His lips curve into a small smile of understanding. “Rage on the inside, ice on the outside. You really are too precious to be wasting time on trash like this.”
The rag muffles Danny’s babbles.
Rowan cocks his head at him. “Oh, I’m not suggesting he should let you go. You’regoingto die tonight.”
I shift positions, moving behind Danny as Rowan suggested. My hand finds the back of his head, firming my grip on his hair tight enough to stretch the skin of his scalp.
“He hurt sixteen other girls before my sister,” I tell Rowan, unsure why I bother explaining myself to him. “He’s been doing this for years.”
Rowan’s expression hardens. “Then finish it.”
I didn’t ask for permission, and I don’t need it. I had planned to spend more time taking Danny apart, returning even a small measure of the pain he dealt my sister. But Rowan’s encouragement acts as a catalyst, and I suddenly want to be done with Danny. As Rowan said, he’s a waste of my time.
I pull his head back further to expose the underside of his jaw, where the skin is thinner, closer to the essential vessels beneath.
With the same skill I use to break down a chicken carcass, I slide the blade upward in one clean motion, parting skin and tissue with minimal resistance. Blood wells, dark and thick, spilling down his neck instead of spraying outward as it would have with my original angle.
Danny’s body convulses, a reflexive response rather than a conscious struggle. His eyes glaze over as his oxygen supply cuts off, and blood pools on the plastic beneath him.
In less than thirty seconds, he goes still.
I release my grip on his hair, letting his head loll forward.
“Clean,” Rowan comments with approval. “No wasted movement.”
Despite what I just did, my hands remain steady as I wipe the blade on Danny’s chest hair before folding it closed.
With the violence concluded, Rowan moves closer. “What’s your cleanup plan?”
“Acid in the bathtub,” I answer. It wasn’t elegant, but it was all I could source without drawing attention. “Dissolve what I can, dispose of the rest in pieces.”
Rowan shakes his head. “You’d need more acid than you can buy without raising flags, and thechemical stench would attract attention from neighbors.”
“Internet fail. But two out of three is better than I expected.” My brain processes alternatives. “You have a better suggestion?”
“I have someone who can make his body disappear.” Rowan steps around the blood pool, careful not to disturb the plastic. “No questions, no trace.”
Suspicion cuts through my detachment. “At what cost?”
“To you?” His eyes caress me. “Nothing, precious.”
“Everyone wants something,” I counter.
Rowan considers this, his head tilting. “True enough. Let’s say I collect the favor later.”
“I have the right to refuse if it puts my sister at risk,” I counter.
“I wouldn’t dream of harming your sister.” Rowan extends his hand. “Deal?”
I stare at his offered palm before pulling off my bloody glove and placing my hand in his. “Deal.”
His fingers close around mine in a brief shake, but instead of releasing me afterward, he maintains his grip, tugging me away from the body.
“Let’s get out of here, precious, before theadrenaline high hits.” His thumb brushes over my knuckles. “Trust me, you don’t want to be here when it crashes.”
The nickname should irritate me. The presumption of his touch should trigger my defenses. Instead, I find myself grabbing my backpack and following as he leads me toward the door, my hand still held in his.
6
