Page 53 of Devotion

Layla

“Hispanic male. Looks to be in his mid-thirties,” Stevens says, filling Mack in as they approach the first victim any of us have seen in weeks with the telltale web carved into their chest.

“We can’t catch a fucking break.” Mack lets out a sharp breath, then tilts his head. “Shit, is it just me, or does this poor schmuck look a little like Diego?”

To punctuate the joke, Mack jabs Martinez in his ribs, but he’s the only one laughing.

“Funny. And next time the vic’s a balding, soft-around-the-middle knuckle dragger, I’ll make sure to point outyourtwin,” Martinez shoots back.

“Aww come on. You can’t take a joke anymore? You’re going soft on me these days.”

“Whatever, Mack. Fuck you.”

I ignore the pissing match and line up my shot, happy to have pictures to take to keep me occupied while these two bicker back and forth.

The shutter clicks, and I continue staring at the victim through the lens. He does bear a striking resemblance to Martinez, from his low trimmed haircut, to his dark eyes, right down to his build. I study the carvings on his chest, noting that these seem deeper than usual. As if there was less control this time.

More…anger.

I snap another shot before zoning out again. My thoughts wander back to the night one week ago, when my world collided with Damien’s. Reconciling that version of him withthisone brings on an immediate tension headache. But my body responds strangely now as I hold an image of him in my head. My skin prickles with goosebumps. Yes, at the thought of how insane I must be that I even let him touch me, but there’s also the fact that I enjoyed it.

That Imore thanenjoyed it.

I came on his fingers for fuck’s sake and haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

If he’s sick, a depraved monster, then what the hell does that make me?

My camera lowers, and before I can lock in on another shot, Martinez and I make eye contact. Mostly, we’ve avoided each other like the plague. I’ve caught him talking shit about me on more than one occasion, spilling the details of the secret we spent months concealing to our colleagues. So, when I don’t force my gaze in a different direction this time, he lowers his head in shame.

Fucking asshole.

No sooner than I can lift the camera, I hear footsteps coming closer. And much to my disappointment, it’s Martinez. With his lack of an expression, it’s hard to tell what energy he’s leading with, but my expectations aren’t high.

“Hey,” he says quietly, but I don’t respond. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing I’m interested in hearing is an apology for bringing our private lives into the workplace.

He sighs, scratching his chin before continuing.

“Listen, I know I’ve been a dick lately—”

I scoff before he can even finish, thinking of at least five phrases that would better capture the level of dick-tivity he’s ascended to. And lately? Try always. He’salwaysbeen a dick, but that’s on me for putting up with that shit.

“I just—”

“Fuck off, Martinez.” I mean to keep my voice low, but when Stevens and Mack glance over, I’m guessing they heard. “You’re aware that I know you’ve been talking shit about me to the guys, right? People Iwork with?People whose respect I’ve spent far too long trying to earn?”

“Shit, Layla. I’m trying to apologize.”

When I finally meet his gaze, I sigh in frustration. And fuck him for trying to look sorrowful, like he actually has a soul.

“I would’ve given you more time, more room to breathe before trying to talk things out, but… there was a notification. It popped up on my phone this morning, reminding me about tonight.”

Without having to rack my brain, I know he’s talking about Dove’s engagement dinner.

“I guess it just got me thinking about us,” he adds, and I can’t help but to flinch at that word.

Us.

I’m quieter when I speak again, more in control of my emotions. “I’m not interested in whatever this is you’re trying to pull, so just… don’t.”

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