Page 180 of I Will Break You

Blood drips from my arm onto the floor, making me grimace. One downside of allowing myself to get arrested last time was getting my DNA into the system. Tyler has already deleted it from the FBI’s central database, but there’s no guarantee that other parties haven’t made copies or backups.

So, I seethe behind the door, silently urging my little ghost to return.

As if sensing my malicious intent, she turns back to the door and grimaces.

“Amethyst?” Heavy footsteps approach from the house next door, belonging to the flirtatious priest. “Is everything alright?”

“Tell him,” Melonie hisses. “Confess your sins.”

Amethyst turns to the priest and rubs the back of her head. “It’s nothing. Just a family squabble.”

His brow furrows, and he glances from mother to daughter. “Are you sure? If there’s anything I can do to help?—”

“Someone needs to talk sense into this girl,” Melonie snaps. “Before it’s too late and she gets herself killed.”

The priest stands befuddled, looking like he wants to pull Amethyst into a hug. We researched Reverend Thomas Dinsdale the moment he appeared on the radar, and he’s clean.

His background is unremarkable, from his two-parent family in a middle-class neighborhood to the athletic scholarship he received to study theology at New Alderney University.

After he earned a Master's degree in Divinity, the church fast-tracked him into the priesthood, where he served as an associate pastor at St. Clement’s Church before being appointed to St. Anne’s in the cemetery. His denomination allows priests to marry, but there’s no sign of a girlfriend. And he doesn’t seem interested in men.

“Let’s talk about this inside.” Reverend Thomas ushers them toward Mrs. Baker’s house.

I grind my teeth, resisting the urge to storm out and grab my little ghost. At the first sight of a six-foot-six man in black, concealing his features behind a mask, one of the assholes will call the police. Especially with Melonie screaming that I assaulted her daughter.

Amethyst backs toward the house. “No, thank you,” she says to the priest. “We don’t need any help.”

“You’re sure?” the reverend asks, his gaze lingering on her gown’s neckline.

I step forward, wanting to garrote the pathetic opportunist with his collar. Amethyst is mine.

Melonie strides to her turquoise Aston Martin. “Forty-eight hours. That’s how long you have to vacate my house before I list it for auction.”

“You can’t do this, Mom.”

“I should have institutionalized you a long time ago.”

Amethyst charges at her mother, still holding the knife.

“Get away from me, you psychopath.” Melonie dives into her car.

The street fills with shocked gasps, and adrenaline kicks me in the gut. Ignoring all caution, I rush out through the door, grab Amethyst by the waist, and lift her off her feet.

“Let go of me, you asshole!” she screeches.

Before Reverend Thomas or any other of Parisii Drive’s busybodies can interfere, I’ve already carried her into the hallway and slammed the door shut.

Amethyst slashes at my face as I set her down, but I grab her wrist before the blade strikes.

“You filmed us!” she screams. “Then you posted the footage online.”

“I didn’t.”

“Stop lying.” She swipes a clawed hand at my eyes, which I also catch.

Rage twists her pretty features, and she thrashes in my grip, trying to free her arms. When that doesn’t work, she rams her head into my midsection.

“I hate you,” she yells. “You’re ruining my life.”

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