Page 54 of Web of Lies
I tilt my head, letting the silence stretch just long enough to give her one last push. "Come on, Chloé. Give me more. I know you're nosy; you always know more than you let on."
She sniffles and wipes her nose with her arm. "I don't know anything else, really."
I exhale through my nose and place my hand on the top of her head, holding her close and weaving my fingers through her hair. "Okay," I whisper, my voice dipping into a purr. "Good girl." She lets out another weak sob but leans into my touch, dripping with desperation for approval. Some things never change.
The door behind us creaks open again, and I turn my head toward the sound. Her masked partner steps back into the room.
"Hey, big guy," I say, keeping my voice calm but firm. "Come here. You can have her back." He moves without hesitation, reaching us in a couple of long strides and taking her out of my hold. She doesn't resist, leaning into him as her fingers curl into the front of his shirt. Once he has her back in his arms, the tension drains from his shoulders, and he cradles her as if she will break at any moment.
I take a quick glance at him. He's about my height, just a bit leaner. The affectionate way he holds her speaks volumes. For a moment, I allow myself to hope that he is different from the others I've met who took advantage of her.
"You better treat that wild card well," I mutter under my breath as I tap his shoulder before stepping past him and heading for the door. I stop and turn just enough to catch a glimpse of Chloé over my shoulder. She presses her face against his chest and clings to him. "If you ever mess with someone important to me again, I'll kill you, Chloé. Don't forget that." She flinches but doesn't speak. The guy holding her stares at me, but remains silent.
Without another word, I turn on my heel and head for the door. Each of my footsteps echoes off the walls as I rush down the stairwell. When I push the heavy door open, the hot night air hits me like a ton of bricks, thick and suffocating. But that's nothing compared to the sight waiting for me. Riley stands by the motorcycle, arms wrapped around herself, her bodyquivering and tears streaming down her flushed cheeks. Her eyes are wide and raw with emotion, as if she's barely holding herself together.
The moment the heavy metal door slams shut behind me, she jumps and turns in my direction. Her gaze finds mine. Her breath stutters and quickens, and then she lunges forward.
"You're the fucking Butcher?" Her voice cracks like a whip as she storms toward me, her hands balled into fists. She comes to a hard stop right in front of me, her chest heaving. "Did you have fun? Huh? Was it fun to make a fool out of me, to listen to me talk about him like some obsessed idiot? Excuse me—about you? To top it all off, you offered to help me find him. How does that make sense?"
"Riley, calm down," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Don't tell me to calm down," she snaps, her voice cracking as tears fall from her eyes. "Not after finding out the truth like this." She furrows her brows in confusion. In fear. In betrayal.
I walk past her, take the leather jacket off the bike, and hold it out to her. "Put it on."
"I'm not leaving with you." She shoves my hand away, and I take a deep breath to stay calm.
"We need to talk."
"Do we? Then let's talk."
"Not here. You're not safe." I say with a sigh, bringing the jacket toward her again.
"But I'm safe with you? You're the fucking Butcher."
"For the love of God—" I snap, but a shrill scream from inside the building cuts me off. We look at each other, our eyes wide, then shift our attention toward the building. "We need to get out of here. Now," I say, as I grab Riley by the arm, force the jacket on her, and zip it up. It's not perfect, but it's the best I can offer right now. I guide her toward the bike, lift her onto the pillion, and grab the helmet.
"What was that?" Riley asks, still looking startled.
"Chloé is going mad. We need to leave before she changes her mind." I say. "You can yell at me as much as you want once you're safe." I put the helmet on her head and fasten it, then fling my leg over the bike. With a twist of the key, the engine revs to life beneath us. She wraps her arms around me, burying her hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt and gripping the fabric. I guide the motorcycle back onto the street, kick the throttle, and speed off.
Chapter 25
Riley
With my fingers grippingthe fabric of Kyle's sweatshirt, I cling to him as he speeds down the street. The wind whips past us as I squeeze my eyes shut. My heart thumps in my chest, its echo drumming in my ears. Tears burn behind my eyelids, but I fight them back, trying to stay calm and process the flood of information that has been dumped on me: our truth, our lies, our secrets. It's all too much.
Only when the air around us cools down and the roar of the engine is replaced by an eerie silence, do I finally open my eyes. The dim, familiar light of the underground garage of Kyle's apartment building engulfs us as he directs the bike into his parking spot.
The sudden silence that replaces the lingering echo of Chloé's voice, the bustling street, and the wind whipping past nearly sends my mind into a spiral as I'm left alone with my thoughts. I swing one shaky leg over the side, climb off, and pull off the helmet, hugging it to my chest. Kyle follows a second later, kicking the footstand into place.
"I want to go home," I say with a quiet, shaky voice.
"Not on my watch," he says, placing his hand on the small of my back and guiding me toward the elevators. "If Chloé doesn't hand you over, your apartment will be the first place they search. " He scans his keycard, and the elevator doors slide open with a soft hiss. Kyle ushers me inside and enters the access code for his floor. The doors close with a soft buzz, and the number panel lights up, counting upward while skipping every floor.
As soon as the elevator doors open, I freeze. My gaze falls on the familiar sight of my terrariums, which are neatly arranged on the dining table. Dumpster sits in front of one of them, her paw touching the glass where one of my spiders sits in its web. My heart leaps as I rush inside and count through each enclosure to make sure they're all there. A wave of relief washes over me when I find them all safe and sound where they should be. Even Mocha, my little escape artist, sits perched on a tiny twig in her terrarium.
"How did you do it?" I ask, turning to face Kyle, tears welling up in my eyes.
