Page 8 of Ugly Truths
“No.”
Liar.
Though I’m poised to call him out, I don’t. People hate silence and rush to fill it.
Jeff’s eyes narrow, just slightly. “I don’t get into personal stuff with the people I train.”
I throw another combination, harder this time. Jeff adjusts, catching the impact without effort. For a moment, the only sound is the dullthudof my gloves against the mitts.
“She left without saying anything,” I explain between combinations, my breath hitching with each point of contact. “None of her friends have heard from her. We’re all worried.”
The mitts snap back under my force, and Jeff moves with me, shifting defensively as he keeps up with my increased pace, absorbing my next punch and blocking the next instead of letting me land it. He looks between me and my glove with an expression unreadable before his eyes flick up to hold mine.
“You ever stop to think,” he starts, “that maybe sometimes people don’t say goodbye because they don’t want to be followed?”
My jaw clenches, and the next hit lands harder than necessary. Jeff doesn’t call me out for it.
“I want to know if she’s okay.” The lie doesn’t come out as concerned as I want it to. “If you helped her, that’s fine. I just need to know.”
Jeff drops his hands, stepping back slightly. “Look, if you came here to interrogate me about something I don’t know, you’re out of luck. If she needed to start over somewhere, I’m happy she was able to do that, but that’s all I’ve got for you.”
My restraint frays. The fury I’ve been forcing down, the frustration of chasing ghosts, of running in circles with half-truths and dead ends, threatens to rip free.
Was he part of her plan, or just more collateral damage? Used and discarded like the rest of us?
I inhale slowly, recognizing the line I’m about to cross. I'm not sure if the jaws of life will be able to retract my arm from his neck if I give myself the opportunity.
“I think we’re done here,” I say, voice devoid of all emotion.
After a moment, Jeff nods and slips off the mitts, though he doesn’t take his eyes off of me. “Good luck finding whatever you're looking for.”
The words I want to say won’t help me any, so I don’t respond. Turning on my heel, I rip my bag off the floor and head for the exit.
I’ll find another way to get the answers I need.
Ihaveto.
Chapter 4
Elena
The air in the cell clings to my lungs. My vision blurs with tears, but all I can see is Natalie. Her lifeless body sprawled across the cold concrete floor, blood pooling beneath her. It creeps closer and closer to my feet, the rich crimson soaking into the rough surface. Her dark hair fans out like a halo, and though I can't see her face, I don’t need to. The glint of her wedding bands under the flickering fluorescent light confirms what I already know.
Dead. Just like Drew.
“Do you see what you always make me do, Elena?” Peter’s voice cuts through the air as he twirls a knife between his fingers. My stomach churns, but I can’t look at him for long. My eyes are drawn to the other figure in the room.
Silas is on the floor, trying to push himself up onto his hands and knees. Blood stains his shirt, spreading from somewhere in his torso, and his breaths come in ragged gasps.
I lunge, restraints biting into my wrists, the ropes cutting deeper with every frantic tug. “Silas!” I cry, my voice cracking. “Get up!”
Peter watches him struggle, tilting his head as though he’s studying a particularly pathetic animal.
With a speed I didn't know he was capable of, Peter closes the distance between them and grabs Silas by his hair, yanking him into a kneeling position. Silas grunts in pain, his glasses askew and cracked, blood dripping from the corner of hismouth. The hatred in his eyes when they meet mine steals the breath from my lungs.
“Please,” I whimper, turning my attention to Peter. “Please. He didn’t do anything—it’s my fault.”
Peter raises an eyebrow, lips curling up. “Oh, I know it’s your fault,” he drawls, dragging the tip of the knife along Silas’s jawline. “But it’s so much more fun to make you watch.” His smirk widens, a flash of teeth that makes my skin crawl. “Now, what do you think, Silas? Should I kill you or her?”
