Page 28 of Lake House Killer

I’m barreling down the path to becoming a pawn in the mob’s pocket.

I wonder if I’ll turn my head away.

I wonder if I can.

17

Evil

The icy night air feels invigorating, and with each breath pluming from my lips, it’s a reminder of the control I have, firmly within my grasp.

A smile curls on my lips as the fate of both Damien and Lydia comes to mind, with each scenario more satisfying than the last.

Damien, with his hollow charm, and Lydia so blissfully unaware of the true nature of the beast she had fed by her side.

Or maybe she was aware?

Maybe she was on the cusp of figuring it all out.

Oh, to think of the pleasure I would have derived to see their perfect blessed union shatter to pieces. She knew he was a monster, but I don’t believe for a second that she knew how deep those waters ran.

Who am I kidding?

They’re both monsters, cut from the same cloth. He just wields his horns a little more prominently. Lydia knows enough about his schemes to be culpable in a court of law. But since the legal wheels churn slowly, I’m more than glad to take things into my own hands.

I’m more than competent to right the wrongs they’ve dealt me. They believed they could tread on lives like mine without consequence, weaving their deceit and manipulation into the fabric of my daily existence. But no longer. The scales are about to tip, and justice, my justice, will be grand, and perfect, and right.

I make my way to the shelter where I have that wicked witch holed up, and my thoughts turn to the plans I’ve laid out for Damien.

He will suffer, of course, but his punishment must be more intricate, far more drawn out. He thinks he knows how this ends. And he’s about to learn he’s dead wrong.

Lydia’s fate was meant to be nothing more than a warning to him. But that couple that got in the way?

As soon as that man sat up in bed I realized it wasn’t Damien. I’ve memorized Damien’s frame, his every nuanced movement, the sound of his voice. Without giving it a thought, I pumped him with a bullet. Then his wife had to rouse herself—so she needed to go, too.

Switching bedrooms.

I shake my head.

That was something I hadn’t planned on.

I knew they were there. I figured I’d hobble them in the hall at best. I wanted to hobble Damien in that bed. The plan was to shoot low, aim for his lower torso. Something he could survive. Then stun him with the taser.

Tase Lydia. Throw a pillowcase over her head, fling her over my shoulder, and flee.

The Becks would have been cowering, calling for help while I slinked out and drove off with the loot.

But plans changed. Death was an option I had to explore. Deep down, I knew it would be. I didn’t want to go in thinking I was a killer. But I knew it all along. The Becks just so happened to prove me right.

I had to shoot my way out of that cabin. I had to.

I imagine the future, the moment when they realize who has been orchestrating their downfall. I picture Damien’s face, contorted with the agony mirroring the anguish he once inflicted upon me. And Lydia with her broken spirit, finally understanding the cost of her blind loyalty to a man unworthy of it.

But what of my own future?

Once the deed is done, once Damien and Lydia have paid their dues, where will I stand?

A shiver of anticipation runs through me. I’ll finally be free from the horror of my past, able to move forward without the heavy chains of their treachery weighing me down.

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