Ian makes a derisive noise. “You never really know anyone. Have I ever told you, for example, that I help with my daughter’s Girl Scout troop?”
“What?” I stare at him in shock.
“Yep.” A half laugh. “They love me. Think I’m the best dad. No one would ever suspect what I really do.”
I’m not sure if I’m more surprised that he has a daughter—for whatever reason, I just assumed he had a son—or that he helps with the troop. I can’t see it, his tall, imposing form kneeling down to help with crafts or to set up a tent. He seems more like the father-from-a-distance type, not a gentle giant ready to offer a helping hand to a little girl in a brown uniform trying to earn her baking badge.
Then his meaning settles in. No one would suspect he’s a killer—just like I would have never suspected Brian isn’t the kind, gentle soul he pretends to be. It’s just another role he’s playing, another part he’s cast himself in.
My phone vibrates against my hip and I check it, concerned Brian’s woken and found me gone from the house. But it’s my work phone. John.Nadia, stop fucking around and kill this guy. I don’t think you understand the repercussions—
I sigh, shut the screen off, blink into the darkness, blind from the light of the phone.
“What?”
“It’s John. He wants the job done and done now. But it’s not that easy. I don’t want to kill Brian until I know what he’s done. He’s my husband. I love him. What if they’re wrong? Or what if—” I take a steadying breath. “What if he’s having an affair, and her husband found out, and he’s super rich and—”
“Jesus, Nadia. You’re going deep here. Just kill him. You’ll find someone new. I told you, people are replaceable. Friends. Husbands. Everyone.”
I shut my mouth. Soak in his words. Spoken like a true psychopath. And once, I would have agreed with him. I’m fidgeting, wringing my hands, and I force them still. I could tell Ian my truth—that beyond the fact that I promised my grandmother I would only kill those who deserved it, I need Brian. I need ourfamily, together, in one piece. Without them, I’d fall apart. I’d become her, the monster lurking beneath the surface, ready to break through the waters and claw her way out.
“It’s not that easy,” I say instead. Because this isIan, killer extraordinaire.
“It could be.”
“They hired you to kill him. I’m assuming that means they may have hired others too.”
He bobs his head. “That’s a fair assumption.”
“I’m stuck. I was going to kill him, but it will destroy my life if I do. Destroyme. So I want to know what he’s doing before I doit—I want to besure, so I don’t regret it for the rest of my life. And if I don’t kill him, John will never work with me again. The agency will never work with me. I’ll have to freelance, if I’m not blacklisted or killed first.”
In other words, my life as I know it is over.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“Do you ever feel likethere’s a monster inside you? And like it might get out?” The words escape me, that thing I’ve never said aloud to anyone, even Gran, and especially him.
This emotion—whatever label it deserves—makes me feel like I can barely breathe. But not because I’m panicking—no, because I’m doing everything in my power to keep the monster at bay. To keep herinsideinstead of out.
Silence stretches into the night and unfurls, leaving me utterly self-aware. Maybe I’m the only one like this, who feels as though there are two people inside her. The bad one. And the even worse one.
“I used to,” Ian finally says.
My heart leaps. I look over at him. “How did you make it stop? How did you—keep it under control?”
A grim smile, barely discernible in the darkness.
“I didn’t. I stopped fighting it. I became one with the monster.”
A tingle spreads over my skin. For a breathless moment, I think maybe that’s the key—embracing her. But then I think of Eliza and Evie. Our home. Our freaking dog, Bear, who tilts her head at me and gives me a doggy smile and wiggles every time she spotsme. I don’t see how the monster can exist in the same world they do. In fact, I’m sure she can’t.
“You don’t have to be this person.” He steps off the rock wall and gestures at me. “You don’t have to be everything, Nadia. You can just be the killer, and that’s okay.”
“I have kids,” I snap. “A life.”
A small smile. “So do I.”
I want to yell—want to argue. I huff in frustration; he doesn’t get it. Where is his child right now? He can come and go as he pleases because he has someone at home taking care of his daughter. I’m only out here because it’s the middle of the night and my family is sleeping soundly in their beds. He can slip out the door and be the monster and do what needs doing and then come home and all will be okay, because it doesn’t all rest on his shoulders. But me? I’m the mom. I have to be there for the girls. What if I can’t compartmentalize? What if it’s all or nothing and I screw up their childhood, their lives?
