. His voice drops even lower with his next words. “Ask what you want to ask.”
There’sthe warning.
I ignore it. I ignore the fear and danger. I’m already here, so I may as well try to find out the truth before I hammer the final nail into my own coffin.
“Wh-what happened here?”
“You mean is this where I killed Dylan?” There’s still that fury in his eyes as his lips slant into a chilling smirk. “Is thatwhat they’re saying now? That I threw him off this bridge? That’s a new one, isn’t it?”
“Did you?” I ask, my voice so small I’m surprised he hears me.
His smirk falters, and something else flickers across his face. Or a lot of somethings.
Rage, hurt, exhaustion.
Betrayal.
All of it collides at once, too fast, too heavy. His breath leaves him in a ragged exhale, and I realize it isn’tmyquestion that finally does it. It’s every question he’s ever been asked about Dylan. Every rumor. Every lie. Every whisperedkillerhe’s had to bite down and swallow.
The weight of those thousand accusations press down on him in this single moment, collapsing his restraint.
His eyes go flat, and that’s when I know he’s done holding himself together.
The snap is silent, but I feel it.
“Shall we both see if I have it in me?”
By the time I realize he’s only a few feet away, it’s too late.
I try to move away, to flee, but my legs are too heavy. He reaches me easily, his hand shooting out to grab me by the back of the neck. His grip is harsh, punishing, making me wince. I try to fight him off, but it’s like my movements are in slow motion.
