Page 119 of The Beautiful Dead

CHAPTER 23

DOMINO

“You have some explaining to do.”

My voice was low, venomous, curling through the dim space like cigarette smoke. Ghost’s reflection in the window flinched before his body followed suit. The city outside stretched in murky streaks of neon and filth, a fitting backdrop to the stench of betrayal thickening the air between us.

He sauntered into my apartment, cocky as ever, but the moment the elevator doors shut behind him, his steps faltered. Good. He should be afraid.

His eyes snapped to mine, pupils flaring like a wounded animal catching the scent of blood. “What do you mean?”

He already knew. The fear creeping up his spine betrayed him before his words ever could.

I wanted to tell him the interesting things Remi shared with me last night as we washed Gallo blood from our skin. As I pressed my lips to his throat and tasted the iron of our shared violence. As I memorized every inch of him and knew—deep in my bones—that he was the only thing in this world I would never fucking share.

Instead, I exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose like I could smother the burning need to tear him apart with my bare hands. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I murmured, turning to face him fully.

Ghost swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as his mouth opened and closed.

Then, a whisper of movement. A flash of silver. His breath stuttered. Remi’s blade kissed the base of his throat.

“Where the fuck did you come from?” Ghost rasped, his skin grating against the edge of the knife. It wasn’t a question of where. It was a question of how much he could get away with before we gutted him. “You left.”

Remi snorted, tilting his head, letting the light catch the predatory glint in his ice-blue eyes. “You taught me a lot, Ghost… but I’ve learned more than you ever showed me.” With a flick of his wrist, the blade bit deeper, just enough to draw a thin trickle of crimson. Not enough to kill. Not yet. “You’ve gotten sloppy if you didn’t realize I looped your system. Tut tut.”

Ghost’s nostrils flared, his body tensing in barely restrained panic. “Fucking, fuck! You’re a creepy little shit when you want to be.”

I arched a brow, stepping in until the heat of his fear crawled over my skin. It smelled delicious. “Want to say that again?”

His complexion paled further, sweat blooming at his temples.

“Now, answer my question.” My voice was quiet, controlled. Dangerous. “With the truth this time.” A slow smirk curved my lips. “Because if you don’t, I’ll know.”

Ghost’s breath came faster, his fingers twitching at his sides. He knew. He fucking knew.

Remi dragged the blade across his throat, slow and deliberate. A promise, not a warning. Blood welled, thin rivuletstracing the curve of his neck. Still not deep enough to kill, but deep enough to scar—if I let him live that long.

The early morning light bled through the grimy window, painting the scene sickly gold and mirroring the storm unraveling in my chest. I wanted to peel him apart. Disassemble him piece by piece until nothing is left but regret and ruin.

I replaced Remi’s blade with my hand, fingers pressing into the fresh cut, smearing the blood like ink across a page. “Now is not the time for silence, Ghost.” I tightened my grip, pulling him closer until the tips of our shoes touched. Until I could hear the sharp hitch in his breath, the way his pulse jackhammered against my palm.

His voice broke. “I—I know, Domino. I know.”

Resignation. Weak. Bitter. Hollow. It tasted like fucking victory.

Ghost’s gaze flicked past me to where Remi stood against the wall, lazily flipping the bloodied knife between his fingers. The weight of his stare settled over me, a balm to the fire roaring in my veins.

Ghost wasn’t stupid enough to play games with me. He knew the stakes.

I was judge, jury, and executioner. And Remi?

Remi was the executioner’s blade, gleaming and hungry.

“Fine.” My voice was a blade of its own. “Sit.” I gestured to the couch with a flick of my wrist. “Tell me everything. Start at the beginning. If you leave anything out—” I leaned down, my lips ghosting over the shell of his ear. “I’ll know.”

Ghost collapsed onto the couch, his legs barely holding him up. He was sweating.Good.He rubbed his palms over his jeans like it would erase the tremor in his fingers.

“I know you will.”

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