Page 122 of No Saint

“You made me do that,” He growls, voice muffled as if speaking from behind a pillow, “That was your fault.”

He paces back and forth in front of me, mumbling to himself but I can’t understand what with the ringing in my ears.

“Right about now,” He crouches and grips my face, forcing me to look at him. His voice seems tinny but now he’s closer I can hear him, “He would have made it home. Seen you missing. He would have found my note.”

“I hope he rips out your heart.” I spit weakly.

“He’s coming for you right now, Amelia.”

“No.”

“Yes, but don’t worry,” he slides his finger down the side of my face, almost tenderly, “I won’t force you to watch your husband die but him, he’ll witness it when I take your life.”

I swallow.

“Maybe there’s an afterlife,” he shrugs, “he’ll find you again if there is, I’m sure.”

“You don’t have to do this, Asher.”

“Oh but, Amelia, I do. It’s already started.”

“No man will ever stand behind you if you do this.”

“Accidents happen all the time, Amelia and those who know the truth? They won’t live long enough to rat.”

He snatches away from me, leaving me with those words as he drags a chair from the side of the room and casually takes a seat, propping his ankle on his knee and checking the time.

“I give it half an hour,” he calls over, “I would suggest you make peace with whatever business you are leaving behind.”

I want to ask about my son, want to know what he has planned for him after this, but I don’t want to bring attention to him. If Gabriel has any sense, he’ll get Lincoln and send him far, far away from this. I’d ask Camille if I could, tell her to take him and run.

I would hurt but he’d be safe. Alive.

Gabriel wouldn’t come.

He wouldn’t.

My body slowly becomes numb, the pain dulling. Vaguely I was aware this was how shock started but it didn’t matter.

Don’t come Gabriel, please. Do not come for me.

I hadn’t realized I’d said it out loud until Asher strolls over to me, his body a blur.

“Your prayers are useless,” He turns his phone screen, showing me. I blink through the fogginess at the image. Gabriel’s car and the man himself climbing out. “He’s already here.”

47

Come to this address.

Alone.

If I see one person with you, I put a bullet in her skull.

I’ll be waiting.

No name. But I had a feeling.

The house was old, falling apart with boarded up windows and a half wild garden, the grass as tall as my thighs and the bushes overgrown, thorns snagging at the jacket covering my arms.

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