Page 60 of Dolls & Daggers
“You know, I thought you were such a nice guy at first,” I whisper, maneuvering him back toward the bed. Our height difference makes it a little tricky, but I cradle his neck and guide him down so we’re more at eye level. A choked cough splatters blood onto his chin in flecks of crimson. Luckily, none of it gets on me.
“You were sweet, and so kind to Fang. And really, that’s the most upsetting part of all this.” I yank the dagger free, flipping the handle to drive it just below hisribs. “My dog really liked you. And now I have to feed him your penis.”
“Dove?”
I freeze as an all-too-familiar voice sounds to my left, calling my name with a singular, horrified syllable.
Ryan’s blood escapes the wound in small rivulets, seeping into his shirt. I let go to avoid getting it on me. He gurgles out a wet cry for help as I slowly turn toward my songbird, who’s standing in the open doorway, his wide, unbelieving eyes flicking between Ryan and me.
How did I not hear the door open?
Worst serial killer ever.
Something dark stirs in my belly. Slowly, it slithers around my organs, constricting some while causing others to work overtime to process this fucking nightmare of a situation I find myself in.
“Close the door, Songbird,” I murmur, pulse thundering in my ears. “I don’t need any more interruptions.”
I should have known he’d find a way to follow me. I knew he was suspicious. I should have cleaned up my killer cave and shown him the room to ease his doubt.
Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?
I don’t want to kill Wren.
“Fucking… monster,” Ryan spits out.
Rolling my eyes, I press my palm to his foreheadand shove him backward. “Monsters are survivors, Ryan. You’re the one who got yourself into this mess. I’m just a survivor of this unfortunate situation.”
Wren continues to stand frozen in the opendoorway, dumbfounded. “Wren!”
He snaps out of it, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind him with an audible slam.
I like this hotel because even though it’s cheap, the walls aren’t paper-thin, and they never ask questions when I book three rooms next to each other. Sound still travels, so when I use their fine establishment, I take the utmost precautions.
“Don’t look so surprised, Songbird. You’ve known for a while, haven’t you?”
Ryan uses the last moments of his life to beg Wren for help, but all he does is stare while I roll my former lover into a life-sized sushi roll with the comforter. It may be old as fuck and scratchy as hell, but it’s thick enough to keep the blood from seeping through to the sheets.
HummingTen in the Bed, I push Ryan until he topples off the side, landing with a hard thump. “And one fell out!” I finish with a flourish, spinning to face the other man in the room with a vulpine grin.
Myman.
Well, he’s not screaming or running for his life. That’s a good sign.
But why would he?
He loves the Doll, and now he knows she’s been near him the whole time.
Still, my muscles ache from how tightly I tense, waiting for him to speak.
Wren blinks from Ryan to me. When he finally admits softly, “I’ve had my suspicions for a while now, yes.” I’m genuinely surprised.
He regards me as I take slow, measured steps toward him, each one in sync with my heartbeat. I can only imagine what’s going through his mind. Is he recalling the times I showed up as the Doll? Is he disappointed to know we’re one and the same?
Wren nailed it when he wrote his last piece about the Doll killing the men she does because she was abused as a child. Did he write it to coax me out of my shell like a scared turtle? Is he really obsessed with her, or has he been trying to uncover her identity all this time for a life-changing exposé?
Thought after thought races through my mind as I approach him. “What now, Songbird?”
Wren reaches for me. I go rigid as his hands settle on my waist, his brows furrowed. The air grows thick with tension, theunknownstretching between us as he asks, “What do you mean?”
