Page 66 of Bound to a Killer
Frankie stiffens ahead, horrified at the interaction unraveling right before her, fresh tears scalding down her cheeks in rivulets of relief, but also guilt. Even she knows there is no hope left for me.
Dread seizes me entirely. It spreads down to my limbs, numbing them in response until the heaviness dissipates and it starts to feel like I’m floating. If only I could float out of here. Escape the dreariness of the warehouse. Soar to freedom. But that’s not how this works. My wings are clipped, and I’m backed into a dead end with no hope in sight. He’ll never risk his sister for me. He shouldn’t have to. She’s his sister. Family.
Who am I, besides the girl who's stirred up trouble for himtime and again—yet still, he suspended his own safety for mine?
Everything’s starting to become clearer now that I’m facing my imminent death. All the times I fought, struggled, and ran. He could’ve hurt me for them. He had ample opportunity to throw up his hands and surrender. Hand me over and be done with it.
But he didn’t.
He never gave up on me.
He put years of loyalty, friendship, and security on the line. For me. To protect me.
And I villainized him for it.
Frankie chokes on her words, caught between short, panicked breaths. “There has to be another way.” Remorse burns behind her blown pupils, sharp as light through a magnifying glass, blinding. I look away, my eyes catching on the tension blooming across my hands, my knuckles a pale contrast against the black leather I cling to.
I want to hate her. Despise her for being the source of my bleak end, but I can’t. This isn’t her fault, or his, or even my own.
It’s just my rotten luck finally making its way to me.
Unavoidable.
Just like every other tragedy that’s riddled me along the way since my father’s departure. There’s no other path that could be forged besides the one I’m destined for, and it looks like my fight ends here.
An exasperated expression rolls behind Antonio’s eyes as he tightens his arm around Frankie’s neck to quiet her again. “You stay out of this,” he grunts, aggravated and impatient.
“Let her fucking go,” Ledger growls, his body radiating with heated fury as his eyes flick from Antonio to lock on Tanner, whose eyes glint with stubborn desperation.
“He’ll let her go the moment you bring him Aria,” he says,his tone weakening like he’s afraid of what Ledger might say. As if he’ll ever risk Frankie’s life for my own.
He’s already given his answer, but he’s made no move to hand me over. His mind must be reeling with ways to absolve us both, but it’s futile.
We won’t both make it out alive.
I know it.
Tears well again, stinging the edges of my eyes with a heartbreaking acceptance.
She knows it, too. Which is why guilt still shines in her eyes as they hold mine, a silent apology.
He mostdefinitelyknows it. It’s why I feel him straining beneath my fingertips, his body like a boulder, unwilling to budge, because he knows that once he does—and eventually, he will—I’ll be done for.
If I try to run now, I’ll just get shot on the spot. A pathetic, lonely way to go. I’d rather accept my death with dignity. Everything else is out of my scope of control…but not this. How I react? My response to injustice? That’s my own. Nobody can take that away from me.
Antonio snaps again, his feet shifting restlessly. “You said he’d be on board, Scott.” His tone is seething, his face molten with rage. A curled finger twitches against the trigger to his gun, and I recoil.
What if he decides to shoot all of us?
The thought sends chills rippling down my spine. I shake it off, coming to terms that if he wanted them all dead, he would’ve done it already.
The only thing in the way of reconciliation isme. I’m the cork in a shaken bottle, wedged between him and the rest of his crew. Once popped off, they’ll celebrate their reunion, and life will go on exactly as it had before I ever came into the picture.
My throat tightens. I know, despite Ledger’s previousthreats, that that isn’t entirely true. But I can’t accept the alternative. It hurts too much.
Eventually, the memory of me will fade, and any regret will be buried here in time. Forgotten. Ancient.
It’s easier to believe that than risk knowing that there could’ve been more for us, an alternate ending of my choosing. The possibility now feels crushing.
