Page 35 of Start A War (Saint View Psychos)

I stood. “It’s one that you really need to see.”

“Why do people keep saying that to me?”

Her voice was such a low murmur I wasn’t sure I’d heard properly. “I beg your pardon?”

She shook her head, and her ponytail swished. “It’s nothing. Let’s see your secret.”

“We need to go outside for a moment.”

Bethany-Melissa scanned the room. “There’s not many kids here yet. We won’t be missed for a moment. If you’re quick.”

“I will be.”

We ducked outside, and I jogged to my car and pointed through the window. “Look.”

Little Dog had a setup fit for a queen on the back seat. Treats, food, water, and of course, her fluffy pink dog bed. I’d left all the windows down a bit so she’d have enough air.

Bethany-Melissa squealed. “Oh my God, is this your dog? She’s so cute!” But then she spotted the cast, or maybe the cuts and grazes. “What happened? Is she okay?”

“I’ve only just adopted her. She was hit by a car I was driving behind on Monday night.”

Bethany-Melissa clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide in horror. “No!”

“He left her for dead on the side of the road.” The evil part of me whispered something in my ear, and I couldn’t resist his demands to repeat it out loud. “I would have reported it to the police, but I only caught half the number plate. C-A-L-E…but I didn’t quite get the rest of it.”

The color drained out of Bethany-Melissa’s face. “Cale… The last number wasn’t an eight, was it?”

Yes.

“Might have been. Why?”

“Never mind. The main thing is she’s okay.” She glanced up at me. “We can’t leave her in the car all day though.”

I frowned. “I left the windows down.”

“Why didn’t you just leave her at home?”

“There’s no one there. I didn’t want her to be lonely, and I can at least have lunch with her if she’s here.”

She smiled. “That’s very sweet.”

I shrugged. “I haven’t had a pet for a really long time. I’m not really sure what to do with them. My last dog died when I was seven.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“We never forgave my mother for that.”

Bethany-Melissa’s eyebrows furrowed together. “Excuse me?”

“She killed my dog.” Which was the real reason I’d been too scared to leave Little Dog at home today. I’d promised my mother I’d do the hit, but I knew her. Loving something, or worse, someone, was a weakness when it came to her. It didn’t matter who it was, woman, child, or helpless rescue dog. If hurting that thing, or even killing it, meant she could control me, then she’d do whatever it took. I had a lifetime of stories to back up my claims. Which was why if I wanted a wife and a family, and to leave the family business behind me, then I had to get my mother to agree to it.

Bethany-Melissa’s horrified expression made me realize I’d said too much.

“It was an accident,” I assured her.

Doubtful.

“She was backing the car out of our driveway when he ran out.”

Her horrified expression morphed into something more like sympathy. “Oh. That’s so sad. I bet she felt awful.”

I knew better than to tell her how my mother had looked me in the eye as she’d run down our dog without an ounce of remorse.

Like mother, like son. I might have liked animals more than she did, but remorse wasn’t something either of us did well.

I had to get the crazy from someone.

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