Kitty wouldn’t run off like that.
She wasn’t that type of woman.
She’d have bit my fucking chin. Again.
She’d have slapped me.
She’d have demanded to know who I’d murdered.
She didn’t shy away from this stuff.
She wouldn’t ghost me.
She wouldn’t.
I gave it one last shot. Hope and prayers and faith coagulated before this whole mess with the commissioner went down.
I hit ‘connect’ on her contact name.
Nothing.
No answer.
The call rang off.
My gut twisted.
My heart twinged.
My eyes fuckingburned.
Then, my phone pinged.
Her name appeared in my notifications.
Kitty: You took one of my girls.
“Luc,” I rambled, opening the message so fast I nearly broke the case with the ferocity of my grip.
“What?”
“She messaged!”
I swallowed. That pit of despair opened wider as I read that first line of text over and over and over again.
Kitty: Only fair that I take one of yours.
But that was nothing to the third and final message.
*Kitty sent a picture*
“Gésu mia misericordia,” Luciu bit off.
But there was no mercy that the Lord would bestow upon me.
Not with as many sins that could be laid at my feet.
Maybe, in truth,thiswas my penance served in the flesh.
