Page 83 of Beautiful, Violent

“Anything.”

“What do you plan to do when King is out of the picture?” His green eyes make me shiver when he looks at me this time. There’s a coldness in his stare I’ve not seen before. I try to ignore it but I find myself tugging the front of my sweater closed.

“I plan to celebrate.”

He stares at me quietly a beat. “And then what?”

“And then … I go on with my life. A feeling of accomplishment. Of retribution filling my soul. Maybe I’ll even sleep better knowing he can’t hurt anyone ever again.”

Rigger makes prayer hands, brings them to his mouth, taps a few times as he holds my gaze. “Those all go without saying, Tove. What are you going todo? What will be your new purpose?”

I breathe deeply, allowing my mind to go there, to what life will be like once it’s all over.

WhatwillI do? Have I actually been so preoccupied with finding King that I haven’t given thought to the rest of my life?

“I don’t know. It’s a good question. Maybe get to know my brother or sister? What do you plan to do?”

He exhales hard, kicks a few rocks on the ground with his boot. “I’m having to relocate. For work.”

If I thought I was cold a second ago it’s nothing compared to the way those words slice through me like icy daggers.

“What?”

“Yeah.” He rubs his beard. “In a couple weeks. I’ll be heading to Guam for a month or so.”

“Oh,” I breathe, throwing a hand over my heart. “So you’re coming back. God, don’t scare me like that.”

My phone dings in my pocket and I reach for it.

“No,” Rigger says, his voice low and hollow. “I’m not coming back. After I’m done in Guam they’re moving me to Virginia.”

I let go of my phone, moving my hands over my mouth. It feels like someone has wrapped their fingers around my throat, squeezing so tight I can hardly breathe.

“Virginia? What the hell is in Virginia?”

Rigger blows out a sad laugh. “A new office where I’ll be training some recruits.”

“So … no more field work?”

A shake of the head, eyes closed. I can see how disappointed Rigger is.

But it’s nothing compared to how I feel, losing my best friend to a long-ass move across the country.

“Well, fuck.” I pull my hair back feeling absolutely gutted. Like someone has reached inside my chest and punched my heart raw.

“Sorry. I didn’t exactly know how to break the news to you.”

Knives twist in my chest. “How long have you known?”

“A while.”

“How long is a while?”

“I don’t know, maybe a month?”

“Amonth?” I turn on my heels, not really sure why I’m so mad at him. It’s obviously been hard for him to keep it from me.

“Give or take,” he grunts.

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