Page 51 of Pretty Poisoned

"That's my good girl," he says. "My pretty, sweet, poison girl."

His lips engulf mine, slowly and sensually, waiting for me to let him in, and I do. I can't explain it—maybe I'm just desperate for comfort or for something else to get lost in—but I part my lipsand let his tongue slip past mine. I reach out and fist his shirt in my hands, and he bites my lip before he pulls away.

"Let's take care of this…okay? Just…get it over with, Teagan."

"Okay."

Layla wears only a white nightshirt, and there's nowhere I can grab her that isn't covered in blood. Luca lifts her from under her arms and looks at me, waiting. I take a deep breath and kneel in the blood-soaked grass, then pick her up under her thighs and carry her to the edge of the sheet.

"Roll her up tightly," he says. "She'll be easier to carry that way. Are you ready?"

"Yeah," I say, wondering how many bodies they've buried in the backyard.

Luca takes the edge of the sheet and almost pulls it over her face, but before he does, he stops, leans down, and kisses her on the forehead. "Bye, Baby Lay. I'll miss you so much," he says.

Will he, though? Will he miss her? If they rolled me up in a sheet and buried me in their backyard, would anyone fucking miss me?

I'm losing it again. I look down at my bloodstained hands and clothes, and my breathing becomes shallow.

"Teagan?" he says, laying his bloody hand on my own.

"I'm fine," I say, pulling my hand away. I grab my side of the sheet and pull it over her body, and he does the same. We roll her several times before there's no slack left, watching as the sheet saturates with more and more blood each time.

Luca hands me some rope. "Tie this around her legs and ankles a few times," he says.

I take it from him and do as he asks while he does the same, tying the rope around her torso and her neck.

"I should be able to carry her myself," he says. "Just walk ahead of me and take the flashlight, okay?"

"Okay."

He holds it out to me, and I take it. I click it on and wait while he reaches beneath the sheet and hauls her into his arms. Then, I start walking down the trail.

We don't speak, and I don't look back. I don't look down at my own bloodstained hands. I stare at the illuminated path. It feels like it takes ten times longer than it did this morning, but eventually, we make it to the clearing where they're working on a hole that isn't even close to deep enough.

"Oh good," Declan says, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. "You two can take a shift now."

He steps away from the very shallow hole and hands me a shovel. I consider protesting, but I know there's no point. I have no power here. What will it get me besides maybe a hole in the woods for myself?

Brady hands his shovel to Luca and takes a seat on the ground next to Layla's body. He places his hand on the place where her heart would beat if she were still alive. "I'm so sorry, Layla," he says.

"Don't be sorry," Declan snaps. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

I quickly look away and start digging—or try my best anyway. I can barely get the shovel into the ground, and eventually, Rhett notices.

"Teagan is just making this take more time," Rhett says.

"I don't care," Declan says.

"We're going to have to do more work because of her," he says. "She doesn't even know Layla."

"She's a part of this. She's going to help."

"Why?" Rhett asks.

"So that he can incriminate her," Brady says. "It's obvious, isn't it?"

I freeze and look at Declan, awaiting a response, but I don't get one. He looks back at me and raises one eyebrow, challenging me, but I say nothing.

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