Page 161 of To All the Guys I Killed Before

After a pause, Timms doubles over with a wheezy laugh, looking up at me as he wipes tears from his eyes.

“Did you hear that, Joe? This bitch is truly crazy.”

Rue simply tilts her head a few degrees to the left and continues to stare at him. Fuck me, she’s channeling Pell’s unnatural stillness. It stops his laughter short and even has the hairs on my arms standing at attention.

“Crazy,” she says in a measured tone, “would be coming here unprepared. And Lester? I’m not crazy.”

Timms’s amusement vanishes, and he snatches the gun from his shorts.

What a shame. I was hoping he’d shoot his balls off.

“Hold her,” he snaps at me, gesturing with that fucking gun.

I want no part of this, but at the same time, I’m desperate to touch her again. I set my left hand on her shoulder and curl my right one around the nape of her neck, avoiding the scars on her shoulder and the fading bruises on her throat.

We’ll get through this, baby.

“I’m all ears.” Timms flings his arms out. “Please, tell us your big plan.”

She’s on her knees, her chin lifted in defiance. She’s never been more powerful.

“The prosecutor who replaced Greg knows the case against your ex-wife is bullshit, and your amateur frame job’s going to crumble faster than your hairline did.” She looks meaningfully at his stubbled dome, and if I wasn’t so scared for her, I’d be hard as fucking steel right now.

“My… my amateur…” A vein starts to throb at his temple. “There was nothing amateur about…” He’s too furious to realize he’s implicating himself.

“Sure, Les,” she says in full Marcia Brady mode. “You did great. That’s why I’ve built a full packet of information detailing all your fuckups when you killed Paul Franklin. It gets sent to the lawyer and every news outlet in town if I’m not back home by sunrise today.”

He gets in her face to shout, “I don’t believe you!” His gun stays at his side, but it’s far too close to her, and I’m sure my fingers are painful on her good shoulder as I fight to keep myself in check.

Rue doesn’t react. Not to me and not to him.

“That’s the beauty. You don’t have to believe me. It’ll happen. And that’s not even the best part.” She puts on a show of fighting against my hold to lean forward and mock-whisper, “It’s going to destroy your legacy. All those men like this loser”—she jerks her head at me—“will find out that you’re even more of a pathetic cuck than they’re saying you are.”

She tosses a glance over her shoulder.

“Ask your brother. He knows. Officer Timms couldn’t control his wife. Lost a dick-measuring contest to her new boyfriend. Got slapped around by the lady lawyer who let Angie go free.” She shakes her head. “My god, imagine what your precious Philosopher Kings will say about you by the time I’m done.”

Timms has gone from red-faced to pale, his knuckles white around the gun.

“Or maybe I’m making it all up.” She shrugs. “Who can say when you’re dealing with a crazy woman?” she says in a spooky voice, wiggling her fingers.

Timms is pacing the room now, but he stops to look at his new best friend Joe, a question on his face. I incline my head sadly, reluctantly. Joe hates acknowledging that this is, in fact, the chatter around some parts of the forum. Yes, some of it’s been spurred on by Fi’s anonymous accounts, but plenty of it’s authentic.

Timms shuffles to the couch and collapses with his gun on his knee and his phone in his hand.

“Watch her,” he bites out. Then he spends an agonizing five minutes scrolling, muttering, cursing, issuing threats to no one, and generally working himself into a terrifying lather, given he’s the only one of us in the room with a firearm.

Rue scoots back so her feet are tucked between mine. It’s as close as we can get while we wait.

Finally, Timms throws his phone aside with a growl and advances on Rue, his gun outstretched.

“I don’t care about your lies,” he seethes. “You’re dead, bitch.”

“Hey, brother.” Joe’s getting nervous. “Is this worth the risk? If she’s got stuff a prosecutor could use⁠—”

“Stay out of this,” Rue snaps, and Joe, too, is in love with this woman who whips back around to glare at the man threatening to end her life. “You never suspected I killed Navarro. You won’t ever find Greg’s body. That’s my superpower, Lester. I decide what gets found and when. And I’ve already decided what gets found about you.”

“Oh? What’s that?” Timms tries to stay cool, but his jaw is tense, his forehead damp with sweat. She’s the smallest person in the room, being held in a submissive position by two big men and a gun, yet she’s the one in charge.