Page 52 of The Perfect Illusion
She couldn’t escape an ugly reality—that she'd given in to the bloodlust she'd been fighting off for months. That she'd used the power of her vengeful rage to plunge a knife into the heart of another human being. Yes, she'd been in danger. And yes, maybe she had no choice in that moment. But that didn’t justify the truth she was finally willing to accept: that she’d enjoyed it.
Before Jessie looked at any thumb drives or addressed the injury to her head with her doctor, or discussed the potential of having children with Ryan, she had to answer the question that made her head throb more than any concussion did.
What had she unleashed in herself? And was there any way to put it back in the box?
CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN
Finn Anderton walked through the dark parking lot, trying not to let his nerves get the better of him.
It was just after ten, and the nighttime quiet of the lot was unnerving. He'd got Dallas Henry's class schedule and learned that his Statistical Models class ran from 8:30 to 10. So he'd waited outside the building until the guy emerged and followed him to the lot.
There were still a surprising number of cars there, which likely belonged to some other students in the same class. It was held at the very far end of campus, a twenty-five-minute walk away from the dorms and campus apartments. As a result, many students drove rather than risk walking across campus late at night.
He wondered if that was Dallas’s reason, though he doubted it. The guy was tall and muscular, and attempting to mug him seemed like a foolish choice. But Finn wasn’t here to mug Dallas. He was here to confront him. And now, only a few paces behind the guy, he decided the time had come.
“Hey,” he called out.
Dallas jumped slightly, nearly bumping into the pickup truck next to him, and turned around with a surprised expression on his face.
“Can I help you?” he asked in a tone that suggested he had no intention of helping.
“Actually, I was hoping to help you out,” Finn said. “I wanted to give you a piece of advice.”
“Do I know you?” Dallas replied unconvincingly.
Finn knew it was a charade. Dallas Henry was well aware of who he was. He let that lie go so as not to get distracted.
“You need to leave Hannah Dorsey alone,” he said emphatically.
“Are you serious right now?” Dallas demanded, looking like he might be on the verge of laughing.
Finn was very serious. He’d come to accept that there might not be any romantic future for him and Hannah anymore. That was his fault—a result of his moral weakness in an important moment. But even so, he still wanted Hannah to be safe and happy. And what he’d recently learned about Dallas Henry told him that she wouldn’t be safe with him.
“I know who you really are,” he said, deciding that the best way to keep Hannah safe was to put a little healthy fear in this guy.
“What does that mean?” Dallas demanded haughtily, though his eyes looked slightly panicked.
“I researched you,” Finn said, “just like Hannah does when she’s helping other students out of a jam. I even went to Bakersfield this last weekend to talk to some people. The hometown folks always know each other best, right? And you know what your old high school peeps told me?”
“This should be good,” Dallas said, pretending not to care, though his teeth were gritted.
“They said that early in school, something happened to you,” Finn told him. “You changed from a normal kid into some kind of incel type. I had multiple people tell me that they were scared that you’d end up as a school shooter. And then something changed.”
He waited to see if Dallas would respond, but the guy just stood there, staring at him, his whole body one big ball of tension. Finn continued.
“They said that you seemed to drop the whole ‘woman-hating’ thing, that you appeared to have turned over a new leaf. But the weird thing was that not everyone bought it. I had at least three people that I tracked down say they thought you were just putting on a good show so that you could get into college, but that you hadn’t really changed. They said the darkness was still in you.”
“What kind of freak are you?” Dallas demanded. “We’ve never spoken and then you come up to me in a random parking lot and start making accusations about my character? What kind of sicko decides that a fun time would be making the three hour trip from Irvine to Bakersfield— on a weekend, no less—to dig up lies on a total stranger? You think I’m some threat to Hannah, but the truth is that you’re the stalker, man.”
“Just stay away from her,” Finn said undeterred, “You act like you’ve changed but I know guys like you. There are a few in my own fraternity. I know what your type does when you think no one’s looking. I know the truth. We both do.”
Dallas paused, seemingly taking the words to heart. Then he took a step forward and muttered under his breath.
“The truth is that you should be less worried about the threat to Hannah and more worried about the threat to yourself.”
Finn saw a flash of motion at waist level and glanced down. He processed what was happening only after it had begun.
Dallas had a switchblade knife in his hand. It glinted in the moonlight just before Finn felt it sink into his gut. He started to gasp, but Dallas’s hand was suddenly covering his mouth. He felt the knife leave his abdomen, then re-enter it. More jabs happened in quick succession. He lost count as he dropped to his knees, unable to support his weight because of the excruciating pain.
