Scrambling to my feet, I shove past them. “Fuck off,” I sniff, rubbing my eyes hard. “Um, just… give me a… minute.”
I rush to the nearest bathroom.
And I heave and scream until my lungs give out.
A few hours later, I’ve managed to compose myself enough to speak to Emilio—one of my lieutenants—and then his friend who runs for us in Atlanta. He’s been attempting to gather information on the Alvarez twins down there; the ones we previously weren’t sure weremyAlvarez twins. Arturo and Acacia’s kids.
Avianna and… Angel.
Pajarito.
Dios, my chest is caving in.
All these years, and I’ve never been able to track down Avianna. After I shut down the trafficking business, she sort of vanished. I always sort of assumed it meant she was dead, but we searched high and low for any record and could never find it.
Angelito, however, was obviously a different story.
I brought him to tears with my hands and my tongue, and my words. It was fuckingrapture, followed by four years of chasing a ghost. Praying to every force of evil that I would someday get himback.
I’m unsure whether I could go on another killing spree, or sink down into the dirt and decompose.
All I know for sure is that I need thisTrevel Fenwick. I need him here,now.
I need to make him pay for taking my pajarito from me.
Throughout my meeting with Dr. Love, I’m barely aware of what I’m saying. I can’t feel myself producing words. I know my mouth is moving. IthinkI can hear myself… But it’s all just… noise.
Whileinside, I’m still screaming.
I should have kept him the last time… I should have caged him when I had the chance.
Why did I let him go??
Whether I understood it or not, I could have at least grabbed on and fucking squeezed, like I did with Jonathan.
Yes, he fucking hates me now, but Angelito hasalwayshated me.
At least I could have had himhere.
Love doesn’t seem too keen on leaving, which is puzzling. After that session with Felix today, I thought he’d be a bit more eager for some space.
Either way, it doesn’t matter. He will go, meet with the doctor who replaced him as Trevel’s psychiatrist, find the murdering British fuckface, andbring him to me. Leave The Carver where he belongs, in a goddamn straitjacket being examined by sadistic doctors.
He eventually does leave, begrudgingly, and I immediately call Johansson.
“Dr. Love is gone,” I tell him. “I’ll need you and the team to take over with Darcey.”
He’s momentarily quiet. “Gone…?”
“Indefinitely,” I hum, pulling the knife out of my pocket. Whipping it open, I run the blade along my fingers, jaw clenching so tight with rage for this Trevel Fenwick puta, that I’m bleeding without even realizing it. “Start now. In fact, go find The Carver and bring him to me. I want to be the one to break the news about Lemuel.”
My lips curve. Delighting in the pain of others is all I have left.
I will use it to my full advantage.
“Very good, sir,” Johansson says. “I think I’m going to let Dr. Templeton and Dr. Hassan take the lead on this.”
I stop squeezing blood from my fingertips into a puddle on my desk for a moment and frown. “Were you not just bitching to me the other day about Love hogging Felix? Now I give him to you and you’re, what… toobusy??”
