Page 93 of Royal
By the time Grayson got the coffee and went up to the hotel room to find me gone, I’d probably be too far away. The killer had been patient for five days, just waiting for his chance to lure me out.
I should’ve known it was a trap.
Brysen was bait.
And the spider had just caught me in his web.
***
Water dripped nearby, a constant sound that grated on my nerves. I opened my eyes and winced at the sharp pain in my head. The back of my skull ached, as if I’d been hit by something hard and flat. At first, I was confused, not sure what’d happened or why I couldn’t move.
But then I remembered. Brysen crying and bleeding out. Me running toward him and being knocked to the ground. A man humming to himself before I lost consciousness.
I was strapped to some kind of bed, or maybe one of those metal tables used in morgues. A morgue. Fitting if I ended up dying there.
Though the room was dimly lit, I searched the darkness. I couldn’t sit up—my wrists and ankles were tied—so I moved my head from side-to-side to look around. There were no windows in the room. The only light came from a few scattered candles and a camping lantern.
I tried to make sense of where I was. The air was damp and muggy. Stuffy. Maybe a basement? That’s when I noticed a chill on my skin, and I realized I was only wearing my boxers.
“You’re awake,” a feeble voice said from the shadows.
I stilled on the table, my heart pounding painfully against my ribcage.
“I was afraid I hit you too hard,” he continued. Footsteps sounded as he approached me. “I can give you medicine if you’re in pain.”
My gaze danced around the room as I tried to spot him. I breathed harder, faster, and yanked my arms, trying to break free from the table to no avail. And then I saw him.
He walked from the left side of the room, and upon seeing him, my throat constricted like I was about to throw up.
I’d been right about the killer being at the festival. But it wasn’t the creepy blond like I’d suspected. The guy walking toward me had shaggy brown hair and dark eyes. Shorter than me and lanky, but obviously strong enough to knock out a full grown man and carry him away.
It was the kid I’d bought water for. The one I’d fucking pitied.
“Hi again.” He stopped about a foot away from the table and linked his fingers in front of him in an awkward stance, as if he was shy.
“Is Brysen okay?” I asked before coughing at the dryness of my throat.
How long had I been out?
“He should be,” the guy answered. “I’m sorry for hurting your friend. I didn’t want to. He’s very kind and funny. I see why you like him. But I had to get you to come out of your room somehow. I waited for you, you know. For days.” He took a step closer and ran a shaking hand over my bare chest. “I’m a believer in good things coming to those who wait. And I’ve waited for you, Royal.”
My skin crawled, and I shut my eyes, hoping it was just a bad dream that I was about to wake up from.
“Ah, it’s okay.” He rubbed my chest, and I cringed at the feel of his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you, darling. See, I’ve had my eye on you for a while now. But I wasn’t sure, you know? I didn’t know if you were theonefor me. Then, I saw that co-anchor of yours. Beth Monroe. Such a beauty she was.” He withdrew his hand and started scratching at his neck…and kept scratching, like a nervous tick. “But she wasn’t beautiful on the inside, Royal. No, she was rotten.”
He slid his hands up his face and tugged at the strands of his hair.
“She said horrible things to me,” he continued, his voice shaking. “All I wanted was for her to love me back, and she spat in my face. Called me a freak.” He thrust out his arm and knocked something off the small table beside me. I flinched. “I hate that word! Freak. I made her sorry for calling me that. She was beautiful but vain, and she had to be taught a lesson. Had to be punished just like Narcissus.”
Ice flooded in my veins. If I understood him right, he’d been interested in me before he targeted Beth.
Without any warning of a serial killer being in Addersfield, I would’ve easily fallen victim to him had he picked me first. I would’ve never reconnected with Grayson, never known what it was like to be loved by him again.
“Then, my eyes went back to you.” The kid—because he was just a kid, killer or not—stopped throwing his tantrum and smiled down at me, going from angry to happy in a second flat. “They thought you killed Beth, but even if I hadn’t been the one to do it, I knew you’d never kill someone. Detectives and cops had their eyes on you. Were watching your house. So I told myself to move on. That’s when I found Jeffrey.”
Unlike when he’d talked about Beth and gotten angry, he was sad now.
“He was beautiful,” he said in a dreamy tone. “Eyes like diamonds and bronze skin made for worshipping. But he didn’t like me, either. When I brought him to my special place, he cried, Royal. Cried because he was afraid of me. I told him not to be, just like I told you. He cried anyway. I ended up killing him out of mercy.”
