Page 107 of Tricked By Jack
Her voice pitches higher, cracking into a sob.
“Don’t you dare question me, Ned. Don’t you dare pretend you understand!”
The knife isn’t deliberate—it’s desperate. She hurls herself at him, screaming and sobbing in the same breath, driving the blade into his chest with a savage thrust. He chokes, blood bubbling on his lips, but she doesn’t stop. She stabs again, and again, each strike punctuated by another broken scream.
“He’s gone! He’s gone! And Jack still gets to breathe!”
Ned crumples under her, his hands slipping uselessly through the blood soaking his shirt. His wide eyes fix on her with shock, betrayal, and something almost like pity before they glaze over.
Shelby keeps stabbing, snarling broken words, tears and spit streaking her face until she finally shoves him away.
She staggers back from Ned’s body, chest heaving, blood dripping from the knife. “I’ll make him pay, John. I swear it,” she mutters, wild eyes shining. Then she turns away, leaving her brother crumpled in a spreading pool.
My body aches from the unnatural position. But it’s nothing compared to the ache in my heart, knowing Jack will find me like this—his sister’s death reflected in my body.
And that, more than anything Shelby could do to me, is what truly hurts.
Chapter 34
The Trickster
My tires screech as I cut across three lanes, horn blaring, heart hammering so hard I taste copper. The phone buzzes against my thigh for the fifth time in ten minutes—Nick’s name flashing, demanding answers I won’t give.
I grip the wheel tighter, knuckles bleaching white. I was too late for Ruby, but not this time. Not with Eve. The thought of her name sends another surge of acid through my veins, burning away everything but the need to reach her before I lose her too.
I nearly clip a taxi as I swerve through a yellow light. The driver leans on his horn, but the sound barely registers. My mind is already ten blocks ahead, already in that warehouse, already seeing what I might find.
The phone buzzes again. I silence it without looking, knowing Nick has figured out my lie by now. He’ll be mad that I tricked him into going to his own house, but I have to do this by myself. This was never his debt to pay.
A text from Ned still glows on my screen, words I’ve read twenty times since he sent them just after Nick left.
Ned: Shelby is taking Eveto where Ruby was killed.
Another car horn blares as I run a stop sign, the road blurring through the windshield. My breath comes in ragged gulps.
I can’t stop seeing it—my sister’s body slumped on the floor, the bullet wound that I put there. And now Eve… fuck, Eve in the same location, maybe in the same position.
“I’m coming,” I whisper, the words scraping my throat raw. “Hold on, Little Bride. Just hold on.”
My jaw aches from clenching, teeth grinding together so hard I taste enamel dust. Every red light, every slow driver, every fucking obstacle feels like a personal attack. The wheel creaks under my grip, plastic warping beneath my fingers as if absorbing the tension coiling through my body.
I slam on the gas harder, weaving between cars like they’re standing still. The meat district rises ahead, abandoned factories and warehouses jutting against the sky like broken teeth. This part of town died years ago, left to rot and rust while developers argued over its bones.
My throat closes at the memory of the last time I was here. My sister’s body going limp, her eyes glazing over. The thing that haunts me the most is the forgiveness I saw in her eyes as she died. Maybe even a fleeting glance of… I don’t fucking know.
I screech to a stop in front of the warehouse, tires skidding on gravel. The place looks worse than when I last saw it—windows shattered, metal siding peeled back like flesh from bone, walls crumbling inward.
Weeds push through cracks in the concrete, nature reclaiming what man abandoned. But it’s the same place. The place where Ruby died. Where Shelby has brought Eve to make her point.
I grab my gun from the glove compartment, check the magazine, and slam it home. The metal is cold against my palm, familiar and strange all at once. Then I’m out of the car, boots crunching on broken glass as I sprint toward the building.
A jagged hole gapes in the side wall—not a door, not a window, just a wound in the concrete where something tore through. I catch a flash of movement—a figure in the shadows, tall and angular. Shelby.
Her face is turned away, but I’d know that posture anywhere. The way she stands, shoulders hunched forward like a vulture about to feast. My blood rushes hot then cold, primal instinct recognizing predator.
I duck low, using the broken wall as cover as I edge closer. She’s too focused on something ahead to notice me—something I can’t yet see.
“Shelby!” I shout, unable to contain the rage boiling over. My voice echoes through the empty space, bouncing off concrete and steel.
