Page 47 of Grave Intentions

My assailant is a dark, imposing figure towering over me. The mask is the same one the man wore at the club.

I stare at the masked man, David's lifeless body crumpled at his feet. My heart pounds as I try to piece together what just happened. He removes his hand.

"Who... who are you?" I manage to choke out.

The man remains silent, his chest rising and falling with each breath. There's something vaguely familiar about his build andhow he carries himself. An odd flicker of hope ignites in my gut. "Talon?" I whisper, hardly daring to believe it.

He doesn't respond, but I can feel the intensity of his gaze even through the mask. I search his face for any recognition, but he gives nothing away.

Before I can say anything else, he brings a damp cloth over my nose and mouth. A sickly sweet scent invades my senses, making my head swim.

I thrash wildly, trying to break free, but his grip is like iron. Black spots dance before my vision as the world starts to spin. My eyelids grow heavy, and I feel myself slipping away into unconsciousness.

The last thing I see is his striking blue eyes glinting through the mask's eyeholes, watching me as the darkness claims me.

32

TALON

Lena’s chest rises and falls softly as the drugs pull her into unconsciousness. My hands shake with adrenaline, blood dripping from my fingers onto the hardwood floor. David’s corpse lies twisted at my feet, his vacant eyes staring at nothing.

A surge of satisfaction courses through me at the sight. He got what he deserved for daring to touch what’s mine. The knife in my hand feels heavy with righteous purpose. No one will ever hurt my girl again.

I need to focus. The body won’t dispose of itself, but my gaze keeps drifting back to Lena, vulnerable and perfect. The urge to claim her wars with my need to protect her. Not yet, not like this. First, I have work to do.

Grabbing my latex gloves, I slip them on. I take David’s cell phone, I grab my knife, peel up his eyelids, and use his vacant gaze to unlock the phone. And then, I enter the settings and remove the lock from his screen so that I can send a text to Lena from another location, placing him elsewhere. Pocketing the phone, I focus on the body.

I wrap David’s body in a shower curtain, using duct tape to seal him inside. The copper tang of blood fills my nostrils asI scrub the floor. Each swipe of bleach erases the stains of his existence. Good. Let him fade away like he never existed.

My hands work methodically, cleaning every surface while my mind races. The cemetery will be the perfect place—poetic justice for him to rot among the other dead in an unmarked grave. I’ve already picked out the spot.

I pause to brush a strand of hair from Lena’s face. “Sleep well, princess. He’ll be nothing but a bad dream when you wake up.” The possessive fire in my chest burns brighter. Soon, she’ll be mine completely, just as it was always meant to be.

Time to move. I hoist David’s body over my shoulder, triumphant at how limp and powerless he is now. No more will his hands bring bruises to her skin. I’ve made sure of that.

The night awaits, ready to swallow all evidence of what transpired here. By morning, no one will know what happened to David Collins. But I’ll know. And I’ll savor the memory of his final breaths.

I carry David’s body to my waiting van, having already lined the cargo area with thick plastic sheets. Months of planning have prepared me for this moment. The wrapped corpse lands with a satisfying thud as I slide it inside.

My tool kit waits beside the body—everything needed to ensure no trace remains. Latex gloves, industrial-grade cleaning supplies, bone saw, and containers of acid. Nothing left to chance.

First, I need to text Lena from his cell and ditch it at the club. So, I drive to one of the clubs I know David often goes to and slip the van down a back alley behind it, ensuring that the security camera to view the dumpster is blocked by the van. I send Lena a text, ensuring it sounds genuine to David.

Going out. Won’t be back until late.

Keeping the engine running and the hood over my masked face, I get out and toss the cell phone into the dumpster before sliding back into the van on the other side.

From there, the drive to the cemetery takes fifteen minutes. I’ve mapped every security camera and potential witness location. The route I’m using avoids them all. The van’s plates are stolen, and they are switched regularly. The vehicle itself is unremarkable—just another work van in the night.

The grave I’ve prepared sits in a remote corner, disguised as fresh maintenance work. The hole is deep—eight feet down. Deeper than standard plots. I drag David’s body to the edge and roll it in. The acid comes next, carefully poured to accelerate decomposition. The chemicals will destroy DNA, dental records, and anything identifying him.

Thankfully, this graveyard is out of the way and there are no residential buildings nearby. Rushing to the equipment shed, I jump onto the mini backhoe I used the other night to dig the hole. Hotwiring it, I drive it toward the hole and use it to layer dirt and quicklime as I fill the grave. Each shovelful is calculated to look natural when the ground settles. I’ve even brought matching grass sod to lay over the top. By morning, it will look undisturbed.

Back at the van, I strip off my clothes and seal them in a bag for burning later. The tools get cleaned meticulously. I wear new clothes and fresh gloves. Everything that touched the body or grave site goes into industrial waste containers, to be disposed of across different locations over the next week.

One final area sweep with a UV light confirms no blood trail remains. The ground is smoothed, and grass is in place. Even knowing where to look, I can barely spot the grave. Perfect.

I allow myself a small smile as I drive away. They’ll never find him. And even if they somehow did, there’s nothing to connect it back to me or Lena. I’ve made sure of that.

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