Andre pulls out of me. As he draws back and gets to his feet, I curl in on myself.
I hear his zipper. I hear him making harsh sounds that he keeps cutting off. I hear him walk away.
I don’t know if I fall asleep or just into a doze, but I rouse when a dull light glows somewhere behind me. It’s a cellphone screen, I think, and it shows because night has fallen and the apartment is dark.
I thought Andre had left, but he didn’t. He’s still here.
In the silence, I hear the faint sound of ringing. He’s calling someone.
The faint ringing stops. Someone has answered.
Several long seconds pass before Andre says in a quiet, rough voice, “I need help.”
TWENTY-TWO
Andre
“Where are you?”
At the sound of Noah’s gruff voice, my thoughts try to slide sideways, but I have to talk to him.
“Home,” I answer woodenly. I’m sitting on the floor, leaning back against the island. “It’s, um, SoHo. On the harbor near—”
“You’re at your warehouse?”
That stalls me. He knows where I live. In spite of everything, he’s kept track of me.
“Yes,” I reply.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are there bodies?”
“Two.”
“Is one of them Elias?”
For some reason, I start shaking so hard that I can barely hold the phone at my ear even with my elbow resting on my drawn-up knee.
“Andre. Is one of them Elias?”
“No,” I rasp.
“Where is he?” Noah asks.
“Here.”
Noah is silent for a moment. I expect questions about Elias, but he just says, “Okay. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. I’ll have someone with me to help.”
Noah ends the call. I set the phone on the floor.
It’s too dark to see detail, but there’s enough light from beyond the high windows that I can make out Elias’s pale form. He’s still curled up on the floor. He hasn’t moved.
My eyes skip away from him. I don’t know what to do with him. I’m supposed to kill him. That’s why I brought him here.
He’s one of them.
