Page 57 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

“I’m fine,” she demands, shoving her hands into her sweatshirt pocket.

I hate how dark it is in here, how most of what I see of her is filled in by memories.

“No, Violet. You’re not. If I found you, that means the cops will too. Come with me.”

“No,” she growls.

I step forward and she dodges my reach, but I calculated her trying to escape so I’m already going that way. I grab her up and toss her over my shoulder.

“Put me down or I will stab you!” she hisses.

“You will not,” I say as I make my way through the kitchen and out the back door.

Violet kicks and punches my back all the way to the car, making the journey not easy. I have to hoist her up a few times, and by the time we reach my car, my arms are burning from the workout. I open the back door, shove her in, then jump in after her.

She’s huffing as she rights herself, yanking her hood off and glaring at me.

The interior light is on and I finally get a good look. She looks exactly the same, only a bit older. Her skin is fair and soft. Her hair is a light shade of violet. Her crystal blue eyes are so light you have to really stare to see the color.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she snaps.

“Why are you angry with me?” I ask, not understanding this at all.

I should be the one angry with her. She’s the one who left me. Sheleft me.

“I’ve been after this guy for weeks. I finally get in and you pull me out,” she argues, gesturing toward the house.

“This isn’t safe.”

“No shit,” she says with a laugh.

My eyes narrow and all I can do is stare at her.

She looks the same. Sounds the same. But… she is not the same. She’s hardened. Callous. Cold. There is no warmth left to her eyes.

“What happened to you?” I ask softly.

She grits her teeth and looks away, tears stinging her eyes. Violet always was emotional. Too emotional. And these killings show that.

“Come home with me,” I say. “Let me help you.”

She huffs out a bitter laugh, wiping her eyes. “Your girlfriend won’t like that.”

“How do you know I have a girlfriend?” I ask quickly.

Violet bites on the inside of her cheek but still doesn’t look at me.

“Violet,” I grit out. “Tell me how you know about Lilah.”

Crossing her arms, she leans back against the seat.

“Just take me to your house,” she mutters.

I blink a few times, waiting to see if she says something else. She doesn’t. So I get out of the car, only to get into the driver’s seat. Before starting up the car, I watch her in the mirror for a long moment. When she doesn’t bolt, I start the car and bring us to my house. Violet lets herself out of the car and follows me through the garage and to the door as if she’s been here a thousand times before. I brought her here once, years ago, but she never came inside. We didn’t make it past the gate at the bottom of the driveway.

Flicking the lights on, I say, “Take a seat.” I gesture to the dining table. “I’ll be right back.”

Violet does as she’s told, but before I can take two steps, Lilah rounds the corner with a big smile on her face—and nothing on her body.

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