Page 101 of Come Back To Me

The Saint smiles. It’s malicious. “I started digging into Costa like I said I would, and they told me—the Irish. Or more so, the IrishmanI bribed to tell me, did. You met him this morning.” He must tell by my face that a jolt of shock is shooting through me. “Those photos you retrieved? Pictures of his wife and kids. He truly was an easy one to make talk you know. Cracked within an hour of our first meeting. Even up until this morning, he proved very useful.”

The Irish man ratted about the ambush to protect his wife and kids? Shame and guilt swallow me whole. I wouldn’t rat. But his wife and his kids?Fuck.I get it.

“Does having loved ones make you weak?” The Saint asks.

Luke’s skin has paled. His forehead beads with panicked sweats. Every muscle in my body tenses. “They give you something to live for.”

The Saint’s lips curl upwards mechanically. “Of course they do.” He stands, slowly withdrawing the knife from Luke. The sickly noise of his tissue squelching turns my stomach.

Luke’s hand automatically goes to the open area as his head drops to the table.

“Finish it.”

I look up to The Saint, my lips parted with doubt. “Not a fucking chance.” My tone is firm.

“Confident of you given the circumstances.” The Saint stalks around the table, the tip of the blade he scrapes across thesurface. “This is the last kill I need from you.”

“No. He hasn’t done anything.”

“True. But he’ll be the difference between you surviving in here, or you winding up dead. Remember, we run on fear and favours.”

“Still no.”

I’m struck from behind, one of the men’s fists striking my neck.

My body slumps forward, just like Luke’s. I’m still here. Still with it. Still vaguely aware of the voices in the room. My head swims like I’m on a fairground ride the way my brain washes from side to side. Round and round.

“Stay with me, boy. Almost over.”

Lifting my head an inch off the table, I look at Luke. He’s motionless, but I can just about see him still breathing. There’s a woosh to his breath, the hole in his side desperately sucking in air.

“Luke.” My voice is pathetic.

“Put him out of his misery,” The Saint instructs.

“No.” I can’t. I won’t.

Pulling a handful of his hair, The Saint lifts Luke’s head off the table.

I’m suddenly grabbed from behind, one man either side of me, lifting me forward. They throw me on the table, my face so close to Luke’s. I can hear his throat gargling as blood floods his lungs, drowning him.

“Finish him and it’s done. No more kills. No more watching over your shoulder. You can find the source and live out the rest of your days in here in relative peace.”

My eyes bore into Luke’s face. If Mollie doesn’t win my case and I’m sentenced to live out my days here, I’m not going to survive without alliances. But if she does, and I go home, could I live with myself knowing I killed my friend?You haven’t knownhim long. Do it! Don’t let anything stop you from surviving. For you, for Mads. It’s one more kill. Just one!

“What’s it going to be?” The Saint mocks my situation. My right arm is lifted, and the knife he used on Luke is forced into my hand.

I try to straighten my fingers, but the prick holding me swaps his elbow on my back for his knee. I can’t move. He uses two hands to wrap my fingers around the handle.

The blood in my veins pumps loud. The rapturous beat drowning out everything else. “Are you strong enough to do anything for you family?” I barely hear The Saint’s words. All I can hear is Mads.Come back to me.

The blade moves forwards against my will. I try with all my might to slow the movement, but I’m not in control. The edge pushes against the thin layer of skin under Luke’s chin. Blood already starts to fall.

“End it,” The Saint pushes again.

Jamming my eyes closed, I don’t want to watch. I swallow hard, biding any morsel of time that I can salvage.

“Dean,” Luke’s hoarse voice croaks. I open my eyes. His head being held is unsteady, unable to hold his own weight. “Do it.”

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