Page 43 of Pit

“Scum,” Pit mutters, taking out a knife from his back pocket. He removes the leather sheath, and I stare wide-eyed as I back away a few steps.

“I don’t regret anything,” the man spits, suddenly sounding angry. “It’s natural. In some countries, it’s legal.”

“Then you should have moved,” snaps Pit, gripping the man by the collar. He doesn’t fight, and I stare, mesmerised at how calm he looks considering his situation.

“You shouldn’t judge me, biker, until you’ve felt the buzz of that tight little pussy—” Pit slices the knife across the man’s cheek, carving a line from one ear to the other. I back away a few more steps until I hit the wall. My chest tightens, and as bloodpours down the man’s chin, I grip my stomach, praying I don’t vomit into the helmet.

“Iamjudging you,” sneers Pit, and I see the man I first met, that cold and angry biker. “And when I get to hell, I’ll make your life misery.” He pushes the knife between the man’s legs, and he gurgles in pain, his eyes rolling back into his head. Pit twists the knife, causing the man to jerk before he passes out. I watch in horror as Pit drags the blade from the man’s groin, up through his stomach, only stopping when the blade snags on something. Then he pulls it free and slices the man’s throat.

I rush out the room, pulling at my helmet and throwing it to the floor before dropping down beside it and vomiting onto the dirty carpet. I squeeze my eyes closed, picturing the blood spilling from the man and onto the floor. More vomit leaves me, and I sit back on my feet, wiping my mouth across my sleeve.

I feel Pit’s presence behind me. “He deserved it,” he mutters.

Rage replaces the sickness as I push to my feet, shoving him hard in the chest. “You fucking bastard,” I scream.

“Remember what I said,” he hisses. “You have to be quiet.”

“In case I wake the fucking dead?” I yell, shoving him again. He doesn’t budge, which frustrates me more. “Why did you bring me here?”

“Two reasons,” he says, not quite meeting my eyes. “The first, so you see who I really am. The second, because I’m following orders.”

“This is not who you are,” I cry. “You’re pushing me away because of what I said.” Tears begin to fall, and I swipe at them angrily. “I get it, you don’t want me, but you don’t have to make me watch this bullshit.”

He finally meets my eyes and that haze he had there while he sliced into that man is lifted, replaced with what I think is guilt. “You were sick,” he mutters, nodding to the stained carpet behind me. “Evidence you were here.”

I inhale sharply. “Fuck.”

“We need to leave.”

“Leave?” I repeat, panic setting in once again. “But I need to clean that up. If we use bleach or . . .” I flap my hands in panic, looking around me. “Maybe he has some,” I add, rushing for the nearest door and shoving it open. It’s the bathroom, and I go in, pulling open the cupboard and dragging the contents out onto the floor. “Shit, there’s nothing.” I glance back to find Pit leaning in the doorway, watching me. I can’t place the look on his face, but I know I don’t like it. I stand, turning to him. “Why aren’t you helping me?”

“This is my insurance,” he mutters. The ringing in my ears dials up a notch until it’s the only sound I hear over the thumping of my heart. “If you go to the police about anything, I’ll tie you into this murder.”

“But I . . . I didn’t . . .” My words trail off. The betrayal burns me so deep, it’s hard to breathe let alone say the words rushing through my mind.

“You were in the room while a man died and you did nothing, Tessa. You’re an accessory, and if I get caught for any of it, I’m taking you down with me.”

“But if they find my DNA here,” I whisper, the words sounding broken through my heavy breaths, “they’ll arrest me anyway.”

“Cleaners are on their way. But I have your pictures.” He holds out his mobile, and I stare at the image of me vomiting on the carpet.

“That doesn’t show murder,” I spit. “It shows me reacting to something I didn’t like.”

“Are you willing to take the risk, Te?” I’d fallen in love with the way he’d shortened my name, but right now, it makes my skin crawl. “I just need one more picture,” he adds, and the words feel like he’s forcing them out. He reaches for me, but I step back, almost slipping on the bathroom floor. He grabs me, yanking mefrom the room and shoving me into the living room. I freeze, staring at the man bleeding out as his dead eyes stare blankly at me. A sob escapes me, and I slam my hands over my mouth. The flash of a camera makes me look back to where Pit is snapping photos of me next to the body.

“No,” I scream, rushing at him but slipping and losing my footing. My hands save me as I crash to the ground, but I realise too late they’re in the blood and I slide, landing on my stomach. I lift my hand and stare at the sticky fluid. “Oh god,” I whisper. Then I scramble back, trying to stand but only covering myself further. “Shit,” I hiss.

Hands reach under my arms and I’m hauled to my feet. “We need to go,” he whispers, startling me.

He leads me towards the door, pushing my helmet onto my head as he opens it. I begin to wipe my hands down my leggings, discovering those are soaked in blood too, smearing it further up my arms. I sob silently as I climb on the bike. Instead of holding on to Pit, I grip the bar behind me. I don’t want any contact with him whatsoever. I hate him.

Chapter Eleven

Pit

She does everything she can to stop her body touching any part of me. Even as we round bends, she fights the natural law of gravity, keeping her thighs from clenching around me. Robert Woods was a paedophile, but he was also a well-respected man in his community. A school caretaker who managed to secure a place on the governor’s board, embedding himself deeper into the heart of his very own playground. He ran workshops for the kids who struggled to learn. He offered fishing trips to kids who couldn’t control their behaviour or temper, telling them it was therapeutic.

His sick games only came to light a week ago, when the headteacher’s grandson, now twenty-six years old, came forward and exposed everything. It was embarrassing for the school and more so for the governors. We were paid a lot of money to make the problem go away as quietly as possible. But I can’t tell Tessa any of that. I needed that evidence as much as I need to let her go. Axel is right, I can’t risk her rushing to the police the secondshe gets her freedom back. And at least this way, she keeps her life.

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