Page 9 of Moth to a Flame

I’m here for him.

I scope the apartment, treading lightly to silence the sound of my boots on his cheap linoleum floor. No kids, thank fuck, but there is a woman. She lies beneath the covers of the only bedroom in the apartment, her blonde hair splayed on the pillows.

Maybe he isn’t cheating on her. Maybe they have an open relationship. Whatever. None of my business. Come tomorrow, they’ll be nothing.

As quietly as possible, I close the door behind me and return to the living room. I stand between the sleeping Marshall and the coffee table, staring down at him.

It really is too bad that I can’t stay here longer. What a disappointment. The feeling is strong as I grasp the handle of my knife. I’ll have to be efficient to not risk the woman in the bedroom waking up.

That’s fucking unfortunate.

That’s also life.

My jaw tics. My hand clenches tighter around the knife.

No one messes with my girl but me. No one looks at her but. Me.

Wrath and obsession and killer instincts mix into a dangerous concoction.

They can push a man over the edge. Make him do all sorts of crazy things.

Other than kill her that is.

My hand goes to his mouth first. The blade nicks his throat at the same moment his eyes fly open.

A drop of blood glistens on the metal.

We’re off to a great start.

“Hi.” I grin.

The wicked smile must reach my black eyes because he tries to scramble back. Between me and the cushions, he’s not going anywhere.

“You stuck your nose where you shouldn’t have,” I whisper, slicing another half inch of his throat.

His lungs expand, and then he roars into my glove, his slimy fingers closing on my wrist.

One shake of my head and he freezes.

So obedient.

Pathetic.

“She may not be Regan…” I jerk my head to the bedroom, raising my eyebrows. “But she matters to you.”

His pupils are blown by the time I finish my underlying threat.

“Thought so.” He’s silent as I continue carving a red necklace on his throat. “I won’t touch her, as long as you play nice. And by nice, I mean shut the hell up while I kill you.”

Two tears roll from the corners of his eyes. Interesting. Didn’t see that one coming. He was oozing confidence when he talked to Regan.

Doesn’t look that way anymore.

“Regan is mine.” I’m close to his face, needing him to hear me. “No one else is allowed to look at her.” My lips stretch. “While they’re alive.”

His body breaks out in shivers, and the trickle of tears has transformed into a flood. I smell something rancid. One glance at the damp spot on his boxers solves the mystery for me.

Peeing himself. What a great way to depart this world.

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