None of this would even be happening if I hadn’t stopped Rosco from touching Finley in the alley that night. I’d interfered with Javier’s right-hand man, making the situation spiral out of control. There was no other choice but to murder Rosco. There’s no other choice but to murder every single person I need to until she’s safe. If that meant killing Javier and his men, then I would.
It wouldn’t stop with Finley, I know that. My family would be next.
Risking my life for a girl I’ve known for a month. Fucking idiot.
As much as I will myself to think that way, I can’t. It’s my fault she’s a part of this. It all stems back to owing Javier money. Rosco would’ve never cornered me in that alley that first night I’d laid eyes on Finley if I’d paid the fucker back quicker. I had plenty of money, but his stipulation made it all irrelevant. I had gotten the teaching position at the university, but it still wasn’t good enough. All Javi cares about is the cash, and now that Rosco is dead, it only permanently fixates the target on my back.
“Well. May the best man win, huh?”
I don’t even give him any time to respond before my hands clasp around his throat, squeezing so hard, my hands shake as I watch the light slowly fade from his widened eyes, which only grow more heavy-lidded as his clawing hands fall to his sides.
It never gets any easier to take a life, no matter how many times I do it. I just learn to compartmentalize a little better each time. Instead of the dread, all that’s left is numbness. After wallowing in guilt the first few times, I’d learned it’s best to just let it go.
It was just a job then. It’s just a job now.
I repeat the mantra over and over again in my mind as I drag the lifeless body across the street, my eyes scanning the dark scenery around me for any signs of life that could be witnessing something they shouldn’t. It’s so quiet, even the crickets can’t be heard. Stuffing the guy into my trunk, hiding him beneath a ragged old blanket for good measure, I straighten my shoulders as I suck in a deep breath.
Two hundred and two.
Slamming the trunk shut, I leave the dead body and the worries that come with it behind me as I walk back toward Finley’s apartment.
Chapter Sixteen
FINLEY
SATURDAY, OCTOBER 14TH, 2023
Igroan softly as I watch my mother’s infamous pasta sauce burn in the frying pan on top of my stove, palming my forehead tiredly as I twist the knob until the burner turns off. I knew it wasn’t the best idea to try and replicate the nearly perfect sauce, especially considering my track record with cooking, but I pathetically wanted to impress Luca. What could go wrong with a simple pasta dish?
Apparently, a lot.
And I don’t even know if he’s going to show up. Totally humiliating, Finn. Really nice.
It’s beyond humiliating. I’ve officially peaked on the pitiful scale—was there even a word worse than absolutely mortifying? I may as well have gotten on my hands and knees to beg him to come over. That thought was devastating. My perfectionist brain is trying to sabotage me, making me overthink every little thing until it all results in a monumental disaster.
It started with the ultimate battle of what clothes to wear. Something cute, but not cute enough to be obvious. Somethingcomfy, but not gremlin status. Eventually, I settled on an oversized sweater with a pair of black yoga pants, seemingly unsatisfiedstillafter staring at myself aimlessly in the mirror for ten minutes straight. Then, my hair wouldn’t cooperate for a messy bun. Every time I whipped it up onto my head, it looked wrong. It would’ve looked just fine if no one was coming over. But no, my baby hairs wanted to stick out in every direction possible and make me look like a troll who just crawled from underneath a bridge.
Who cares what I look like?
He’s coming over to help with my paper. That’s all.
A grimace flickers across my features as the thought pops into my head. Of course that isn’t it at all. I wanted any reason to be around him again—hell, I begged him for it, just to be in the same vicinity as the man who made me come, breathing hot and heavy in my ear as he whispered dirty things. The echo of his voice inside my head warms my cheeks.
A round of knocks against my front door makes me flinch, tugging me harshly back to the present as I shift the frying pan into the sink as smoke slowly billows from the burnt sauce.
“Come in!”
I hear the door open as I run the cold water over the pan, jumping back with a squeak as it sizzles loudly.
“Why is your door unlocked?” Luca’s deep voice questions irritably behind me. “It’s not safe, Finley. What’s the point of having locks if you don’t use them?”
Spinning around meekly, my bottom lip tugs between my teeth. His dark eyes soften partially at my expression, only to widen at the smoke wafting behind me, his lips parting in confusion. Even on a Saturday, he dons a button-down shirt that tucks neatly into his khakis. His sleeves are rolled slightly, and my eyes immediately flicker down to his forearms, igniting the obscene thoughts in my mind once more.
“Is something burning?”
His messy hair brushes his ears, a disarray of curls on top of his head, the same color as his mustache and five o’clock shadow that cascades along his jaw and cheeks. My stomach churns excitedly at the sight of him. He’s too handsome for his own good, formyown good.
I nod. “Dinner.”