Page 39 of Mad Love

His eyes narrowed. “I would’ve thought that if anyone would understand, it was you.”

“Me?” I gaped at him.

Evan’s head tilted, like I was a puzzle he couldn’t quite work out. “You know what it’s like to struggle every day. To be abandoned and hurt by the people who were supposed to protect you. To grow up living in fear, starving and cold. I swore I’d break the cycle.”

“So did I, but somehow serial killer wasn’t the way my pendulum swung. I wanted to be better. Do better.” I shook my head and waved a hand at him. “You became a worse version.”

He inclined his head. “Perhaps.”

“How long did you work for Gary before he asked you to kill my sister?” As twisted as it was, I was learning more now from Evan and his sociopathic nonchalant answers than I had in the last eight months.

He eyed me with suspicion. “Why?”

“I’m wondering if you were there the whole time Madelaine was being abused,” I replied. “I’m wondering if you knew Adam was hurting her.”

“Yes,” Evan replied. “Madelaine told me about him. About what he used to do to her and when she decided it was easier to give into his advances. That was when she learned to use sex to manipulate men. The only one she couldn’t influence was her father. That was a line not even he would cross.”

“Thank God for small mercies,” I spat. “You’re an asshole.”

“Why? Because I didn’t care? Because I accepted long ago that I could be the hunter or the prey and chose the one that ensured I wasn’t a victim?” His gaze hardened. “Don’t be deliberately obtuse. Do what Gary wants and stay out of his way.”

“Or what? He’ll have you seduce and kill me, too?” I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

“No,” he answered. “You’re it, Madison. There is no fallback plan. Madelaine is dead, and that means Gary has no one else to use except you. He won’t kill you, but he’ll make you beg for death every day for the rest of your life if you test him. That little old lady was a warning. He’ll kill everyone you love, brutalize and violate them. He’ll take them apart and make you watch every second.”

I swallowed and edged back from him, from the promise of violence and pain in his eyes.

His gaze slid past me. “You have less than two hours to get ready. Don’t be late.” He turned and left, sliding past my mom as she came into my room.

She faced me, one of her eyes puffy and swollen, her cheek still red and starting to bruise. She offered a brittle smile. “Let’s get you ready for tonight.”

“I can get ready by myself,” I snapped.

Her eyes narrowed and she closed the door before coming to stand in front of me, her toes brushing mine. “You’re not going to ruin this for me, Madison. Now, get yourself into that shower while I get your outfit ready. Your father selected it special for this evening.”

Of course he had. Probably picked the underwear, too.

Part of me wanted to argue. To fight her and dig in. But I was tired, and this wasn’t necessarily a battle I needed to worry about. If Gary and Mom wanted to dress me up like a doll and parade me in front of a guy they thought could tame me, good for them.

And good luck.

* * *

The pale blue dress wasn’t the worst thing I’d ever worn. Honestly, part of me wondered if Gary would dress me up in something short and tight so that the guy he was selling me to could see all the goods on display.

With its corseted bodice and skirt that flared into soft layers around my knees, the silk dress was actually something I might’ve picked for myself. It was the kind of dress a little girl would twirl in until she fell over from dizziness. The thin straps were beaded with pearls that matched the choker on my neck and the pearl studs in my ears.

Mom had tried doing something with my hair, but she’d never been good at more than a sloppy ponytail, so I finished the task myself, pulling it back into a long French braid with a few pieces framing my face. Once that was done, I applied my own makeup while Mom watched and made comments.

No black eyeliner. Neutral eyeshadow colors. Soft pink lip gloss.

As I finished slicking a third coat of gloss onto my lips—because the extra shine was needed, apparently—Mom pulled out a pair of white ballet flats and dropped them at my feet.

After I put them on, I got up and looked at myself in the mirror. A second later, Mom appeared at my back and beamed. “Beautiful.”

I resisted the urge to snort. Sure, I looked great if the guy was into the Lifetime-movie battered fiancée look.

Bruises dotted my body. My arms, wrists, legs… The choker hid the majority of the one on my throat, but there was no denying I’d been through some shit. I briefly wondered if whoever Gary was pushing me onto would be horrified or turned on by all the marks.

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