Page 195 of Deceit

At home, I crack open my laptop after locking the deadbolts on my door and making myself some coffee. Alexander has already sent a text message to an unknown number, looking for an update on his “cupcake delivery” AKA Bishop’s murder.

I should’ve taken one of the phones and fucked with him.

Anyway, since he’ll be sitting on obtaining a response all night, I work on my next plan of getting Alexander alone so that I can take him out for good this time.

My phone rings a few minutes later, displaying Mill’s name and I smile at the prospect of seeing my babies.

“Hey,” I greet. “Are you—“

“Emmy, gonna need you here right now.”

My heart accelerates and I’m already standing from my chair to move to the door. “What’s wrong now? What happened?”

“Marty…” A loud rapping of bangs comes next and I whip open my door to get outside to my car. “He’s fucking here to kill me.”

“The hell are you talking about?” I snap. “For what?”

“Geezus Christ,” he mutters, then raises his voice. “He’s taunting me to open the door, Ems. He won’t fucking leave. He’s gonna—“

“Hold on—“ The door to the front of my complex slams against the brick wall, and I’m sprinting to my car. “—why is he there? Why is he trying to hurt you?”

“Mills!” I hear the distinct rumble of Marty’s voice in the background, and I’m all sorts of fucking confused and worried and about to lose my entire shit.

“Mills,” I seize out. “What’s happening? Did you fight?”

“I haven’t seen the motherfucker,” Mills storms out. “He kept saying he wants the truth.”

The truth.

Me.

My death.

What we’ve been doing.

But how in the fuck did he know?

Blue?

My nostrils flare just thinking about her betraying me for her own sick amusement. I will kill that bitch and bury her with Alexander if she ratted me out.

But Kyson would already be calling.

Maybe, I don’t know.

“Open the door,” I profess to Mills. “Give him the phone. I’ll talk to—“ A loud bang fills the back and I jump the curb with my Jeep to get out onto the main road. “Tell me what’s happening!”

“Marty, chill!” Mills demands sternly. “The kids are sleeping.”

“Fuck you, asshole,” Marty leers, sounding way too fucking close.

“Phone,” I remind Mills. “Give him the—“ I hear a click, causing me to glance down at the call ending.

I call Mills four more times before I’m in a full-blown panic attack at what Marty could be doing to Mills right now with my kids in the house.

Again, all this is my fault.

I tried to handle my own shit like a big girl and I just threw Mills to the wolves to have a massive target on his back.

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