Page 122 of Bitter Truths

Aaron left for class earlier, and I’m brooding on the couch when the door swings open. I’m not surprised to see Patch or even my brother, but I am relieved. This is the final chapter, and I’m willing to entertain the devil for the sake of total annihilation.

I asked Max for Patch’s contact information, and because he was fucking high, he gave it without question. Good for me, but fucking bad for him. I don’t have it in me to worry about him right now though.

“You rang?” Patch says with his signature sinister smile, but his smile slowly fades when I merely stare at him with wide eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing. You want the necklace?” I ask, coolly rising and facing him with my arms crossed.

“Bitch, you created a lot of mess for me,” he says with a sneer.

Raising a brow, I look at Max, who appears sober at least.

He’s also eyeing me like he’s never seen me before, which is true because I am no longer the girl he knew. She’s fucking deadagain,and what remains is this disgusting husk willing to trade anything for fucking oblivion.

“You know what I want,” I say quietly. “Give it to me, and you can have the necklace.”

“You think you’ve got the balls?”

I stretch my mouth into a ghastly smile, and he frowns warily, pulling out a small baggie from his pocket. “Whatever, not my problem. Here.”

Glancing at the drug, I marvel at how something so deadly could be so small, so innocuous.

“This will do it?”

“It’s fentanyl. Deadly. Don’t even touch it,” Patch warns, and I nod, bemused.

“Now what I want,” he demands.

Pulling the necklace from my pocket, I stare at the shine, the brilliant yellow stone catching the light before handing it over. Regardless of the circumstances, I feel it’s my last tie to Griff, but I’m trading it away for justice. That has to count for something.

Patch grabs it greedily and steps away, saying over his shoulder, “Good luck. Crazy bitch.”

I don’t answer. I don’t need luck. I don’t need anything but an end. Let him think what he wants. I don’t fucking care.

“Hals,” Max says quietly.

“Don’t even start. You’re a fucking mess yourself,” I mutter.

“You’re not . . . What are you going to do with that?” he asks, his brow furrowed.

“Nothing you need to know about. Just go,” I mutter, turning away from his speculation.

“Look, you’re not going to hurt yourself?”

“Max,” I say warily. “I just want this to be over.”

“No, not like this, Hals,” he says desperately, pulling me around.

“Please. You don’t fucking care.” I sneer.

“That’s not true. If I knew this was what you were doing, I—”

“What? I just saved your ass,” I say, pushing him away.

“Did you though?” he asks, cocking his head to the side.

“Huh?” I ask, staring at the wall.

“Was that the necklace, Hals?”

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