Page 50

The first room is Caleb’s gaming room, where it all began. It’s dark and lifeless. Just as I like it.

Only one door left.

I push it open, and there she stands in the middle of the room, calm as the wind before a storm. She’s dressed in all black, a cigarette perched between her lips, pretending to be someone who’s been smoking for years instead of a new habit being formed. Smoke curls around her face in lazy spirals, making her look both ethereal and deadly.

And that smile. God, that smile. It was carved straight from the devil’s playbook.

“You like the flowers I got you?” she asks, as she exhales a plume of smoke.

“Very… unique.”

I lean against the doorframe, my hands deep in my pockets to keep them from shaking. She has me rattled in ways I’ve never experienced.

I hate it.

I love it.

“Thought I’d return the favor, since you’ve graciously gifted me so many.”

“You seem to be a fan of reciprocation.” I give her a quick wink.

Her grin widens, smoke curling from her nostrils. “Obviously.”

I pull one of my hands out of my pocket, forming a V with two fingers. She looks at me like I’ve asked to borrow her soul, then flicks the half-burnt butt at my feet. I step on it without breaking eye contact, grinding it beneath my boot until the ember dies.

“I want you to come with me,” I tell her.

“Where? To hell?”

“My place.”

She pauses for a moment, our stares staying connected.

“I have a knife.”

“Okay… Cool… So do I,” I reply with a dark laugh, pulling my switchblade from my pocket. The metal clink fills the space between us when I flick it open. She doesn’t jump, but pulls out her own weapon from her waistband for me to see. The knife is streaked with wiped-off blood.

“I don’t want to go with you.”

I step closer, showing her I’m not afraid as I retract my blade and slip it back into my pocket.

“Put the knife away, darling. I’m not here to fight with you.”

“But I do want to fight you.”

I close the distance between us until we’re barely apart; close enough I can smell the smoke that lingers and see the flecks of dried blood across her skin.

“We have the rest of our lives to do that. Neither of us has anyone now. It’s just you and me.”

My words must have affected her. I watch the crack appear in her armor, a glimmer of realization crossing her features. She burned down my world, but in doing so, she made herself the only thing left standing. And I was the same for her.

Her eyes dart around the room, scanning the walls for answers carved into the paint. I wait, still and patient as she decides whether or not to make a run for it.

Finally, she whispers, “You should be scared of me.”

I reach out slowly, giving her time to pull away, and cup my hand against her cheek. Her skin is fever-warm under my palm.

“Wynnie, darling, I don’t have all night. Drop the knife and let’s go.”