Page 211

It’s quiet after they stop trying to hold themselves together. I stare down at what I’ve done, my hand still gripping the knife too tightly.

My stomach rolls at the sight. So much blood came out of them. It’s all over the dresser, the bed. Me.

I grab at my own neck and chest instinctively. I’m still here. Still alive.

I look down at the blade and fold it closed.

Then I run.

CHAPTER 47

ZAIYA

Iburst out of the hotel into the night. The air is still sticky and thick with heat. My lungs burn with every breath. My legs don’t want to work anymore, but I force them to carry me away. I don’t stop running until the building is behind me and darkness closes in.

They’ll be coming.

The Order. Patrick. Frank.

I wish I could see the shock on Patrick’s face when he finds the bodies I left behind. The disbelief that his plans were ruined by the girl everyone underestimated. Again. It’s not much of a comfort, but it does give me a cruel satisfaction I won’t apologize for.

The smart thing to do now is leave. It’s tempting. I could take a boat from the shack, push off into the river and let the current drag me south until this place becomes nothing but a smear in my memory. I have no phone, no money. But I could survive. I’m already covered in blood. I’ve already done the worst part.

But I would never forgive myself for leaving Evelyn and Calista behind.

The police are worthless here. Officer Miller is drinking whatever Kool-Aid Frank is giving him.

And Edwin…

I can’t go to him. I can’t risk being caught. My heart hurts too much when I think of his face.

So I do the only thing I can do. I head for the Bolton house. It’s late enough that Calista should be in bed. I can get her out of there first.

The house sits at the end of the street, windows dark. You’d think the family is inside fast asleep. I circle around to Calista’s bedroom, finding the light still on inside. But the room is empty.

At least she’s here.

I round the house towards the kitchen, drawn by the light spilling through the sliding door. It brings back evenings chatting with Evelyn and the brief, foolish comfort of believing this place was home.

My heart leaps when I see Calista sitting at the table, shoulders slumped, staring at the wood like she’s seeing patterns in the grain. I knock on the door and she flinches, her eyes flicking up to meet mine through the glass.

I try the door and find it’s unlocked.

“Calista, you need to come with me,” I say as I step inside. “Frank is crazy. He’s a murderer. We need to get your mom and go. Right now.”

She sits there like she doesn’t comprehend what I’m saying. She doesn’t move, doesn’t speak.

“Are you listening to me? I said let’s go. Where’s your mom?”

Her lips part slowly, and there’s a shine to her eyes. “Zaiya…”

The slowness is driving me crazy, but the warning in her voice makes my skin tingle.

“What?”

“I’m sorry.”

My instincts kick in too late. I spot the rope that bites into Calista’s wrists and ankles, hidden by the table. Adrenaline spikes through me. I need to run.