Page 65 of His Sinner

This is her last chance to stay here. To keep hiding somewhere safe. And no matter the outcome, no matter who comes back down that mountain, Mack will be okay as long as she stays hidden.

If she comes with me to Nicholson Manor, I can’t guarantee her safety. Any of ours.

I can’t guarantee our survival.

“Yes. We’re in this together.” She squeezes my hand. “Sisters.”

That’s what makes this so much harder. Mack is my best friend, the closest thing I’ve ever had to a sister, and now I’m leading her into the lion’s den.

“Besides, you need me. I’ve got this.” She lifts her shirt to reveal a pistol in a holster on her hip.

I gasp. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“I applied for my pistol permit after I had that nightmare about James killing me.” She bites her lip. “I wanted to feel like I could protect myself.”

I suppose it’s a good thing she did. Now she may have to use it.

My heart is in my throat when we climb into the car. I’ve never been scared of Trevor before, but now that I know his true identity, now that I know he’s always been the James from Mack’s nightmares, terror thrums through my veins.

He claimed to love Mack, yet he intentionally hurt her. Over and over.

If he can do that to someone he claims to love, what is he capable of doing to someone he hates?

I won’t be able to live with myself if something happens to Saint. Or if Trevor gets his hands on Mack again.

I need to do everything I can to stop him.

Behind the wheel, I slam on the gas. “Let’s get this motherfucker.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

SAINT

Trevor drags my limp body outside. Fresh spring grass hisses beneath my weight, Trevor huffing and grunting as he pulls me by the feet.

As I suspected, those muscles are simply for show. He can deadlift three hundred pounds in a single rep, but dragging a one-hundred-eighty-pound body is a struggle. He’s not cut out for this life of crime.

No neighbors. No one to see us. No one to hear the gunshot if he decides to ensure I’m dead.

He has two options: hide my body where no one will find it until the cause of my death can no longer be determined, or bury me.

I hope he’s stupid enough to hide my body in the woods.

Whatever he chooses, neither will keep me from her.

When Trevor drops my feet and metal clinks against dirt, I dare a glance at my surroundings.

Headstones border us, the cemetery particularly eerie at dusk. In the gravel drive up to the open gate, a truck sits parked. That’s how Trevor hid his vehicle from me when I arrived at Nicholson Manor.

Microscopically, I turn my head to the left. To face my fate.

Trevor spears a shovel into a mound of dirt beside a large hole. A vacant spot away from the other headstones.

He dug a grave. But that’s not all that awaits me.

Inside is a coffin. My heart sinks.

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to wrap my head around how I’ll escape this.

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