Page 27 of Lovely Violent Things

“It’s true that we embody the violence of the stars,” he says, and I can hear the smirk in his voice. The darkness grows denser the farther we head down the gravel road. “But destruction isn’t an end, it’s a beginning.”

“Christ, you don’t stop,” I mutter, my teeth chattering from the chilly, wet air. “Maybe I deserve this.”

Although I wasn’t found at fault for the car accident that took Jackson’s life, I was the one driving. I wanted to be punished. I begged the universe to punish me. And it has finally answered.

I stumble over a pothole. Kallum reaches out to catch my arm, but I snatch it away and walk faster.

“The ancient Greeks thought of Apollo as the superior god, their god of rational thought,” he continues, undeterred. “But when a satyr of Dionysus challenged Apollo in a competition, he had him flayed alive for his audacity.”

I hug my midsection, uselessly trying to shelter my body from the rain. “What am I supposed to glean here, Kallum.”

“That it’s not our logic and reason which stops us from committing such monstrous acts.”

My steps falter. Turning to face him, I stare at him through the barrage of rain.

“Are you insane?” I ask him outright. “Are you really, Kallum. Because…I don’t know if you’re crazy or a genius, or if it’s all an act. At this point, I’m seriously questioning my ability to discern the difference.”

A crooked smile tips his mouth. He takes a step toward me, and I take a reflexive step back. “I’m crazy for you.” His gaze drifts over my body, deliberately taking in my soaked shirt. “Fucking certifiable. Capable of the most vile, monstrous acts.”

I feel exposed under his heated stare. I tighten my arms around my waist and blink the droplets from my lashes. “Then confess them.”

He licks the rain from his lips, his gaze locked with mine. His silence is louder than the storm.

I nod knowingly. “No way to lie if you say nothing at all.”

Kallum smoothes his wet hair back. “Tagore said it best. The small truth has words which are clear; the great truth has great silence.”

“And someone important once said… Truth is the object of philosophy, but not always the philosopher.”

His smirk is devilish. “Did you google that just for me?”

“Maybe,” I admit, and stare down at a puddle deepening around my boots. “I didn’t kill Detective Emmons’ brother,” I say suddenly.

“I know,” Kallum says. “Neither did I.”

I swallow hard as I look up to meet his eyes. “I didn’t kill Professor Wellington.”

He watches me closely, his wet hair pitch-black, the strands dripping rivulets of rain down the beautiful contours of his face. “I didn’t kill Wellington,” he finally says.

The whole truth hovers on a tenuous heartbeat. I don’t breathe. “I didn’t—”

“This isn’t a confessional,” he interrupts. “I told you, when the case is closed, I’ll give you all the answers you seek. I keep my word. But that deal has a stipulation.”

I suck in a breath. “To trust your methods. Right. The ones that lured me into a sex ritual.” My face flushes despite the frigid air, my heart pounds my ribs like the rhythmic drumming slithering up from my memory.

A dark flame ignites behind Kallum’s gaze. “But you got one of your answers, didn’t you.”

“What I got was fired from my job,” I snap.

He shrugs unapologetically. “You hated that job.”

Indignation rears hot and fierce. “I’m going to go clear my name, then beg Alister to let me stay on the task force so I can locate the victims and put an end to this madness.”

Kallum’s features harden at the mention of the agent. A rumble of thunder builds in the distance. I turn and start down the road.

“Then what?” he asks, a hard dare edged around his words. “Reopen the Cambridge case? Turn yourself in to be investigated? There are better, more satisfying ways to uncover your answers, sweetness.”

A flash of the ritual steals across my vision, snatching the breath from my lungs. Kallum’s hand around my throat, his kiss burning through me. The sigil he carved on my thigh pulses at the memory.

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