Callie definitely saw us kill Chad Smith.
She looks up, a despondent look on her face. “What the fuck, Wes?”
Noah steps close to me and turns his head, speaking directly into my ear. “Do you need me?”
“No. Thank you,” I say quietly. “We’ll meet you back at the apartment.”
Noah nods and strides away without a backward glance.
I step close to Callie, only five feet away now, testing to see how close she’ll let me get. She looks up with wide, vulnerable eyes.
“Can I sit?” When she nods, I sink down next to her. “Did you see?”
“Yes.” A violent shiver shakes her body. Sitting on this cold concrete step in early March in Boston is not the best choice. Or is her shiver from fear?
“Do you have questions?” I hope she asks the right ones. I hope she doesn’t freak out. I hope she doesn’t run.
“How did you know?” she asks after a minute.
“Know what?”
“That those girls would need saving?”
I blink and try to process what she’s asking.
“And you guys—you killed him. Noah stabbed him. You held him still.” She whimpers and covers her face with her hands. I slide my arm around her shoulders.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, Calliope. I’m sorry you saw that.” She leans into me, and I’m encouraged by the action. “He was a bad person. We knew that. And Noah figured out he’d be… out and about.”
“How did he know that?” Callie looks up at me. I reach over with my free hand and wipe a tear from her cheek. Her eyelids flutter.
I don’t know what to do here. I think I have to tell her. Because if not, she’ll just guess anyway.
“Noah and I, we—” I breathe in deeply and her eyes open again. Waiting. Watching. Her breathing has calmed down. “We take care of bad people. Very bad people.”
“What doestake care ofmean?” Callie whispers.
Uh oh. I sigh.
“We find individuals the world would be better without. Guys who like to fuck young girls. Guys who kill them, rape them, destroy them. Andwedestroy those guys.”
Callie swallows, and I watch her throat move. Not long ago I was kissing that throat, and while she hasn’t pushed me away, I’m not sure we’ll get to that point ever again. I’m already mourning the us that never was. She was special. Sheisspecial, but she’ll never be mine. Not now. Not ever.
“Why do you do that?” Callie sits up straighter. I keep my arm around her shoulders, as if it’s a weight holding her down from flying away.
I’ve never spoken about what happened to my family to anyone. Not since we took out their murderer. Not sinceNoah realized he liked killing, and I couldn’t let him do it alone.
But I want to tell Callie. I want her to understand that I’m not a monster. Or maybe I am, but I have my reasons.
“Ten years ago, our parents and little sister were murdered.”
Callie gasps. “What? Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” She turns to me and slides her hands onto my thigh, scooting closer.
“And before he killed Ivy—” my voice hitches “—he raped her. She was fourteen years old.” The words are so awful. So much worse out loud than in my head.
“Wes, that’s horrible. That poor girl.” She’s crying again and gripping my thigh.
I nod, my eyes fixed on a lamppost across the quiet street. “The cops weren’t getting anywhere. They had a list of suspects, but it was slow, and they kept messing up, and looking in the wrong fucking places.”
