Page 69 of The Girl and the Cobra

“That’s for putting Mabel’s life in danger,” I growl out the words. Part of me expects a retaliation of some sort, so I remain poised and ready for a fight. To be honest, I’ve been dying to fight Wolf from the get-go.

It’s fast, so fast someone like Mabel would miss it, but I’m not a normal person. I’m perceptive to a fault, so I see it even though it lasts a millisecond: Wolf’s demeanor cracks, and I get a quick flash of the inner monster inside of him. The look of a psychopath. Dangerous. Angry. Volatile.

But just like that, the twisted expression fades and Wolf bends to pick up his glasses. When he does so, he holds his glasses up in the headlights and sees that one lens is cracked thanks to me, and all he says is, “A pity.”

Does he mean it’s a pity I broke his glasses, or it’s a pity that Mabel is still alive? Maybe he really did expect me to reach her too late. Maybe he wanted to see me lose it all over again, some kind of sick, monstrous game.

I don’t say a word, and neither does Mabel. She does, however, glance between us, making it obvious she’s a little confused.

Wolf tells me, “Take Mabel to the house. I’ll handle this one.” His shoe nudges the leg of the unconscious man.

He doesn’t have to tell me twice, but Mabel says, “Wait. Shouldn’t we call the cops?”

All Wolf does is smirk for a fast second before saying, “Just let me worry about him, all right? It’s probably best if we don’t discuss this night and what happened with anyone outside of this circle.”

Mabel is still unsure, and as much as I hate to align with Wolf about anything, he’s right about this: cops would be bad news. We don’t want them. So, I take Mabel’s hand and guide her to the front passenger seat of Wolf’s car. I help her inside, and then I get into the driver’s seat after tossing the hunting rifle into the back.

As I back the car up, the only thing Wolf does is give us a wave.

Whatever. I’m just dying to be alone with Mabel and have the house to ourselves for a bit. It means we can be as loud as we want.

Chapter Thirty – Mabel

I’d be lying if I say my heart doesn’t still beat like it did when I stared down Robert Hayes over the barrel of that hunting rifle as Tristan drives us home. The more I think about it, the crazier and weirder it all is—how did he find me? I deactivated all of my social media, and my dad’s too lame to ever make a profile anywhere. It isn’t like we moved thirty minutes away. We literally moved states.

And then Dr. Wolf doesn’t think we should tell the police, or my dad, for that matter. When he first said it, I was a bit confused, but now that I have some more time to think about it, I guess it makes sense.

Getting the police involved could put Tristan in danger. It’d put me and my dad in the spotlight again, and let everyone in this town know about Jordan once someone connected the dots. My dad likes it here; I don’t want him to lose that.

And, I think as I tilt my head toward Tristan as he drives us along dark, winding roads,I like it here, too.

Tristan loves me. And I love him. It’s the strangest thing. I never thought…

Facing my own mortality for the second time in my life made me realize how much more to life there can be. I know now how badly I want it. And the truth of the matter is, I don’t know whether I’d feel the same if Tristan wasn’t in my life.

Tristan must sense I’m staring at him, because he takes a hand off the wheel and sets it on my leg, squeezing gently. He tosses me a fast glance before saying, “How are you feeling now?”

I place a hand atop his, feeling his warmth seeping into me at all angles. “Better, but I still don’t understand why Dr. Wolf put trackers in my shoes. Kind of seems like a violation of privacy,but at the same time, if he wouldn’t have done it, I’d be dead right now. I can’t really be too upset.”

He’s quiet for a while, but he’s thinking hard. I can tell there’s a lot he wants to say, but he’s trying not to—maybe his feelings about Dr. Wolf tainted them. Eventually he says, “I’m just glad you’re not hurt. If I would’ve lost you…” He heaves a sigh that I feel in my core.

I squeeze his hand. “But you didn’t. Thank you for not killing him. You did the right thing.”

“Did I? The asshole was going to put a bullet in you, Mabel. He should know how it feels.” Speaking as a killer himself, I bet he believes death is the only answer to some of life’s important questions.

“He just wants someone to blame.”

“You can blame someone without killing them, believe it or not.”

“I know, but… I am the reason his son is dead.” I close my eyes. “That list… his son was number one—a jerk who made my life hell in high school. Making fun of me every day, constantly.”

Tristan’s voice comes out quiet when he says, “Just because you put him on a list doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

“It’s not just the list. That day, when Jordan killed all those people… he messaged me and asked where I was. Our class wasn’t in our normal classroom. We were working on papers in the computer lab. I didn’t think anything of it, so I told him. I’m the reason he broke into the library and shot Robbie. He knew Robbie was in my English class.”

“Mabel—”

I can tell Tristan is trying to comfort me, but I’m not done confessing yet. I keep going: “After he killed Robbie, Jordan smiled at me and said, ‘That one’s for you, sis.’ Everyone else heard it. Someone even recorded it.” The strong emotions inside me threaten to well up and spill over, and I struggle to keep thetears at bay. “They were the last words Jordan ever spoke. He was shot right in front of me, right after he said it.”

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