Page 106 of Fool Me Twice

He ran a hand over his face and tried to make himself wish he’d never pulled Hart into his mess in the first place.

There was that feral part of him that knew Hart belonged by his side. He belonged to Cane. From the moment they’d first seen each other in that dingy, dusty bar. From the first wild kiss and the first bruising night they’d spent together.

He’d never stopped being Cane’s.

And he’d be a fucking fool if he didn’t do everything in his power to make sure Hart was okay.

Cane took care of what was his.

The train whistled to a stop and Cane steeled himself for a second before getting up. He cast a look around the train before exiting. He wanted to be seen.

He descended the stairs from the train station and took the main road, meandering past small farmhouses and neat fields. It wasn’t much, but it was about as green as Slatehollow could get, the farmers growing what could survive the pollution and lack of consistent sunlight.

He tried listening for steps behind him, for someone breathing down his neck. There was nothing but that ever-present feeling he always had.

Someone was there.

He left the farmhouses and fields behind him, stepping off the rough pathways and heading toward the very edge of Slatehollow. The end of the place that held most of his life in it.

It seemed fitting that he’d laid her to rest at the end of everything that held meaning to him. He walked between the few scattered trees, the grass coming up to his knees now that he was out of the range of people doing the upkeep.

He heard a rustle behind him.

He didn’t turn around.

He continued to the last tree, spreading its roots into the little creek that marked the natural border between Slatehollow and Arcstead. The trunk was three times his width, knobby and crooked and slightly slanted toward the water like it wanted to fall into it. He stopped next to it, looking down at the bottom of it, catching sight of the faded little X he’d carved into it. So he wouldn’t forget.

Not that he ever could.

She haunted him still, even without her daughter taking up the mantle of vengeance.

“Long time no see, Sarah,” Cane said, making sure his voice was loud enough to carry. “I was kinda hoping it’d be forever, but here we are.”

He bent down, leaning his hands on his knees to get his face closer to the ground, still alert. Still present and aware of his surroundings. She had taught him some things well, after all. “You always sucked at leaving things the fuck alone. Almighty Sarah, thinking she was better than everyone else. But you weren’t, were you? At the end of the day you died just like you lived. Like a lying, two-faced bitch.”

A branch cracked behind him. He straightened up.

“And you opted to be a bitch in the beyond too, huh?” he asked the air, the rustling behind him getting louder now. Less careful. “What story did you give her, huh? How much bullshit did you feed her to be doing this?”

“There was no bullshit.”

Cane turned around slowly, finding himself eye to eye with a girl who looked way younger than her nineteen years. She was tall, waifish, fragile looking.

Nothing about her looked like Sarah. Cane wouldn’t have picked her out of a fucking line-up if his life had depended on it.

And yet there she was. Standing in front of him after ruining his life. He supposed she’d look smug if it weren’t for the deep blue shadows under her eyes and the gauntness of her cheeks. She looked exhausted. Like something had drained her of half her lifeforce.

He couldn’t even pretend to give a fuck. Maybe in another timeline, when she hadn’t come for the person he cared about most, he could have found an ounce of sympathy. For now, he just hoped she’d stay on her feet long enough for him to get what he wanted.

“So you came after me because she told you the truth?” He sneered, and she returned the look as best as she could. A feral thing down to the bone.

“I came after you because you took her from me,” she hissed. “My father told me. You came after her like a bloodhound and wouldn’t stop until you ended her.”

There wasn’t a reply he could give, because yes. That was exactly what he’d done.

Another thing he had learned from her.

He’d been her bloodhound for years before he turned to bite the hand that had abused him.

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