Page 83 of Demise

“You killed her? You killed Annie Williams?”

“Technically, yes,” he says. “Officially, she was still drunk from the party, fell down the stairs, and cracked her head open.”

I wait for horror to fill me, disgust or anger. I wait for that fight or flight urge to run rampant inside me, demanding I get myself away from this psychotic maniac as fast as possible. Instead, I just shake my head.

“What if you get caught? What if—”

His finger comes to my lips, silencing me immediately.

“I never get caught, siren. You had a problem, I fixed it. Just say thank you,” he says before pressing his lips to mine.

For some moronic reason, I kiss him back. Not only do I kiss him back, though, I enjoy it. I feel thankful, grateful even. It’s one thing to have a man who will protect you. It’s another who will so easily kill for you. Not for your protection, but for your peace, for your heart. The fact that he went over there without another word, murdered a woman just so she wouldn’t marry one of my other boyfriends…you can’t make this shit up.

“You okay?” Wesley asks, and I tear my mouth away from Vincent to see him nod.

“It’s better this way,” Ronan says, a coldness to his eyes as he crosses the room to Vincent and me, holding out his hand for him.

Vincent doesn’t move for several seconds before he shakes Ronan’s hand. He doesn’t say thank you, but he doesn’t need to either. You can see it written all over Ronan’s face. I can also see the morality battle he’s currently fighting. Ronan is kind and caring. He doesn’t wish death on those that don’t deserve it. Was Annie awful? Absolutely. Did she deserve to die? Probably not. Will I cry at her funeral? Absolutely the fuck not.

Chapter Twenty Seven

Wesley

News of Annie Williams’ death spread quickly, and her father was out for blood. He insisted that it was murder, but when the tox screen came back and her blood alcohol level was .25, he was silenced almost immediately. It’s an embarrassing look, a soon to be bride dying from being too shit faced and stumbling down the stairs; at least, that’s how everyone views it.

I’m sure Vincent poured more liquor down her throat to get that BAL up. She was buzzed during the party but seemed to sober up rather quickly. Unless she went home and started slamming vodka shots, I doubt it was all her own doing.

Honestly, I expected Skyla to flip when I realized what Vincent had done. To everyone’s surprise, not only did she not freak out, she seemed kind of grateful. It just showed that our girl has a much darker streak than I think any of us anticipated. One that honestly might just be her saving grace if she wants to survive in this world.

I’m currently waiting to pick her up at the university. Adjusting to this more relaxed pace of living has been an adjustment. When Ronan called me about coming back toSalem, I almost didn’t answer the call. I had been discharged for two years, unbeknownst to the Brethren, and I planned on keeping it that way. There was something in his voice, though. Something desperate, and I knew he needed me.

Little did I know, I’d end up finding the love of my fucking life. Yeah, I said it. Skyla is the love of my life. I don’t care how improbable that seems, and fuck no, I haven’t told her. Where would I find the time in between the stalker, the kidnapping, and the four other guys always attached to her hip? We barely got started before she was taken, something I still feel responsible for and probably always will. I’m always meticulous, my guard is never dropped, but she…she is the exception, and it’s dangerous for us all.

The unfortunate thing about being back in Salem is that the Brethren believe I am their own personal PI. I mean, to be fair, being born into an Elder family means I am whatever the Brethren wants me to be until I’m rotting six feet under. Sometimes, I think it was a mistake to come back. I flew under the radar. I was offered an opportunity to leave Salem, an opportunity not many were given. My father was a large factor in that. He and my uncle were both SEALs when they graduated from Gallows Hill, and they said it made them the leaders they are today.

Like so many, my mom died when I was young. Officially, it was a car accident, but everyone in the Brethren knows the truth. My parents supposedly had a rough marriage, and it’s no coincidence that the police were called the night before my mother was found dead in the street for a domestic disturbance.

My father had his heir and no use for my mother. Poof. Gone.

I haven’t even spoken to my father since I’ve been back in Salem, and honestly, I prefer it that way. We never had any semblance of a relationship, and neither of us try to pretend otherwise.

The singular reason I haven’t slipped off in the middle of the night and faked my death begins walking towards me, forcing my heart to skip a beat in my chest as I slide out of the driver’s seat. Her face lights up as she sees me, and I can’t help but match her grin.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Putnam,” I tease.

She rolls her eyes as she slides into the backseat. “God, not you, too.”

“What’s the matter? You don’t like being Asher’s wife?”

“No, it’s actually pretty great,” she smiles as I shut her door and climb back into the car.

“Where to?” I ask.

“Wherever you want.”

I lift a brow in the rearview mirror.

“Liam is having dinner at his parents’ house, Asher and Ronan are at Christopher’s, and Vincent is off doing…whatever Vincent does. I’m all yours.”

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