Page 102 of Two for Joy

“Finally get the one that got away. Five was your target, right? I took after you, and chose five, and we both can conclude our countdowns, we can both succeed, and move on. Maybe start this all over again somewhere new.”

“You’re not touching Chad.”

Marc exhaled heavily through his nose. “I read Holly’s article on you.”

“I bet that stung, her taking over from you. Her throwing you out into the cold, never loving you the way you loved her.”

“She used me, betrayed me, and I was so angry with her, but despite wanting to, I couldn’t kill her, couldn’t hurt her.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t kill what I love.”

“Maybe we’re not so different.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I love Holly, and in some ways, I’ve got to thank her for letting me hit rock bottom to set me free, but you … you’re ill.”

“Ill?

“Holly wrote about it in the article, Lima syndrome, Chad’s exploited your illness to feel powerful. He’s taking advantage of your condition.”

“That’s all love is—a condition people suffer from. The best definition I’ve heard for it, different symptoms for everyone, different intensities, different durations.”

“No. Chad poisoned your head, he’s a tumor, and he needs to be cut out for you to be free again.” Marc frowned in sympathy. “But I can only help you if you let me.”

“I don’t want your help.”

“We’re the same. You’re evil, on the bad side, and I’m right there beside you, but Chad’s a good guy, the opposition. The side we’re pitted against.”

“You’re right, he is a good guy.”

“And we’re bad ones. I can see it in your eyes, you know he has to die for you to be free. He’s weak, we won’t even have to drug him to do it.”

“We?”

Marc nodded, cutting the scalpel through the air. “We can take him out together. I’ll even let you strangle him before I slit his throat. I’ll make a pretty picture out of him.”

Romeo heard Chad backing off, down the corridor, knocking the picture frames off the wall as he went. Romeo turned just in time to see him retreat into the bedroom, eyes wide with fear.

“Come on,” Marc said getting closer. “Let’s do it.”

“No.”

“Chad’s gonna be my greatest piece of art.”

“He’s not gonna beyouranything.”

“All those numbers I’ve carved into his flesh. Watching his big watering eyes while I did it and he was unable to move. Completely paralyzed, but he could feel every one of those cuts. I’m not finished. I’m gonna do his back, his face, his legs. Then cut out—not burn—the number one into his chest before slitting his throat.”

“As I keep saying, you’re not touching him.”

“It’ll be the scalpel that touches him. Cuts him up, peels back his skin like an orange. He’s going to look beautiful.”

Romeo couldn’t hide the disgust from his face. Marc’s gleeful smile dropped, and he stopped waving the scalpel. “I’ve got to say, I’m rather disappointed.”

“They say you should never meet your heroes.”

“Strangling your victims to death, where’s the art? Where’s the gore, and the blood that everyone reads about?”

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