Page 181 of The Pact

In a folder labeled Poems, I found hundreds of printed out text conversations between Cassie and Thea. Scribbled notes over the papers looked like those of a deranged man. Another folder holds medical transcripts. Ones labeled Garrity Adult Crisis Stabilization Unit. The admittance date is from ten years ago. He was better, he’s been better.

At the bottom of the drawer, I found Cassie’s missing phone, a key copier kit, and a baggie filled with white stuff, flour, I realized after tasting it. A box with dozens of starter relays was covered by a black hoodie.

Cole was the one making Thea’s life a living hell, not Gavin.

His computer was next. Damian logged into his personal bank account and found he’d stopped for gas on the Tennessee Georgia line in the small town of Copperhill. Using his card was sloppy, but he hadn’t planned on doing this tonight.

The question was, did he keep going or stay near Copperhill? Damian searched his history for the town. Three days ago, he’d done numerous searches on cabin rentals in the area.

We then searched his email and sure enough, there was a confirmation from last night for a last-minute booking. A cabin just north of Copperhill. He only booked one night. Which meant that we might be too late.

I called in a favor with a friend at the Willow Hill police station, who got us in touch with the sheriff in Copperhill. We were already on our way to Tennessee and walking through the police station doors when the sheriff greeted us. Thankfully, she was on board with getting a team out to the cabin, considering the severity of the situation and Cole’s history.

I didn’t want to involve the police. We’ve dealt with them enough in the past—we prefer to handle our problems privately. But Damian insisted that this was the better option. We had no idea what we’d find when we arrived.

So here we are, speeding towards our girl, hoping that Cole hasn’t done something he’ll regret.

THEA

Cole’s eyes bulge in surprise. I can tell he doesn’t know what’s going on. His hands fly to his throat and he probes what’s lodged there. I expected blood to spray everywhere, but it only comes out in a slow trickle around the edges of the metal.

This is it, while he’s still in shock.

I push off of his chest and my feet hit the floor, ready to run. Just as I turn and lunge for the keys on the windowsill, I’m yanked back. Cole’s holding onto me with a death grip, his nails drawing blood from where they sink in.

When I meet his eyes, they’ve darkened with evil intent. Fuck. I use all of my body weight to pull free, however, he’s too strong. Suddenly, he’s throwing me down onto the couch and straddling me. How the hell has he not passed out from the pain?

I’m staring at the corkscrew still embedded in his skin. The sight of it makes me gag. I realize my fatal mistake as I watch the vein along the side of his neck bulge. I should have gone for that instead.

Pushing against his grip, I kick my legs, trying to find any way to catapult him off of me. Cole’s too heavy and the weight of his body holds my hips down like blocks of concrete.

His hands let my shoulders go and I don’t waste a moment, bringing them up to scratch at any bare skin I can get a hold of. He’s not fazed. Cole wraps both of his hands around my throat, much tighter than even Damian’s grip.

I pull at his fingers desperately, but it only makes him squeeze tighter. I try to suck in air, any air. It’s useless. Staring into Cole’s eyes, I see nothing but rage there. He doesn’t see me as the sweet, innocent woman he first met. If he did, he might have second thoughts about this. Now, I’m the whore who fucks his brothers. He’ll have no trouble killing that woman.

The realization that I’m about to die doesn’t shock me. It seems to wash over me in waves. The first wave is irony that, of course, I’d get murdered in this sorry ass cabin at the hands of a man who was supposed to love me. The second wave is sadness that I won’t get to say goodbye to Cassie, Sutton, Wes, or Damian. My sweet Sutton. He deserves to live. I’ll gladly go in his place if that’s an option, if the universe will allow it. The third wave is regret that I didn’t do more with my life. I’ve left no legacy, and I didn’t live my life to its fullest.

What a goddamn waste.

My lungs burn and my body jerks at the lack of air. Cole pushes down harder on my throat, the cool metal of his ring pressing into my skin. He doesn’t deserve that ring. He’s not one of them.

I’m not even trying to scratch at him anymore. I can barely focus as I see double. My fingers slap softly against his shoulder, his chest, and then they graze the handle of the corkscrew.

Fuck this. If I’m going to die, I’m dragging him to hell with me.

I give one last reach upwards just as my vision darkens around the edges and spots float in. My fingers find the handle and I grip as tightly as I can, yanking the corkscrew out. This time, his blood spurts out all over me. I expect Cole’s hands to fly to his throat, but he keeps his hold on me like this is some fucking game of chicken.

Stretching my arm out to the side, I bring it back up with all the strength I have left. The metal sinks into his skin, although I don’t know if I’ve hit the vein. Still, I’m satisfied with my effort. Wesley wouldn’t call this a fail. I fought like I wanted to live. I hope it makes him proud when he remembers me.

Cole’s hands push harder into my throat.

His warm blood coats me and darkness closes in—I go easily.

I wake with a stinging gasp of air, then another, and another. My chest is heaving and my head is pounding. I look around wildly, but I can barely focus. Finally, when my vision clears, I glance down at my body to find I’m covered in sticky redness.

Cole. He was on top of me. How long was I out? The door to the cabin is open, and the sky is still a pale light blue. I don’t think the sun’s risen yet. I couldn’t have been out for too long. Where the hell is Cole?

I roll off the couch, my body hits the floor with a thud. Everything hurts. My palms slip out from under me and my face smacks into the wood. I lift up to see a trail of blood leading out the door.

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