Page 121 of Dead Love
“You’re giving me all the credit,” I said. “How thoughtful of you.”
“Make this easy on me.” He stepped forward, the handcuffs dangling from his fingers. “You might even live.”
“Not my priority.”
“You’d die for something as pitiful as her honor?” He grinned. “Wow. You really are pathetic.”
It was more than that. It was the ability to give her a path that was unwritten, one that she would choose for herself. One where her mother didn’t decide, where Andrew wouldn’t be her inevitable end.
As long as he went down with me, I didn’t care what happened. I clenched my fists, my ears pounding.
“This’ll be over soon anyway,” Andrew said.
“Then let’s do this.”
He dropped the cuffs, then came forward, swinging a fist at me, the ice pick in his other hand. I ducked, then found a shovel resting on a nearby tree. I swung it toward him, the ice pick blocking my strike, and he bared his teeth. The tools banged together, one blocking the other, until finally, he swung so hard that I used the return momentum to shove his ice pick to the ground. I hurled the metal end of the shovel at his head, but he flung a foot out underneath me, knocking me to the ground, my shovel falling out of my hands.
I grinned, clutching my fists. Andrew did the same. Weightlessness filled my chest. I swung forward, landing a punch on his jaw. He used that second to sling a fist into my stomach, following with a kick in the ribs. I pulled him to the side, down the hill, back to the main part of the cemetery. The headstones stood tall, judging us, our feet running over the flattened memorial plaques. Our breaths were frenzied with recklessness. I swung at his face, knocking into his nose.
“Good always triumphs over evil,” Andrew said, pulling back and wiping his forehead. “And Iwilltriumph, Erickson.”
I got the impression that he really believed that everything he did was for the good of the citizens, for the sheriff, for the county. He was such a self-righteous prick, and yet he took innocent lives as if it restored order. But I didn’t care what he did. Who lived. Who died. I didn’t even care if I took the blame for it anymore. None of that mattered to me. The only person who mattered was Kora.
He surged forward, and I attacked him with my curled fists. His punch landed in my eye, my vision blurry, my head pounding. Another punch to my jaw. Blood filled my mouth.
“You’re a selfish prick,” Andrew said. “Abducting her. Keeping her to yourself. Depriving her of a life she deserves.”
I knew all of that and I didn’t care. I couldn’t change what had happened, and I would never take it back. But I could change what I did now. And if that meant killing Andrew—if that meant going to jail—if that meant leaving me buried in the ground while Kora moved on to thrive somewhere else, then so fucking be it.
I was a selfish prick, but I was never trying to hide that.
“At least I know what I am,” I said.
Latching onto my shoulders, he threw me to the side, and I stayed still, letting him think I was in pain, but once he got close enough, I opened myself to a punch, then immediately returned the strike to his jaw. He clutched his face, then spit blood onto one of the graves. We traveled forward, moving with the fight, down to the empty burial sites, waiting to be filled.
A second passed, both of us out of breath. We stared at each other. He pulled out his phone.
“I’m going to need you to come down to the cemetery,” he said. “Yes, Sheriff.” Then he hung up. He wasn’t using the radio then, which meant the sheriff knew exactly what was going on. How far did the corruption run?
“So how many were you planning on killing today?” Andrew asked. “With those fires. The drugs. I’m dying to know.”
“Can’t even take responsibility for it now, can you?” I said. “Why not admit what you did? What Iknowyou did. What the sheriff knows you did. I’m sure Kora knows what you did too.” My eyes twinkled with rage. “Or are you afraid?”
He narrowed his eyes at me, thinking over the words, evaluating if I was a threat. He straightened, his fists at his sides.
“I killed them,” he said in a low voice, “Each and every one of them. Sometimes with the sheriff’s help, but most of the time, all by myself. And I’ll do it again. If it means securing the sheriff’s position. If it means guaranteeing my future.”
I smashed my fist forward, and he blocked it, but I rammed forward again and again until I finally made a hit.
“You’re a corrupt bastard,” I muttered.
He punched my jaw, the pain surging to my temple. “You do understand me, don’t you, Erickson?” he sneered. “Sometimes, sacrifices have to be made. And sometimes, that means taking the lives of young ones. But all of them were criminals. Underage drinking. Drugs. Fake IDs.”
“Nyla wasn’t like that,” I said. Our fists flew at each other again. “And once Kora finds out, she will never forgive you.”
“I don’t need Kora’s forgiveness,” he snickered, kicking at my shins. “All I need is her signature on the marriage license.” He held my fist, and I grunted hard, pushing out of his grasp. He tilted his head to the side. “Trust me, Erickson, if she wants to live a good, long life, she’ll do whatever I say.”
My vision was red, blood throbbing in my ears, and I railed into him, then spun him around, wrapping him into a chokehold from behind, pulling my elbow tight, pushing on the back of his head so that his throat was against my arm. He swung a fist back, knocking my grip loose, and coughed himself awake. He came forward, his fists at his side, and I punched hard but missed, and he shoved me backward. I stumbled into one of the empty graves. Darkness fell over me, the sides shadowing the bottom of the pit.
