Page 188 of I Will Break You

He nods. “Now.”

I glance from Xero to Jynxson to the phone he extracts fromhis pocket. “Do you still think they want me?” When he doesn’t answer, I add, “But you said you’d protect me from the studio.”

“Five of the men they sent after you have failed to return. They won’t take that lightly. And everyone living here in the catacombs learns self-defense.”

“But I don’t live here.”

The moment I say those words, I cringe. Xero was there when Mom not only screamed about auctioning the house, but implied she had been waiting for the day she could finally cut me loose. In forty-eight hours, I’ll live nowhere.

“Are you sure about that, little ghost?”

My insides twist into painful knots. I’m all alone. Myra is too freaked out by the date rape and murder-suicide to deal with my troubles. Dad may or may not exist. And Relaney is probably still behind bars for running a cannabis farm. My only ally in the world is my stalker and his band of assassins, who are only keeping me alive so he can get his revenge.

This is too painful, too bleak, too real. My fingers twitch toward the overnight bag. I need a few pills to soften the edges. What am I saying? It’s the same medication that blurred my judgment, leading me to get social-media famous enough to attract the attention of snuff movie makers.

Slamming a lid on my self-pity, I curl my hands into fists and meet Xero’s stern gaze.

“You’re right,” I say, mustering every ounce of bravado. “Show me what I need to see.”

Jynxson saves us from watching the prologue. The video starts with shots of an apartment building’s exterior before switching to footage from the men’s body cameras as they move through the hallways.

One of them knocks on a door, holding a parcel, while the other stands out of sight.

“Joanna Mazek?” the one at the door asks.

“Who is it?” replies a familiar voice.

“XCS with a package for you that needs signing,” he says.

“Hold on a second.”

The video cuts to the door, which swings open to reveal a middle-aged woman with bleached blonde hair, over-pluckedbrows, and dark circles beneath her eyes. It takes a moment for me to recognize this is Lizzie Bath without all the makeup.

Her gaze drops to the parcel for a millisecond before she’s shoved backward with a hand clamped over her mouth. After that, it’s a crazy montage of close-ups, long shots, and mid-shots of her struggling against her attacker. It looks like his partner took the time to set up a tripod.

Throughout this, Xero’s gaze burns holes into the side of my face. He’s studying my reaction, seeing if I’ll break. If Lizzie died because of me, I can’t shy away from watching. Someone has to witness what she suffered. I keep my features in a tight mask, not wanting to show any weakness.

Lizzie’s apartment is a studio barely larger than my kitchen, with white appliances that have yellowed over time. After gagging and restraining her, the men throw her bound body on a threadbare sofa before rifling through her closets.

“Are they robbing her, too?” I ask.

“You don’t know?” Xero asks.

I tear my gaze off the footage. “Know what?”

“They need the outfit and wigs she wears on camera to perform. Otherwise, she’s just an ordinary woman who means nothing to the viewers.”

“He’s right,” Jynxson mutters. “Xero’s execution video had the shortest prologue because he’d already gone viral.”

In other words, they broke into Lizzie Bath’s apartment because she’s attached to Xero’s popularity. More specifically, they went after her because they couldn’t find me.

I sway on my feet, my chest squeezing so tightly that my lungs reduce to a quarter of their capacity. Shallow breaths whistle in and out of my nostrils, barely providing enough oxygen to stay upright.

Shit.

What if I jinxed Lizzie with all my resentment?

Xero’s lips graze my ears. “Focus on the restraints. What are they using?”

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