24. Zane
Zane
The pencil in my hand snaps in half, its splinters digging into my palm. I barely register the pain, too absorbed with the way my heart fucking shatters.
Mercy likes Kane.
She admitted it out loud. I heard her clear as day, the cameras I placed in her family’s cemetery doing their job perfectly. I’d been idly watching the scene between her and Sam unfold, not entirely sure where it was going, but sure as hell not expecting that truth bomb.
From the way Sam’s absolutely gutted, I doubt he was expecting it either.
I can’t say that I blame Mercy for how she feels.
If anyone gets it, it’s me. The man who fell in love with a sinner.
Ever since Kane admitted to sharing my feelings, we’ve been shacked up in our apartment, pretending that we don’t have lives outside of these four walls.
It’s been nice for a change. Keeping track of Mercy has been easy because she hasn’t left her room, and it’s given me some breathing room to pity the girl instead of hating her guts for a situation that’s out of her control. It’s been… peaceful.
And in an instant, that peace fucking shatters.
I drag in a lungful of air. Once. Twice. Three times. But I can feel the panic rising like the tide, building and building until it carries you away, never to be seen again.
That’s what I feel like—untethered. Drowning. Hurt.
Because when Kane finds out that Mercy not only likes him, but she wants to sleep with him, he’s going to explode. For him, it’ll be a blissful revelation that puts him on cloud nine. He’s always been a sucker for watching people fall in love with him, and here we are: watching Mercy do just that.
Fall for the man who’s going to kill her.
Unless.
I get to her first.
Deleting the video feed makes me nervous, but so does everything else about this situation.
I can’t let Kane know that she’s falling for him—he’ll grin like a lovesick idiot and demand to go to the party tonight.
I’ve already refused twice on account of how many people will try to sleep with him.
It doesn’t matter that he insists that he’s not interested, claiming that he wouldn’t do that to me now that we’re together, it’s the principle behind the thing.
I don’t want him going to frat parties like he used to.
Call me clingy or obsessed or damaged. I don’t care. The only person I might make an exception for is Mercy, but even that feels like I’m ripping my goddamn heart out. On that, I’m sure that Sam can relate.
We don’t want Kane and Mercy to happen, but it feels like an inevitability, and fighting fate is fucking exhausting.
I would know; I spent years trying to convince myself not to fall for Kane, and look how that turned out.
Miserable.
Until, suddenly, it wasn’t.
Frowning at my computer monitor, I amuse myself with the idea that this, too, will end okay.
Mercy and Kane can have sex, fine, but then he’ll grow bored of her and move on.
I’ll get to kill her—or he will, doesn’t matter, I guess—then we can kill Sam as a bonus, and Kane can graduate and we’ll move out of the city for good.
Unless.
Fuck, that’s going to be my least favorite word.
That’s all peaches and rainbows and shit— unless Kane falls for her.
Then I’m royally fucking screwed. Because getting rid of Mercy is contingent upon Kane going along with it.
For now, he says that’s still the plan. He’s painting in his studio right now, actually, trying to picture her final moments.
He’s excited for it. But he’ll be just as excited to sleep with her, and eventually, maybe, to fall in love with her, too.
Kane’s always been that way. Invested. It’s one of the things I love about him.
But it’s also what gets us in trouble.
Tossing the pencil shards in the trash, I throw my sketchbook onto my bed and spin around in my chair, leaping up to lock my door. I need to think. I need to plan. Let Mercy and Sam have their fun with each other—I don’t give a fuck about that. It’s what comes after that sets me on edge.
Because if she really does sleep with Kane, I’ll have to intervene… and that might be what finally breaks Kane’s heart.