Page 106 of Bound to a Killer
It’s exactly what I feared it being. Contrived. Coercive. Forced.
Born out of survival.
I don’t want Aria to keep clawing her way through survival. I want her to thrive. But deep down, I know she won’t, not withme dragging her into the same fire that’s been eating me alive for the past decade.
Killing my engine, I step out into the late spring breeze, my fists at my sides as the rangy officer steps forward, his flashlight cutting across the dark between us.
“You here to pick her up?” he asks, his other hand propped near his utility belt. His pale eyes crease at the corners, reflecting authority beneath the moonlight, but not hostility.
I give a curt nod and jerk my head toward her. “I came as soon as she called.”
“Look, I’ll keep it brief and tell you exactly what I told her,” he says. “She’s not in any serious trouble, just got a citation for not having her license on her. Honestly, the scare she took prior to me showing up was enough. This place is littered with homelessness and addicts. Not a great place to drive around in, especially at night. She’s lucky I was still around out here doing a quick sweep so I could wait until someone came for her.”
“I appreciate that,” I tell him, reminding myself to unclench my teeth before the ache in my jaw travels to my head. She’s fine now. I’m just grateful someone was watching out for her, even if it’s someone dressed in the devil’s uniform, blue and black, the beacon they all still believe in.
Aria’s still watching us anxiously, her lips caught between her teeth, the same way she looked during the few times I flicked my eyes over to check on her. She’s probably still on edge from everything that’s happened, or maybe afraid the cop’s starting to piece something together from us standing side by side, not realizing that’s not how it works. It takes reason, a cause, some kind of lead to follow. None of which they have. That’s not why this particular police officer is here. To him, I’m just some guy she’s called to pick her up.
I give him a tight-lipped smile, one I’m barely holding together, ready to get through the interaction. “I’ll make sure she gets home just fine.”
My eyes drift to her car again, his own eyes tracking it, too. “About the car. It won’t be towed or anything, but people tend to pick apart what’s left out too long around here, but it’s up to you how you guys want to handle that. Whether it’s now or when the sun is out.”
“Got it,” I say, giving a sharp incline of my head. I’ll figure her car out later, after I make sure Aria is safe and secure and I get her out of here.
He takes a beat to look everything over before his eyes land back on mine, his head slowly bobbing. “Well, alright then. If you don’t have any other questions for me, you two are set to go.”
Thank fuck. Felt like he was never going to finish his speech.
My insides recoil as I play along, lips pulling into a stiff smile as I wave him off, only for him to glance over his shoulder at the last minute.
“Oh, and by the way?—”
Fucking hell.
“Next time either of you needs to clear your head, try opting for a walk around the block instead. It’s what I tell everybody. Safer.”
“Will do,” I clip, already jabbing my thumb at the keys to unlock my car.
He chuckles as he climbs into his own and flashes his lights, then pulls away, his tires cracking over stray gravel. I wait long enough to make sure he’s gone before my gaze shifts back to Aria. Then past her, to my car, parked just behind.
Without a word, she catches on, stepping out and walking the short stretch toward me. Her legs tremble faintly as she reaches for the handle.
I round the hood and slide into the driver’s seat just as she pulls the door shut beside me.
She doesn’t look at me when she climbs in, settling into thepassenger seat with the kind of ease that makes it feel inevitable. Like the space was waiting for her, tailored to nobody else but her.
“Thank you for coming,” she whispers. Her eyes stay on her lap, fingers fidgeting in that old nervous habit of hers, but what strikes me more than that is how the tremors start to fade, gradually, as she settles in. The tension still lingers, but it’s softened now, muted beneath the quiet comfort of our familiarity.
“What happened?” I ask, calm and patient despite the nerve ticking along my jaw. She could’ve gotten hurt while I wasn’t watching, wasn’t aware. But she didn’t. She called me.
Her bottom lip wobbles before she catches it between her teeth, cautiously lifting her head to look into my eyes, misted and gutted, my heart cinching at the sight of her pain.
“He’s back,” she says, her voice tight and raw from the cataclysm of tears she’s already shed. “My mom’s ex, Steven—h-he’s back.”
A harrowing beat passes between us, filled only by her raw, stifled sobs, each one adding to the acute jab that stabs the base of my throat as I struggle to swallow. “The one who touched you as a kid?”
The tip of her nose flares as she uses her sleeve to scrub at it, lashes batting furiously to wipe away the gut-wrenching droplets clinging to them.
“I-I tried calling a friend f-first, but she didn’t answer, and I didn’t know w-what to do.”
