Nate.
The limp heap of him lies on the cold floor, wrists raw from rope, face a map of bruises I put there. I’ve kept him here for two days—snatched him the moment he set foot in the city. Hauled him into the dungeon and made him my outlet, every strike, every blow, every ounce of my rage finding its way into him.
Because I’ve been drowning in it ever since I saw Lucas in that hospital bed, begging Tyler to take him home. Saying he didn’t want to see me.
I’ve never had my heart broken before. I didn’t even think I could. But that day, it felt like something inside me cracked and kept cracking.
Still… that wasn’t the worst.
The worst was that moment in my study, when I walked in and found him holding that camera, and saw the color drain from his face. Shock, pure and sharp, tightened his features. The way he trembled and collapsed in my arms.
That image hasn’t left me.
It probably never will.
Fuck.
I need another cigarette.
“How is he?” Anton’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts. I know exactly who he means.
Lucas.
I drag in a deep breath, running both hands through my hair until my scalp aches. I don’t answer. Truth is, I don’t have an answer. Not one that makes sense. Not one that doesn’t tear me apart.
“How are you?” he asks instead.
I shut my eyes and bite down until my jaw threatens to crack. There’s a long, heavy silence before I hear him sigh.
“Mom’s worried about you,” he says finally. “She’s also worried about Lucas. She told me if she doesn’t hear from either of you by tomorrow, she’s cutting her vacation short and flying back.”
I let the words settle in my head, but they don’t really stick. They just drift around, meaningless compared to the weight inside my chest.
“I feel dead inside,” I tell him, my voice flat but breaking somewhere underneath. “And I fucking miss him. I don’t know if he doesn’t want to see me because I know what happened to him, or because I killed those guys. But I don’t regret it. I’d do it again—over and over. That’s why this piece of shit is here.”
Anton studies me for a long moment, his gaze heavy but unreadable.
“Was it really that bad?” he asks quietly. “What they did to him”
My eyes cut to Nate’s limp body. My chest tightens until breathing feels like swallowing glass.
“Really fucking bad,” I say, each word rough and deliberate. “So fucking cruel, I can’t get it out of my head most Times. I wonder how he did it, how he went through all that and still didn’t go to therapy or get the help he needed.”
Anton nods slowly, giving me a look that’s meant to be comforting. Then he stands and clasps my shoulder, his grip solid.
“You always have your reasons to kill, Sasha. So I know this is important to you. The case will be closed soon. No way the police will connect it to us, but still, I want it wrapped up. I’ve got people working to make sure it is.”
I give him a short nod, but my fists curl until my knuckles ache. The rage inside me is still too loud, too restless. I can feel it coiling, hungry.
I turn my eyes back to Nate.
I’m going to wake him up.
And then I’m going to make him scream. Again.
***
The shower is scalding cold, and I welcome it. The shock of it cuts into my skin, numbing and sharp, almost soothing. An ice bath would’ve done just as well, but I don’t have the time. I need to get back to Lucas, back to sitting in my car in front of his building like some creep, or back to that fucking motel that’s already making me lose my mind.
