Page 34 of Ripple Effect, Vol. 4

“Now that … he’s gone, let’s get real, shall we?”

I narrow my eyes on Dorian.

“Does Ripley … know you used him … to get to me?”

I don’t let the words penetrate the shield I put up the moment I saw this sick bastard back at the club. I had a feeling he’d recognize me. “You killed my mother.”

“Technically, the drugs killed her.”

“Drugs you had tainted.” Keeping my gun on him, I don’t so much as flinch when he smiles. “This was a long time coming.”

“She was beautiful … your mother. A natural up on that stage. My best dancer.” He exhales a groan and my gaze falls to the blood seeping through his shirt. “I offered her … fifty grand for you. Fifty. Couldn’t resist when I saw you. Innocence … with a wild heart. She refused. Smart woman … to hide you from me.” His stare flits to my tattoo and back. “But look … I found you anyway. Made you … my butterfly.”

I grind my teeth, trying not to engage him, but I’m certain my eyes speak for me.

“The Monarch butterfly is an intriguing creature. Every year they migrate to Mexico. Did you know that?” When I don’t answer, he continues, “Some theorize … a natural instinct that the … subsequent generations … end up at the same place. A built-in … genetic map passed down … from the parent. Your mother was a whore. Therefore, you were … born to be a whore. Just like your mother.” He tips his head, eyes tracking down toward my legs and back. “Such a rare beauty. My only regret … was sending you to that … incompetent ass who failed to train you … properly. Cardinal rule. Don’t get … attached. Or obsessed, as it were.”

Randy. I lift the gun, my hand shaking as his words swirl inside my head.

“So now what? You shoot me, then … you and Ripley ride off into the sunset?” Another hacking cough has him bent over and he lifts a trembling hand away from his wound that’s coated in thick, sticky blood.

I keep my stare locked on him, not bothering to answer the question. I need to keep him alive until I hear from Jörgen.

“Has he told you … who he works for? When the Agency finds you … they’ll kill you too.” His smile’s painted red, and a dribble of blood leaks from the corner of his mouth. “Or maybe … they won’t. Maybe they’ll make you … one of their own. Think that’s a better option?”

“Than what? Becoming a sex slave?”

“Whether you’re made … to kill or fuck … slavery is slavery. A whore is a whore. Ask Ripley. He’s their most … prized possession.”

“Enough.”

“Has he told you everything? How they … plucked him up as a young boy? Tortured him into the killer he is today?”

I shake my head. “Shut your mouth before I blow it off your face.”

“I know … what they do. Strip them of humanity. Turn them into monsters.”

“Shut the fuck up!”

It won’t be long now. Death looms over the man like a shadow behind his eyes. They’re more sunken than before and carry the exhaustion of trying to cling to life as long as he can.

He’s not worth it. Let him suffer his death to the end.

“They’ll do the same … to you. You won’t even recognize yourself.”

“Go to hell!” I scream, steadying the gun.

“You’re not a … killer, though. So my guess is, they’ll … eliminate you … when they’re done with you.”

“Not another word!” I lift the gun higher, my hand shaking.

“You’ve waited … a long time … for this. Go ahead. Do it.”

His face softens through a blur of tears.

“You see? You’re not … a killer, after all.”

“Fuck you!”