Page 36 of Ruined

“Did you…” I can barely form the question. It seems like such a mad thing to ask. “Did you have anything to do with what happened to my womb?”

There. It’s out. I’m asking him if he was behind the worst incident in my life. I’m trusting him to answer honestly, which is possibly the maddest thing I have ever done.

“Did I fix you, Riley? Did I have you spayed like an animal?”

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Let’s say I had. Would you hate me? Or would you see that it is far better for a woman like you in a world like this never to bear life? There is no world in which you are mine, and you have offspring, Riley. We do not live in the world of those who have the luxury of breeding family.”

His words are harsh, delivered in that accent that makes every syllable art, even terrible ones. I feel the walls of my mind closing in with the terrible possibility that the man I have sold my soul to has taken not only my life, but the lives of all those who might have come after me.

“Is that a yes?” I whisper the question.

“You were in my home. You were harmed in my care. Yes, I bear some responsibility for that. Did I do it? Did I pull the trigger? Was I reckless enough to have you hit with a bullet that could easily have hit an artery as an organ? No.”

I believe him.

But perversely, I think there was some part of me that wanted his answer to be yes. I wanted him to have taken everything from me. I wanted everything, my joy, my pain, my twisted sickness, all to belong to him.

“You are disappointed,” he says, observant as ever. “Did you want it to be my fault? Did you want to have a reason to loathe me? Or did you want to be my perfect little victim, losing both body and mind to me?”

“I don’t know,” I mumble.

“You do, and so do I. You can always be my perfect little victim, Riley.”

16

Bobby and I become twin terrors. Whenever Angelo unleashes us, we are as brutal as we are efficient. The sight of a dark-haired man and a blonde woman is enough to send the criminal underworld into paroxysms of fear. We have not toned our approach down at all. If anything, we are growing bolder every time Angelo sends us out, trusting that he will never let us come to any harm.

We do damage as we see fit, and we see fit to do a lot of damage. Bobby was always violent and reckless, but together we are worse than either one of us could ever be singly.

I kick the door to our next target open. Bobby’s taught me how to kick near the strike plate in a way that makes the door fly open wide. It’s super dramatic, and incredibly fun.

The door blasts out of the strike plate, hits the far side of the wall on its rotation, and comes off the top and middle hinges. I turn to Bobby with a huge grin.

“That was a good one, huh?”

“Real good, Riley.” He grins back.

That’s the last thing I hear properly. There’s a sound that is so loud it seems to obliterate my ears, and a flash of light so bright my entire vision goes opaque.

“FREEZE!” That word is boomed around me.

I freeze.

Somewhere in the smoke, Bobby has been snatched away. I am left behind, surrounded by a ring of barrels.

“HANDS UP. ON YOUR HEAD. ON YOUR KNEES.”

The orders ring out in quick, clipped, aggressive succession.

I am surrounded by cops, and I know that one wrong move will bring down a hail of bullets, followed by oblivion.

* * *

I don’t know where I am, precisely. Could be any precinct or field office. These rooms are all the same, and I’ve had a hood over my head since they took me.

“Long time no see, Riley.”

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