The wordsilencedoesn’t seem enough to describe the moment following those words. It’s as if the whole platform has suddenly stopped breathing.
“Those romance goggles you’ve got on—big help to me,” says Lissa. “Kept you distracted enough to never guess what I was up to. But as it turns out, that’s not all they blinded you to.
“See, I’m the big bad guy, sure,” she says flippantly, like it’s old news. “But I think you’ll find the real plot twist in my coat pocket.” She moves as if to retrieve something, then realizes she’s still holding the guns and sighs. “Be a dear and fetch my phone out, will you, Rox? Got my hands a bit full.”
I glance at Grant, whose eyes burn bright at Lissa under his pinched brow. With my spine tingling, I slowly walk to Lissa and do as she asked.
She tells me her passcode, then directs me to open her Facebook messages.MR Page’sFacebook messages. And there, at the top, is a thread from Grant Hoffman.
Lissa nods to me. “Read them aloud, would you?”
I take one more bewildered glance at Grant and clear my throat, then read the messages one by one.
- We need to talk. I know who you are.
- I know you’re Mr. Page. I know what you’re doing, and I want in. I can win this thing. Let me prove it.
- I killed Jack, Lissa. I killed the Pulverizer. I killed Lesley. Do you know the difference between them and me? I’m smart, I’m careful and I’m still alive. Give me a chance.
- I’ll take Roxie down. Watch me trick her, and *then* try and tell me I’m not the best.
The phone falls from my hand, hitting the floor with an echoing clatter.
“I know,” says Lissa. “I was as surprised as you are when I got these messages yesterday. Anxious, bumbling Grant? Who knew he had it in him?”
Grant turns his fiery gaze on me. “Roxie—”
“Oh, no, allow me,” says Lissa. “Let’s see if I’ve got this straight. See, Grant here started out as so many of us do: as a miserable, lonely loser with no power or purpose. That all changed one fateful night when heaccidentallysmashed poor little Jack Smith’s skull. Only—was it an accident? Could it have been, if it feltthatgood? If deep down, even before the fatal blow landed, he knew he could stop himself but hejust…didn’t…want to?
“And then he met me and Lesley and learned about the Facebook group, and suddenly he realized: He wasn’t alone. There were others like him—people brought to life by the thrill of the kill. And then when he found there was a competition underway, well. Classic Grant, really: always has to beright, always has to bebetterthan you. How could he resist the chance to bethe very best?”
She grins at Grant, who looks like he could incinerate her with his eyes.
“See, Grant, there’s just one problem,” Lissa says, refocusing one of the guns at him. “It’s one thing to deceive your intended target. Trickery is a time-honored tenet of serial murder, of course. But to leadmeon, acting the part of Lesley’s little crime fighterwhen you were a hopeful competitor all along—to pull the wool overmyeyes, within my own operation? I can’t allow that. The community I’ve built is based on trust. That’s why you could never belong, let alone be the best.”
“But you, Roxie.” She beams, pointing at me in a way that I think would seem complimentary were it not for the gun in her hand. “Youmight just have what it takes. You’re a wild card, for sure, but I know raw talent when I see it. Undefeated against some of my most promising contestants. Bold. Fearless. And most of all: You’re like me. You know now what it is to be betrayed by a man, to let your heart get the better of you. Now, maybe you don’t have the requisite killing track record, but that’s a technicality. And it’s never too late to start.
“So, here’s your opportunity,” she says. “I could shoot you both and call this whole thing a failed experiment. Or—”
With a dramatic flair, she swings the arm pointed at me over to Grant so that both guns are now trained on him. His hands fly up in defense.
“I could just shoot Grant, on your orders. You can take back your power and join me in showing the world what becomes of a woman scorned. So what do you say? Shall I put an end to this fuckwit and we’ll kick off your vengeance career with a bang?”
She cocks the guns, the clicks echoing loudly in the tunnel, and turns one back to me. “Or will you go down together?” Back and forth she points the gun—to Grant, to me, to Grant again. “Do you want to be allRomeo and Julietabout this, or leave that shit in the books where it belongs?”
From where I stand, so close to her, and with both guns pointed away from me, I could knock them from her hands. I could disarm her and find my way out of this mess with a third option.
Instead, I look to Grant, who’s glaring incredulously at Lissa. He looks at me. The romance hero. The love interest. The manwho fought with me and for me, who listened to my secrets and told me his own, who jumped when I jumped.Together.
The man who lied, says Lissa. Right to my face. Over and over.
“Do it,” I say. “Take the shot.”
Her lips slide into a victorious smile, her arms outstretched and braced to kill.
She doesn’t even look at him as she pulls the trigger.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
