Page 87 of Can You Take It?

“I think I’m saving him,” I respond firmly. “From me. From everything that comes with being involved with someone like me. Richard’s life is complicated enough without me adding to it.”

“You’re wrong, Izel. You’re not saving him. You’re denying him the chance to decide for himself. And in the process, you’redenying yourself the chance to be more than what you think you are.”

“Do you think he'll forgive me for committing murder?” I murmur absentmindedly.

Luna’s quiet for a moment, and when I glance at her, she’s looking down, avoiding my eyes. “You do realize that sooner rather than later, he is going to link all the kills back to you, right?”

I lean my head back, staring at the ceiling, letting her words sink in. I already know she’s right. I’ve known it for a while but hearing it out loud makes it feel more real, more inevitable. I lower my gaze back to Luna and meet her eyes head-on.

“Then I must hurry.”

“I don’t know what your endgame is here, but you better not make Richard be the one to take you out. He won’t survive it. You know that.”

I force a small smile that definitely looks fake. “Don’t worry, I don’t actually have a death wish.”

“You can’t stand being locked up. You ran the minute Lucas wasn’t looking, and you’ll do it again if you feel cornered.”

“You’re right, I can’t stand it. But I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again. For Richard. I owe him that much.”

I pivot sharply, my mind already set on leaving, but something makes me pause. I glance back at Luna, knowing I can’t just walk away without giving her the answer she’s been waiting for since this conversation started.

Turning fully to face her, I take a breath, letting the words settle in my mind before I speak.

“The body,” I say quietly. “I knew where it was hidden because I disposed of it.”

Luna's mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. The judgment in her eyes is unmistakable. I feel a cold knot tightenin my stomach as I wait for her to say something. But she remains silent.

I can’t stand the look she’s giving me. It’s full of pity, and I hate it. I hate when people look at me like that. It stings more than any words they could throw at me. It’s like my pain is too big for them to handle, so they just pretend it doesn’t exist, as if avoiding it will make it disappear. But it doesn’t. It never does.

Without another word, I turn on my heel and walk away. As I reach the door, a single tear escapes and traces a path down my cheek. I wipe it away quickly, refusing to let it be seen.

I pause for a moment, gathering myself. Taking a deep breath, I push the door open and step out. I keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other, because stopping means thinking, and thinking means feeling, and I can’t afford that right now.

The night air is cool as I crouch in front of Liam's apartment door, picking the lock with practiced ease. Martin’s voice buzzes in my ear like an annoying mosquito.

“C’mon, Izel. Hurry up. Liam could be back any second.”

“Maybe if you’d been watching him, we wouldn’t have to worry about him coming back any second,” I mutter under my breath, focusing on the lock. The pins click into place, and I give the knob a turn. “By the way, what the fuck were you doing while I was busy with Luna?”

“Uh, I was... doing surveillance,” Martin says, clearly pulling an excuse out of his ass.

I roll my eyes. “You lying sack of shit. If Liam walks in on me, I’ll feed you to the wolves, I swear.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry.”

I slip inside, closing the door softly behind me. I scan the living room, my eyes darting over the mess. Beer bottles, dirty clothes, and discarded food containers litter the floor. Typical.

I start with the drawers in the coffee table, rifling through them quickly. Old receipts, unpaid bills, and a stash of weed. Nothing useful. I move to the bookshelf, searching behind the few books that are more for show than reading.

“What exactly are you looking for?”

“A USB drive,” I mutter.

“Are you sure Victor gave you the right information this time? I mean, he’s given you false leads like fourteen times.”

“Not like I have a choice, do I? Now shut the fuck up and let me work,” I snap, tossing aside a pile of old magazines.

I move to the desk in the corner, yanking open the drawers. Pens, paperclips, more useless shit. I’m about to give up when I spot a small, locked drawer at the bottom. Bingo.

---