Page 64 of Her Wicked Knights
"I don't think we should do this...." Jake huffs, and I turn to see him with his palms pressed together between his thighs, one knee bouncing rapidly up and down. He looks like he's going to be sick, but he's looked that way before everything, and he still does it. "This is too far."
"Thisis too far?" Rev snorts. "Why? After she dumped your ass, I'd think you want a little revenge."
Jake grits his jaw, and if looks could kill, Rev would be dead, just like the rest of our casualties. But they can't, and Jake is—to absolutely nobody's surprise— a complete and total pussy.
I can't exactly blame Jake for being so pissy. He lost Marley, and just like that, Audrey dropped him too. It's weird, how immediately she broke it off with him once he was no longer dating Marley. In fact, I'm torn on whether she only fucked him behind Marley's back because she liked the thrill, or because in some sick way it made her feel closer to Marley.
I wouldn't be surprised if she's planning on cutting off Marley's face and wearing it around so she can pretend to be her. Hell, she already steals Marley's clothes despite them being too tight for her.
Obsession can look like many different things, I've learned. After all, I am obsessed with her and all I want to do is worship her. Colton is obsessed with her, and I think that all he wants to do is chain her to him for the rest of time. Rev? I don't know if he's obsessed with her. He cares, of course, but I don't know what the extent of that is. We've not really talked about it, beyond the brief discussion with Whit at one of the parties where he suggested we share her.
Colton hadn't been there for that, and something tells me that he'd rather light himself and Marley both on fire than share her. But clearly we already did, in some capacity.
Whit hasn't shown us any more memories, but he's insisted that we bound our souls to one another. And as absolutely insane as that sounds, it also, somehow makes sense.
What I feel for Marley is deeper and truer than anything I've ever felt. Maybe that's just first love, or maybe we just have something special. But the fact that we are bound at all impliesmorethan just friendship between us.
33
Rev
I'mabouttobea killer. I am already, sure, but tonight will be different. My previous victim wasn't really my fault; I know that. She was dead before I even participated, and I only acted as a result of Whit messing around in my brain, pulling strings and pressing buttons like I was a damn toy for him to play with.
But tonight? Tonight, we will actively participate, freely participate, in the murder of Audrey Graves. It's fucked, and yet, I think I am not as torn up as I should be. I'm not as devastated as I was last time. After tonight, this will all be over. The bullshit that we've stood by, helpless to witness for the last few months, will be over, and we can move on. Marley will be safe, and the magic that Whit so desperately covets will be ours. Marley will be ours.
It's hard to focus on anything all day, and by the time I pick Tripp up, I am more resigned than afraid. What will be, will be. Given a choice between Marley and Audrey, I will choose Marley. Every one of us will, and if that makes us wrong or wicked, then so fucking be it. I'll be the villain in someone else'sstory if it keeps Marley alive. And if it allows her to be mine,ours, then all the better.
Tripp doesn't speak when he slinks into the passenger seat, just greets me with a nod of his head and reaches for the knob on the dashboard to turn the volume up.
We ride most of the way to the theme park without speaking, both of us lost in our own thoughts. I cut glances at him from the corner of my eye, wondering if he's as unfazed as he seems to be under that cool demeanor.
Shortly after Coheed and Cambria's Welcome Home starts playing, I feel his eyes on me.
"What?" I demand, suddenly acutely aware of how I've been drumming against the steering wheel in an effort to contain the nervous energy simmering beneath the surface.
"The song?" He laughs. "Soretro."
"Fuck off." I laugh, shoving his arm to push him away from me just the slightest bit. I'm not going to dare tell him that I have been carefully curating this playlist over the last few weeks, going down the rabbit hole of early 2000's music because it just hits different.
"I'm not complaining, for the record." Tripp raises his hands in surrender. "It's just funny."
"Well, it's emo metalcore or the soundtrack to The Greatest Showman, so pick your poison."
"Tough call." He smirks. "Maybe we save the soundtrack for the ride home?"
"What is our life about to look like?" I ask, letting the words slip past my tongue before I can stop them.
It's a stupid thing to ask because he won't know any more than I will. At some point, we have to fill Marley in on everything we know, everything she doesn't, and I am not looking forward to the devastation I expect it to cause her. She's suffered so much,and there's still just a little more for her to endure before it will all be over.
"I don't know." Tripp answers honestly. "But I hope it's good."
I snort, because it's the bare minimum, and Tripp asking for the bare minimum is funny in a sad sort of way. "Do you hope it's... magical?"
There's a moment where he just stares at me, leaving me to wonder if my joke was too corny, before he cracks. And I mean, literally, cracks.
Once he starts laughing, he doesn't stop, and I know it was a ridiculous pun so it's not like he can't help it. Instead, it just seems like everything is spilling out all at once—anxiety and anticipation and hope and fear and joy because what he wants, what we all want, is just within reach.
His laughter tapers off as the sign for Terror Nights comes into view and the reality of what we are doing permeates the air between us.
