Page 54 of Sinister Legacy
Keira’s mine.
Not Liam’s or anyone else’s.
Only fucking mine.
My phone inside my jeans pocket burns my leg. The easiest way to eliminate Liam would be to forward Keira the picture I have of him and Cassie, but I don’t want to use it just yet.
And maybe I like the idea of killing him? He has fucked her, after all.
I fucking hate knowing another man has felt her wrapped around his dick. The damn thought buzzes in my head like an annoying mosquito I need to crush beneath my palm.
Buried beneath the quilt, Keira stirs beside me before snuggling close. I don’t dare breathe, and the foreign feeling inside my chest chokes me more than any hands could.
Until Liam is out of the picture, I can’t let myself wake up next to Keira. I just won’t let myself be that fucking vulnerable with her, and I refuse to let her see the power she holds over me. Not until he’s gone.
With those thoughts swirling inside my head, I carefully extract myself from beneath Keira’s arm that’s wrapped around my waist.
It’s easy to slip away when I’m already fully dressed. It’s even easier to go unnoticed when the cops are asleep in the cop car.
I’m cocooned in the quilt as the bright morning sun rouses me. I wake to a rancid smell, and my nose scrunches up when I glide my hand across the cold mattress.
King is gone.
“King? What’s that smell?” Blinking my eyes open, I push up on an elbow and rub my tired face before lowering my hand back down.
I stare at the empty pillow beside me.
Only it’s not empty.
Buzzing flies.
Mottled blue, rotten, and maggot-eaten skin.
Empty eye sockets.
A gaping mouth.
Scrambling off the bed, I release a terrified scream, and my hand flies up to my mouth as I begin to retch at the sight of the severed head on the pillow. Footsteps sound on the stairs, and then my mom and stepdad burst through the door and come to a stumbling halt, their eyes widening. I’m still naked from the waist down, dressed in my crop top and denim jacket. The insides of my thighs are coated with King’s crusted cum, but that’s the least of my worries.
Collapsing to the floor, I empty my stomach’s content. It churns violently while my stepdad runs to alert the cops outside.
He soon returns, pale and shaking, clutching the house phone in his hand. “They’re dead…”
Crouched beside me and rocking me in her arms as though I am a toddler in need of comfort, Mom looks up at him. “What?”
“They’re dead. The fucking cops are dead! There’s blood everywhere…”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Her voice shakes.
My stepdad phones the emergency services while Mom leads me out of my room and downstairs to the kitchen. She guides me to sit at the table before putting the kettle on. Then she returns, pulling out the chair next to mine and taking my hands in hers.
“Everything will be okay, sweetheart.”
“He was in my room,” I whisper shakily, staring at the flowery tablecloth.And King? Where is he? Is he okay? Did the killer murder him, too?
Instead of replying, Mom stands up and proceeds to pour us each a coffee. She flurries around the kitchen while my mind replays the moment I opened my eyes and saw Jasper’s severed head.
On my pillow.
