Page 51 of Depraved Truths

“Yes, now can you put the gun away?”

“Why should I trust you?” he asks.

“Because I’m fucking Allie’s best friend, and I just want this situation resolved. If Tessa is happy, I’m happy. And with you out of the picture, she will be.”

He relaxes his arm down, not dropping the gun, but it’s no longer facing my direction.

At that moment, Tessa sneaks up behind him. Before he can react, she presses her Glock to his temple and clicks the safety off.

“Oh god, what the fuck!”

“Definitely not God, because he isn’t here right now.”

Dalton tenses up, his eyes wide with panic and fear. “Tess?”

“Now, drop the gun, or I will put a bullet straight through your skull,” she says coldly.

The gun falls to the floor with a loud clatter.

“Kick it away.”

He complies, kicking it out of reach. Before he can say another word, she pulls out a syringe and stabs it into his neck.

Chapter 34

Dalton falls unceremoniously to the floor, his body hitting the hard concrete with a dull thud. I replace the needle cap and slip it into one of the pockets of my leggings. Adding pockets to leggings was a stroke of genius, and I should send a thank-you note to whoever thought of it.

“Took you long enough,” Eli deadpans.

“But did you die?” I respond, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Inside, though, I'm trembling. My heart's racing as if running a marathon. That could have ended badly. What if Eli had gotten hurt—or worse, killed? It was a reckless decision to let him come and I've never been more frightened for anyone in my life. The thought of losing him is too horrible to contemplate.

“What were you thinking, using yourself as a distraction? That was an amateur move,” I add, deliberately picking a fight, as I try to grapple with the realization that I’ve never felt this level of terror over another person.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

Damn it, he has a point.

I kick Dalton, even though I know he's out cold, thanks to the sedative. The kick is just the beginning of what this piece of trash deserves.

I survey the room as I strategize my next move. From the high windows, the setting sun casts long shadows across the room as dusk creeps in.

“Alright, we wait until dark, then move him. I don’t want to leave anything behind in case the police figure out he came here the same way we did.”

I enter the office he’d left. The room is cluttered, but given the dust is just as thick, Dalton must not have disturbed much.

Bryce said Dalton’s phone was tossed in a dumpster, but surely that wasn’t the only way he was communicating.

Leaving the room, I find Eli propped up against the wall, anger radiating off of him as he glares down at the unconscious piece of shit. “I want him to talk,” he mutters, running a finger through his hair. “And then I want to watch him suffer.”

A man after my own heart. “That’s my specialty, Stalker.”

After securing Dalton's hands and feet with zip ties, I check his pockets, pulling out a burner cell, a wallet, and a small key. The key looks like it belongs to a lockbox or something similar. I pocket it and pull out a pair of latex gloves, grabbing Dalton's gun and placing it in a Ziplock bag, thinking it might come in handy later.

We wait until it's nearly dark outside. Eli does a quick perimeter search, then pulls the truck back to the docking area.

Working in sync, we load Dalton into the truck’s back seat, sliding him across the floorboard. We cover him with a blanket, making sure he has enough room to breathe. I can’t have him suffocating on me.

“Eli, I think we’ve reached the point in this relationship where I show you my basement.”

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