The scare on location was serendipitous, though.
Frankly, what I had planned was much worse.
The cat lets out a quiet meow, grabbing my attention, so I look down, and realize I’ve stopped petting her.
I resume, still watching them.
Evie snuggles closer to Chase, draping her leg over his hip. There’s not a spot on them that isn’t touching.
It’s perfect. Everything begins and ends with them.
The stage can only be set for grief once they’re in place. Hate required it. Revenge deserved it. True fear sanctified it.
Without a second thought, I place the cat down on the floor gently and stand, slowly walking toward the end of the bed.
I could take the knife in my hand and stick it in her neck, so quickly she’d never make a sound. But her eyes would open as she slowly bled out next to him and I watched.
My eyes lower as I keep my breath quiet. I have an erection.
The knife twists in my hand over and over, feeling heavy, although it’s not. It’s the burden I carry to hold to the plan. To keep them alive until it’s time.
There’s no point in killing either of them until the band’s back together.
I walk around the bed, my footsteps never making a sound, to where Evie’s facing before squatting down.
She lets out another sigh as I bring our faces so close I could almost ... I breathe her in, every inhale coming into my body, and with every exhale, I enter hers. Because I want to live inside her. Be the flesh she eats, the blood she drinks, so I can rot her from the inside until she dies.
Her breath smells like cinnamon and tickles my lips as I close my mouth, leaning in closer to let them brush hers.
“It’s time to begin our game,” I whisper so quietly she never stirs. “First one to the end of twelve days dies. Can’t wait for the opening.”
Chapter Fifteen
Evie
“Where are we going?”
Chase smiles back at me, motioning with his head for me to move faster, but I keep walking slowly, so he excitedly grabs my hand and drags me behind him down a sidewalk parallel to the beach.
“This isn’t just a taco food truck, trust me. It’s hands down some of the best Mediterranean fusion I’ve ever had.”
I huff a laugh, really looking at his face, trying to find a flaw. I can’t. It’s annoying.
“Well, that’s saying something, coming from you.”
“The woman who owns it migrated here ten years ago, leaving behind a restaurant her family owned back home in Greece. But the story is she fell in love with this very handsome Mexican dude—her words—during a visit and never went back.”
The way he’s grinning makes me do the same.
“I’ll give it to you, that’s pretty romantic.”
“Then they broke up.”
I frown. “Not so romantic.”
He winks. “Her true love is food ... so still romantic.”
He wags his brows at me, pulling me even closer so our joint hands are tucked up near his chest as I chuckle.
