Page 178 of Under Your Scars
“That’s not helpful, Kate,” I taunt, pressing the gun harder into her skin. “Scars, tattoos, eye color. Anything.”
“Blue eyes. I remember that because Valenti told him about the contacts.”
“So you swear on your sister’s life, you didn’t tell Valenti about me? He found it out on his own? Because I find that really fucking hard to believe. If he learned all that information himself, what does he need you for?” I pause to give her a chance to answer. She doesn’t.
I put my gun away and circle around her slowly, trying to intimidate any further information from her. I can tell by her defeated gaze that she’s got nothing.
“Just tell me why, Kate. Why would you help Elena one minute, and then betray her the next? She trusted you. If it was about money, you were stupid to think that anyone’s allegiance pays better than mine.”
“It wasn’t about the money! He threatened my sister and said if I didn’t find a way to get you out of that mansion, he’d kill her and make me watch!”
“Your sister is a dead girl walking either way.”
“Do whatever you want to me. Just don’t hurt my sister.”
“Not only did you stab your friend in the back, but you put my kid in danger. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t put a bullet in the head of everyone you’ve ever loved.”
“Please! My sister is innocent. Just like El—”
Her words are cut off with a guttural gargle when I slit her throat and blood spurts from her neck across my chest and arms. I push her backwards, and she goes plummeting to the ground in the chair, still gasping for air when I place a strip of red duct tape over her mouth and leave the warehouse.
What I’ve done to her is a mercy compared to what I have planned for my shadow.
God help the man who took Elena, because she belongs to only one psychopath.
Me.
CHAPTER 55
THE ANGEL
My limbs feel heavy and my head is fuzzy, most likely from whatever sedative that psycho injected me with when he dragged me from the mansion.
I’m getting really sick of going unconscious and then waking up in a different location.
This time, instead of Frank’s private suite atop the Hellfire Lounge, I’m in an unassuming motel room.
I’m not handcuffed or gagged or bound in any way, which is honestly more unsettling. I wasn’t tied up when I was with Frank either.
The first thing I do is pick up the phone on the bedside table to call for help, but the wires have been cut. Angry, I throw the bedside lamp across the room and watch it shatter against the wall. Then I stand up, wobbly on my legs from the sedative, and limp to the door.
It’s locked from the outside. I don’t even think that’s legal. The door is a bust, so I go to the window. It’s got bars on the outside. I’m effectively trapped.
I sit on the edge of the bed and rub my face with my left hand. My blood runs cold when I notice that my wedding ring is missing. I would blame Kate for stealing it, but I’m certain that she’s already gotten paid a pretty penny for lying to Christian and I to separate us.
This is exactly what she wanted.
And we were stupid and desperate enough to fall for it.
I’ve never been stabbed in the back by a friend. Or at least someone I thought was a friend. I don’t understand why Kate would do this to me after everything she did to help me after I was raped. She kept Christian’s secret for me—or I thought she did. Now I’m not so sure.
If she told Frank or anyone else that Christian is the Silencer, then I let myself get raped for nothing, and that feels like bitter poison in my mouth.
A single tear falls out of my eye and trails down my face until it falls onto the ugly comforter tucked into the bed.
I suppose falling in love with a serial killer has desensitized me to murder, because all I can think about is how satisfying it would be to get revenge.
I look stupid now for letting her come between my marriage. I was so convinced she only had good intentions, but Christian sniffed out the lie like a shark smells blood in the water.
