But she sees me, knows what’s happening inside me, same as she always has. So, sensing that my jugular is bared, she keeps going. “You wanted something and you took it. Like the killer you are.Except this time, the thing you took had feelings. Opinions. The audacity to think she was a real live human being. Can you believe that? The balls!”
“Stop.”
“The truth hurts, doesn’t it? Almost as much as knowing she’s out there right now, probably hearing all about what you really are.”
“I said stop.”
“Your mother will tell her everything. Every bloody detail, every lie you’ve told. By the time you find her—ifyou find her—she won’t even recognize you. She’ll scream at the sight of your face, and all the poison your mother has poured into her ear will eat her alive from the inside out.” Mikayla simpers out her lower lip. “Poor little Olivia. She really thought you cared about her. Can you imagine how bad that’s going to hurt?”
Something snaps in me. My hand moves before I think and the back of it connects with Mikayla’s cheek. Not hard enough to really hurt—just enough to insult. To shut her up.
Mikayla’s head snaps to the side. When she turns back, there’s something in her eyes I’ve never seen before. Not pain from the slap—this is an inhuman gleam. Loathing and laughter mixed into one.
“Does hitting me make you feel better? Are you a big, strong man now? Are you in charge of the situation?”
I don’t answer. My hand throbs, but not from the impact. From the wrongness of it. I’ve never hit Mikayla before. Never needed to.
Taras shifts in the corner where he’s been watching silently. He catches my eye and nods toward the door. I follow him out, leaving Mikayla chained in the dim light.
“What?” I ask once we’re in the hallway.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Thanks. Really helpful.”
“I’m serious.” He leans against the wall. “You don’t see it?”
“See what?”
“She’s in love with you.”
I blink. “What?”
“Mikayla. She’s been in love with you for years. Why do you think she hates Olivia so much?” He lights a cigarette even though we’re inside. “Think about it. Eight years she’s been with you. Never taken a vacation. Never dated anyone. Always there when you need her. Miss Fuckin’ Reliable. And you never noticed because you were too busy treating her like furniture.”
I think back. All those years. Mikayla always there, always perfect, always... empty. A lump of clay to be molded how I saw fit. Or so I thought.
“Even if that’s true?—”
“It is.”
“—it doesn’t matter.”
“It does, though.” He exhales smoke. “You could use it.”
“What?”
“Her feelings. Use them. Make her think there’s a chance, that if she helps you get Olivia back, maybe...” He shrugs. “Women do stupid things for love.”
“No.”
“No? Your pregnant girlfriend is missing and you’re too noble all of the sudden to manipulate the woman who took her?”
“It would be a betrayal.”
“Of who? Mikayla? She already betrayed you.”
“Of Olivia.” I flex my hand and wince when the knuckles pop. “I won’t pretend to have feelings for another woman. Not even to save her. She deserves better than that.”