Page 118 of Terror Tuesday
“Don’t cry,” he says as his thumbs brush them away. “This is what I’ve wanted from the start. You. Me. Together forever. And no more masks.”
He presses his lips to mine, and I savor every morsel of his kiss, deepening it and wrapping my arms around his firm figure.
“Valen…” Blinking at him through wet lashes, I’m warmed by the sight of his own eyes tearing up. And that sensation of falling into him becomes less of an abstract thought and more of a reality.
I swallow hard, my fingertips tracing the pin. “But what do you mean…about ending everything?”
His eyes glint with something I can’t name—something dark and resolute. With a graze of his lips against my ear, he leans in and whispers, “We’re going to kill the president.”
thirty-two
“W-We are?”She lowers her chin and takes a step away from me.
“Yes. This is the way. We need to stop Seventh Society. I’m convinced that if we cut off the head of the snake, we’ll win.”
It feels so freeing to finally be able to share my plans with the love of my life. I know we can’t be appointed until the current president is in the ground and someone new approves the order. But I can marry this woman.
She appears shaken, frozen with searching eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
Her knuckles whiten as she hugs herself. “I think I need breakfast.”
“Sure, yeah. It’s almost ready. Oatmeal okay? I have coffee, too.”
With a pinched brow, she doesn’t answer. “I’m going to get dressed… It’s cold.”
“Stand here by the stove. The fire will keep you warm.”
She nods, but turns to the stairs, and I worry I’ve said too much too quickly. “I just need my clothes…”
Maybe she isn’t as ready as I thought. She will be. Probably needs time to wrap her head around it, and then she’ll be okay.
A rickety wooden table stands in the center of the room with benches lining either side. I pour the steaming porridge into the tin bowls I brought over from our camping gear. Dad’s beyond excited that I decided to fix up this place, though I know it’ll take years to reclaim from nature. It’s been in the family for too long to let it rot.
When she returns, there’s a flush coloring her cheeks. I wave at the warm food, but her attitude is icy.
“Did you find the bathroom I made?” I ask carefully, noting that her hair has been combed through.
“Yeah. The basin with the water pitcher worked. And…toilet.”
I’d brought over a composting one until we get working plumbing.
She sits and takes her first bite while I monitor her face. She’s not looking at me. I can’t stand it.
“Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking, or do I need to choke it out of you?” I ask.
The spoon clanks as she sets it down, and then steadies a fierce gaze on me. There’s the fire…
“How long have you been planning this?”
“To…?”
“To kill President Harvey.”
“Years.”
Her shoulders stiffen. Then, like a viper, she stings. “And what were you waiting for?”
