“I found my girl. But I’ve got two little sisters of my own. What you’ve done is unforgivable.”
He whimpers, but can’t stop his word vomit. “I’ll add them to the top of my list.”
I slam my elbow into his temple. It takes two tries, but finally, the disgusting blob is silent.
“I wanted that hit,” Trips says.
“Too bad.”
“Should we go get cleaned up?” he asks, looking at the splattered blood on his arms.
I take the jug of bleach Jansen brought down and cover the ground with it, not too worried about Bryce’s toes or the fumes. “Yeah. Then we can load up and bring him to Jansen’s contact.”
“He asked to use Tao’s shop. A controlled fire there won’t be too far out of the ordinary.”
I nod, then lead the way up the stairs, strangely ready for what comes next.
That isn’t a man. Anyone who goes after kids loses that identifier. He’s lower than an ant. And I’ll feel the same amount of regret over ending his life as I would a mosquito.
Goodbye, Bryce Mason. The world will be better without you.
Chapter 84
Clara
Pulling on the only sweatshirt we found at the store and the flip-flops they had in my size, I gather our bloody clothes, bringing them to the fireplace. Whoever had this place before left some logs in a wooden box next to the hearth, and after finding a lighter in the toolbox in the kitchen, I get a merry fire going. Taking my time, I feed our evidence-laden clothes into the grate. The hum of Trips’ shower and the muffled movements of RJ as he tries to find something to wear above me add to the crackle of the wood, each sound smoothing out the last of my adrenaline from earlier.
The part still left after the quickie Jansen, Walker, and I had in the shower, that is.
They apparently have an unregistered car somewhere nearby, so those two went to grab it after we cleaned up. Then we can transport Bryce and ditch the car. None of itshould tie back to us. That was the one piece of this haphazard plan I hadn’t thought about, but the guys already have it covered.
Crime really is a team sport.
A single creak is all the warning I get before a folding chair flies toward my head. I duck, but it clips my skull, my poor abused head not liking the impact one bit, and the world goes unfocused for a moment. Again. And something in me snaps.
Another man, hurting me because I told him no. Willing to kill me to prove to himself that he’s more than me, better than me, worthy of whatever gold-plated shit the universe has already gifted him.
While I’m left dazed, broken underfoot with as much worth as a busted beer bottle on the sidewalk that everyone skirts around.
But I’m worth more.
My no should matter.
My safety, my life, my future—they’re mine to value. And mine to protect.
Silent but furious, I fly to my feet, tackling the inexplicably free Bryce to the ground. On his back, he chokes, his nose so broken it’s both twisted to the side and angled up, red coating his lips as he struggles to get into a position where he won’t drown in his own blood. I don’t let him move. Instead, I clutch his ears and slam his head against the floor as he scrabbles for purchase on my body. He must figure he can get free if he just tries hard enough.
I’m tougher than I look. And angrier than I ever thought I could be. I pound into him with years of terror and fury, the wrath of a broken woman finally admitting that she’sunsalvageable. Whoever I’d been when I met him, that girl is dead and buried. And he’s the one who killed her, with every snide comment and disgusted look, with every demand and critique. He cut out my innocence, my sense of self, my ability to feel anything but worry and false cheer.
Every hit he lands on me I meet with twice as many in return, each one filled with years of disgust. At myself, for who I turned into to please him. At him, for convincing me it was for the best. And at life, for making me believe that an arbitrary definition of perfection was the only way to succeed. To love and be loved.
I beat him with the fervor of an angry, broken woman finally getting her due. And when he flips us and slips free from me, I finally see what I’d been hoping for earlier. Fear.
He’s afraid of me.
Taking his chance, he dashes past RJ as he rushes down the stairs, some part of our voiceless battle making it upstairs, calling him to me. Bryce barely misses his dive, and with me right behind him, he races into the bitterly cold night.
I can’t let him get free. He needs to die.
