Ruin My Life (Mangled Masterpieces #1)

60. Remy

60

Remy

Fifteen Minutes Earlier

I might be a hypocrite.

But for a good reason.

Soft music filters through my truck’s speakers, doing jack-shit to calm the jittering anxiety coursing through me. This nagging, awful feeling hasn’t left all day. It started in the middle of class earlier. Though… my sixth sense wasn’t wrong. The evil whore pounced the moment she saw an opening. Sure, I threatened her and Win gave his statement, but nothing has erased the impending doom looming over my head.

I can’t shake it.

Historically, the most dangerous time for a victim is after taking proactive action against their abuser. While Grant and Marcus are already in custody thanks to concrete evidence from the other assaults, Jessica hasn’t been arrested yet. And if the desperate, panicked look in her eyes told me anything, it’s that she’ll go to any length to avoid the consequences of her actions.So yeah, I followed my boyfriend to his meeting in Cape Cannon— not because I didn’t trust him, but because there’s a massive target painted on his back.

Am I justifying my light stalking? Maybe. But I’m not taking any chances.

Not when it comes to Win.

My phone screen lights up. Speak of the devil.

Hey baby, meeting went well. Not really in the mood to stay at my parents… You at your place?

I immediately shoot off a response, avoiding the question. From my spot on the side of the church, I watch a small group scatter across the parking lot into various vehicles… but no raven-haired, tatted, boy in a black hoodie. My fingers drum nervously on the steering wheel.

Where is he?

The meeting is clearly over.

Another text pops up.

Challenge accepted. ;) I'll make sure to creep outside your

It’s unfinished. Paranoia’s engines blast off. I glance at the center console. In the cup holder sits the card Detective Montague pressed into my hand during our handshake goodbye.

You gonna finish that sentence?

It shows read. No typing bubbles appear.

My heart rate veers toward cardiac arrest.

The contact photo assigned to my boyfriend fills the screen. He’s fine. See? Maybe he forgot something—

My stomach shoots into my throat as soon as I answer.

The voice on the line isn’t Win’s. It’s not even male.

“... angel dust. You know why?”

Jessica .

Instinct screams at me to storm the church, but I have no idea what is going on in there. Be smart, Rem . Snatching the detective’s card and muting myself, I add a call. My hands shake so hard I almost drop the phone as I simultaneously forward the location pin Win sent earlier with a short message.

Win is in trouble - Remy.

“Detective Montague.”

“... Crazy what a little cocaine, some ecstasy, ketamine, and a bit of Viagra can do. But if you’re unlucky, it might be cut with fentanyl," she continues.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Everything out of her venomous mouth becomes a foreign language like my brain refuses to process the things she’s spewing. But when Win speaks, it’s even worse. His words are slurred and his voice is almost unrecognizable— manic.

The cramping in my chest escalates.

Finally I get a text.

This is Detective Montague. I’m recording the call. Officers dispatched.

Adrenaline floods my bloodstream. Rage cancels out the dread.

I’m going in.

No. Wait for officers to arrive.

Yeah, fuck that.

Flying out of the driver’s seat, I all-out sprint through the doors. She mentioned a bathroom. Vomit rises in my throat. The phone in my hand vibrates repeatedly with incoming messages. I ignore them. Two corridors branch off the small entrance. One leading to the nave, the other…

Has a restroom sign.

Tension strings me taut as I creep past a worn wooden cross, a beat-up water fountain, and a collage of nativity scenes all while fighting the worst-case scenarios my brain creates. I have to catch this bitch by surprise or I might endanger Win more.

Light seeps from the crack under the men’s room door.

A shadow passes again and again, a muttered rant muffled by the thick wood. My hand flattens on the scratched gold push plate.

One…

Two…

I throw my entire weight into it.

A shriek.

A thud.

My vision blurs at the sight of the figure splayed on his stomach across the dingy bathroom tile, Bloodshot grey eyes squint up at me, lips parting on a sigh— like he’s trying to speak.

Hang on, love.

Movement in my peripherals. To the right. I spin on my heel and launch—

Colliding with Jessica.

We crash into the side of the stall, the bang blending with her howl. At some point in the chaos, my hand latches around her slender throat, pinning her in place, while she wriggles like a shark caught on a line.

Fire scorches my cheek. Did she seriously just fucking claw me?

Growling, I hold her deranged glare.

“Light’s out, bitch.”

Her brows pinch in confusion, eyes wide. She thrashes against me but it’s too late, I’m already rearing back, my forehead coming down on hers with an audible thunk .

A bright flash of white.

Blinking and blinking to orient myself, I stumble back.

She slumps to the floor.

I turn.

White foam dribbles from Win’s lips.

Sharp pain explodes in my knees as I crumble to the tile, grasping his face.

“No, no, no,” I whimper, the ache in my head forgotten. His limbs stiffen. Rolling him onto his side, I fumble for the phone beside his outstretched. “Stay with me, love. Stay with me.”

His eyes roll back.

“ Fuck .”

Breathe. Focus .

“Get an ambulance. He’s seizing,” I choke into the speaker, wiping the spit from Win's mouth.

“It’s ok, baby, I’m right here. Help is coming. You’re gonna be ok,” I whisper. Tears drench my cheeks, I lean forward and press a kiss to his sweaty forehead. “You promised me forever, remember? You’re not breaking that promise, ok? I just got you back.”

Suddenly, the door bursts in—

Officers descend on Jessica while paramedics descend on us.

Immediately, they administer Narcan.

Scooting out of the way, I hook my pinky around Win’s and hold my breath. Please baby. Please don’t leave me again.

Win wheezes. Coughs. Breathes.

Finally, a sob breaks free.

He kept his promise.