Page 66 of The Ripper

“I’m just trying to understand what we’re walking into.”

I had to remind myself that I was in a car with a criminal who didn’t have a drop of compassion for victims, one who judged murder differently than most people. I was sure that the few drops of empathy he had were reserved for me, and while that was endearing, for a single moment I wished he was a little more in touch with his feelings. A wish that would never come true due to his disposition, and as I looked at him from the passenger seat, I realized that my wish was stupid, because I didn’t want him to change. Not really.

Monsters didn’t love, at least not like normal people did.

Monsters obsessed, chased and possessed.

That’s what he did with me.

He became obsessed after he noticed me, chased me around for six years, and he was now on his quest to possess me. And I wanted the obsession, the chase, and the possession.

All three of them.

I wanted him to be so obsessed with me that a minute without me would be a minute of agony for him.

As I thought about Fleur’s situation, I finally admitted to myself that I wanted him to be cold, calm, monstrous, even. I loved that he had no moral compass and that he would have done anything to protect me, and although I assumed he was capable of terrible things, I knew in my core that those terrible things would never be directed at me.

My own thoughts scared me, and I didn’t say anything else during the drive.

When he stopped the car in front of Fleur’s house, he looked at me for a few moments, then sighed.

Thankfully, it was remote enough, as it was situated in an area that wasn’t very populated, where houses were distanced from each other, but the risk of being seen was still there, especially since we were in broad daylight.

I munched on my lips nervously, sinking my nails into my palms, and Grimm reached for something in the back seat, which he placed on my lap before lighting a cigarette.

“Put this on and pull the hood over your head when we get out of the car,” he said without looking at me.

“What about you?”

“They can’t get to me,” he said confidently. “Even if someone sees me and testifies against me,” he turned to me, blowing the smoke up. “But they could easily get to you, and I would rather die than let that happen.”

I nodded and pulled on the hoodie, then got out of the car while he followed behind me. He smoked casually and looked around, analyzing the surroundings as I walked up the four steps leading up Fleur’s porch.

I knocked and kept my head down.

“Fleur, it’s me,” I reassured her before she opened the door a crack.

Her eyes glanced quickly at the man standing behind me like a dark cloud, shielding me from view if anyone were to pass, protecting me like body armor.

“It’s okay, he’s here to help.”

She nodded briefly, then let us in, and as soon as we entered the house, she closed the door and locked it, then slowly turned to us.

“I’m so sorry, Ari, I didn’t know who else to call,” she whimpered, and my soul cracked.

When I looked at her, my heart twisted in my chest. She was wearing a gray, flimsy T-shirt that was torn from the hem up to her chest, her bare legs covered in cuts, dried blood mixed with fresh blood, scratches, and brutal bruises. One of her arms was full of small circular scars, reminiscent of old cigarette burns, while the other hung unnaturally, and her wrists seemed to have been tied.

I covered my mouth when I noticed the finger marks on her neck, then her split lip and the cut on her right cheekbone. Her right eye was almost black, and some of her red hair had been cut in jagged lines. She walked with a limp and was so malnourished that every bone in her body stood out, and I wondered when she’d last eaten.

Guilt took over me because I didn’t insist on seeing her in the last few months, and every time we spoke on the phone, she told me that she was alright, that things were settling down.

Apparently, the only thing settling down was her fight for freedom.

Grimm pressed a palm to my back and gave me a gentle shove in her direction, and that’s when I realized I was stuck in place, staring at her as if she were a ghost.

I was so glad she killed him.

“It’s okay.” I hesitantly put an arm around her shoulders and led her to the couch.

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