Page 41 of Tainted Wings of Failure

I can't help a breathy chuckle rising from my stomach. "Don't be sorry. A response like that is better than someone just feeling sorry for me. Sympathy doesn't change anything or erase what happened." I sigh and look down as she takes my hands back in hers and moves even closer, her fingers nervously beginning to pick at my skin, pulling at one of the prominent scars on my hand.

"How did you kill her?"

"One day something inside me snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. I tampered with a gas pipe in the basement, and while they were in there, I locked the room from the outside. As soon as one of them lit a cigarette, they went up in flames." I close my eye and allow the images of the day to flash before my mind's eye. The blazing flames swallowing the small suburban home where I grew up outside New York City, the desperate cries for help, the sirens of fire trucks in the distance and the screams of neighbors outside. "I stayed in the house long enough for their cries for help to quiet down, then burned myself to make it look believable." My hand automatically moves to the burn scar on my chest, covered by my shirt. Evelyn's hand follows, landing on top of mine.

I open my eye again and find her staring at me, with tears rolling down her cheeks. "What happened to you after all this? You were emancipated; that seems strange in that situation."

"I was in the hospital for months. My foster dad and siblings vanished into thin air. Instead, Kyle and his parents took care of me during that time."

"So you really went to school with Kyle?

"Yeah, that wasn't a lie."

"Then how did you two get into professional killing?"

"Kyle's dad worked for the Mob and he was always supposed to follow in his father's footsteps. I was just a bonus. His parents knew immediately what I had done and made it their priority to get a hold of me by any means necessary. They were afraid that if they didn't teach me I would end up as a serial killer."

"So they turned you into a hitman instead? That's just a different kind of serial killer."

"Yes, but like that, who I killed was mostly controlled. I only killed people who were not targets when they actively got in my way."

"Right," she says, scooting closer, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, climbing onto my lap, and I put my hands on her hips. "Did it feel good to kill your foster mother?"

"Yes," I admit with a smile. Evelyn just nods and inches closer until her body is pressed against mine.

"Does it feel good when you kill altogether?"

"Yes." I say, my tone flat and detached, with no emotion behind my answer. We both fall silent, her eyes meeting mine as she nods.

"Thank you for telling me all this." She breaks the silence and guides my face into the crook of her neck while the fingers of her other hand trace soothing patterns on my back. "I promise no one will ever hurt you again. I will protect you, us."

I close my eye and wrap my arms around her waist, breathing in her sweet and inviting scent, a mix of cherry, vanilla and her own unique smell. The warmth of her body seeps into mine, melting the barriers I've built around myself and calming the storm within. I can feel her steady heartbeat against my chest, matching the rhythm of her gentle breathing.

For the first time I don't feel the need to hide, to put up a front, to keep my guard up. I feel truly safe and understood and I allow myself to be vulnerable in a way I never thought possible. I tighten my arms around her, holding on to her as if letting go would mean losing this newfound sense of security.

Chapter 25

Evelyn

I lift my head from the pot in front of me, where dinner is cooking, and my eyes land on Noah, sitting on the sofa with his glasses on and a book in his hand, lost in the world of words, while Penelope sits on his lap. The little white bird occasionally coos happily when he runs a finger over her smooth feathers.

Ever since he opened up to me, his mental state has improved, as if a barrier has been lifted, and his recovery has progressed drastically in just two weeks. He's still not back to a hundred percent, physically and mentally. It will take months and I don't think we're going to get back to where we were, but this is our second chance and we're making the most of it.

With a soft smile on my face, I turn my attention to Kyle, who is sitting in front of me at the island counter, snacking on some pretzels while scrolling on his phone. He takes his eyes off the screen and offers me a small smile. The two are slowly rebuilding their relationship after their ridiculous antics, still threatening each other, but moving in the right direction. I'm still a little shocked by the fact that they're legally brothers. It makes sense that Kyle's parents adopted Noah when he turned eighteen, but it is such a random piece of information that I didn't see it coming, though it does explain their somewhat bizarre bond.

"I think it's time for you to go back to New York, Kyle," I say and the smile falls from his face as he glances behind himself at Noah before turning his attention back to me.

"Are you sure?" He raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, I can handle it from here. He is doing well, and I think it is time for you to take a break as well."

Kyle nods. "If you say so. I'm just worried he might have another outburst. He's fine now, but…"

I sigh. "Even if he does, I can handle it. Besides, I think some time apart would be good for both of you."

"You're right about that." He grins and turns in his chair to steal another glance at Noah, who is out of earshot. "What about our little plan?" he asks, lowering his voice anyway to make sure he can't hear him, his eyebrows raised, forming deep lines on his forehead.

"I think we need to put that off for at least a little while longer."

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