Jesus, he has Cora.
But surely I’m wrong.
How could he have her?
She was safe and sound when I left her.
“Be a man and stop hiding, Rylas,” I call out.
“A man? I am a fucking man. More of a man than you’ll ever be,” he screams, and even though it echoes through the trees, I turn to my right because I know that’s the direction it’s coming from.
Heading that way, I loudly taunt, “Is that why you’re out here? Because you’re such a man that you can’t deal with your own problems, and instead, you have to bring others down with you?”
“Don’t you dare try to use your therapist shit on me, Arlo. I’m smarter than that.”
The sound of his voice makes me realize I’m getting closer. I wrap my beads tightly around my hand, my boots splashing in puddles of mud as I stalk closer to where I know he will be.
“I think you need to see one. A therapist, that is,” I say, knowing he’ll take the bait.
Rylas hates having his judgment questioned. He thinks he’s smart and doesn’t need help in any way. He has his life together, at least according to him.
Yeah, that’s not true in the slightest.
“Fuck you, Arlo! How about you listen to this?”
And that’s when a woman screams. While her screams of pleasure sound different, I know it’s Cora. Quickly reaching into my pocket, I dial her number.
“Answer,” I grumble. But it just continues to ring.
“You see, Arlo, sometimes people like us need nontraditional types of therapy. I’m already starting to feel better.”
Goddammit! I can hear the smile in his voice.
He will fucking die.
And I won’t make it quick.
FORTY-ONE
CORA
“You can scream as loud as you want,” he says, plunging the knife into my arm.
The pain is instant, white-hot, and blinding. I collapse onto the cold, wet ground, my hands sinking into the mud as my body trembles, filthy and shaking.
The blade stays lodged in my flesh, a burning anchor of agony. I bite down hard, trying to choke back the scream, but it rips from my throat anyway. Tears blur my vision, and a wave of dizziness crashes over me, the world tilting as darkness creeps at the edge of my mind.
“Arlo had a scrape like this once. Did he ever mention it to you? They thought it was a good idea to bring Lilith out here. What they didn’t expect was for that crazy bitch to make it out alive. But we won’t have that problem tonight, sweetheart.”
He pulls the knife from my flesh, and anger shoots through me at the use of that name. I knew I hated it for a reason. Rylas then picks up a mask just like the one I found in Arlo’s room and places it over my face. Then he taps the top of my head.
“Don’t remove it, or I’ll have to color your other arm red as well.” He smiles before he stands.
I can’t look to my right. Because what I see when I do makes me want to scream. And when I scream, he hurts me.
But despite that, I shoot a quick glance that way. Is she breathing? My eyes frantically scan her for blood or injuries. Her brown hair, which she was so sad about losing during her chemotherapy treatments, blends in with the dirt and decaying leaves as if she’s meant to be there.
She isn’t.
