Page 99 of Bound to a Killer
Then, quietly, a faint jolt of panic threads between her words. “Where are we going?”
It’s barely more than a whisper, stretched thin, almost breathless. It slips free as I round the corner, and I catch the way she stiffens. This isn’t the way to her house.
It hits me now just how vulnerable she is. How alone she must feel right now, sitting in this car with me, no clue as to where we’re headed.
Not knowing if I’ve changed my mind.
If I’m taking her away again. This time for good.
Her life rests completely in my hands, at the mercy of whatever depraved compulsion I keep finding in myself. It’s up to me whether I crush what’s left of her…or set her free.
A low growl sounds from beside me, pulling my attention back. She’s gone still again, hands knotted in her lap, knuckles straining white.
“Do they not feed you at these things?” I grumble, veering into a random plaza with a burger joint tucked in the back.
Her voice is light and feathery when she responds. “I didn’t stay long enough, I think.”
I would’ve missed it if I hadn’t been so focused on her every breath.
I know nothing about prom, aside from the fact that I skipped mine my senior year to arrange my parents’ funeral. That was the day I crossed paths with Antonio.
The day I stopped being the carefree kid I used to be.
It died with them, buried beside the illusion of a life I hadn’t realized was already rotting from the inside. Well hidden behind closed doors.
I’ve been hollow ever since. Numb in places I didn’t know emotion could reach. Grief, rage, desire. It all had sunk so deep that I stopped checking if it was still there. I sealed it off years ago, locked behind years of willful avoidance and silence.
No one’s ever come close to dragging those feelings back to the surface the way Aria has.
Before her, I’d been detached from everything, including my own connections. That’s why I stayed tethered to The Ringer for as long as I did.
That’s the thing about survival—it keeps you breathing, but it comes at a price. It strips you down, corners you, forces you to make trades you can’t come back from. One day you look up and realize you’ve dug in too deep. An endless hole void of light.
Little by little, your heart hardens. What once felt unthinkable doesn’t even make you blink anymore. You come to expect the worst. And what’s worse than that—you stop caring.
Aria might think I spared her because there’s something worth salvaging in me. That it means I still have something left to give.
What she doesn’t understand is that once a soul begins to decay, it doesn’t stay contained. It spreads, slow and silent, until it swallows everything in its path.
I’ll ruin her. And I’ll never forgive myself for it.
A renewed anguish sears my chest as I round the back of the building and pull up to the intercom.
My eyes flick across the menu, scanning fast to avoid stalling longer than necessary. I rattle off item after item, working down a mental checklist, covering every base I can without pausing to ask what she wants, and then pull forward to the pickup window.
It’s best we avoid sparking anyone’s interest while we wait. All it takes for trouble to ensue is a single wandering pair of eyes sneaking in looks through my car, probing and making assumptions about why I have a young, disheveled girl who looks like she belongs in high school sitting beside me, her makeup streaked, distress still etched across her face.
It doesn’t look good for me. Especially when you tie in our clashing attire, her refined yet still distinctly youthful dress stark next to my casual black t-shirt and jeans.
I angle my body to block her from the camera overhead as we wait. No one else needs to see her. Talk to her.
With my attention now fully locked on her, my gaze dips to the swell of her chest beneath the tight neckline, the pink fabric pulled taut, accentuating the rise and fall of her breath.
That same pink bleeds upward, into her chest, along her throat, across her cheeks, until the flush echoes the flaming glow from the photo. The one I just deleted. The one that was meant for me.
She swallows, mustering the courage to meet my eyes again. “You showed up.”
A vein pulses in my hand where it grips the wheel. Only then do I realize how tightly I’ve been holding it.
