Page 69 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Am I good?

And then it hits me. Holy shit. I am good. Briar and Nat could have killed me right then and there. I could have ended up like that Charlie guy. From all the warnings my stepdad told me, I knew Briar was dangerous in some type of way. I just never realized how much. They could have killed me and made it seem like an accident.

But no, they chose to trust me.

Briar chose to trust me.

“Yeah,” I say, clearing my throat because of how rough it sounds. “Are you?”

His lips twitch, his eyes swimming with amusement. “Yup.” After squeezing my shoulder, he finally lets go. He downs down and sighs, “Listen, Rurik. I’m not going to pretend and gaslight you. You saw what you saw. I can only thank you for… you know.”

“Not ratting you guys out?” I can’t help but bite.

Oscar smirks, “For protecting my family.”

I stare at him, unsure what to say next. Then I ask, “Did he deserve it?”

His brows furrow as if he's contemplating an answer. “If someone barges into your life with the sole intent of causing malicious harm to your loved ones, would you think it’s safe for that person to continue living among us?”

He walks away with a casual shrug before I can answer him.

*-*-*-*

It’s been days since a living nightmare of mine happened. Days since Briar and Natalie left me in the room with a dead body. Days since I was forced to cover for them. Days later, I feel like my heart is about to give out, and I'm spiraling into a puking mess.

And not once has Briar texted me to ask how I'm doing.

Not that I would have texted her back. I haven’t even replied to any of her ongoing texts before this shitshow.

I should. I open my inbox and finally reply.

ME:

-Can you stop texting me? Leave me alone.

I stare at my response and wait. But I don’t have to wait that long because she immediately responds:

CRAZY MIGRAINE:

-Angel? Um, I haven’t texted you in weeks, lol

-You’re the one reaching out to me!

-Wait. Awww… You miss me!

-Come on, don’t fight whatever this is between us ;)

Like the grown, entirely composed adult I am, I respond in the most mature manner possible whenever I encounter something I disagree with—I snarl at the text messages I receive and hurl my phone across the bed.

I shake my head and sit up to retrieve my poor phone. How dare she respond as if I didn’t just break the law for her? What the hell is wrong with her? Is this something she does regularly?

Not wanting to think about it some more, I force myself to get out of bed and go on about my day. Since the murder that happened during the Masquerade of the Arts, Oscar closed the gallery down to avoid unwanted attention and gossip. To be brutally honest, I think that's a bad idea. Not because I want to spend my time working there instead of at the grocery store, but people foam at the mouth for that kind of shit, right? They’re intrigued by the idea that a building could be haunted because someone died there. We could have garnered more foot traffic just by people coming in because of what happened.

I told Oscar that, and he looked at me like I was crazy.

ME.

Okay.

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