Chapter 16 Noah
Noah
Hours have passed. Rachel is clearly more herself, and I allow myself to relax, sipping more wine while we finish our third bottle.
It’s almost peaceful enough that it reminds me of our usual nights, and for once in this whole week since we met the demons of chaos, better known as Kai and Leo, I can finally read.
That’s at least until a sound from the side of Rachel’s house breaks both our attention, and we rush to the window. Hiding behind the curtains, we check the driveway at the same time.
“Is that your boyfriend?” I ask.
“Yours too.” she announces with a smirk and grabs her landline phone.
“He is not my boyfriend.” I argue, but then I register what she is doing and wave a hand at the two men, hoping they see me from where they are standing.
They are too focused on their task, though, and by task I mean breaking into the house.
Kai is on Leo’s shoulders, and both idiots are trying to reach the vine that climbs the wall all the way to Rachel’s bedroom.
They are clearly drunk, and even though he is indeed not my boyfriend, more like my fake husband, I still find this drunk idiot fucking adorable.
“Hello, I would like to report a crime. Someone is trying to break into my house.” Rachel sniffles, pretending she is crying.
“Come fast, I am terrified they will get inside. Help me.” She tells them her address and ends the call before the dispatcher can ask anything else, as if the line had dropped, making sure that the police will come fast. Her distressed call is now their priority.
I panic inside because this house is still a crime scene, and the murderer is currently trying to commit another crime.
“Did you just report your boyfriend to the police?” I focus on Kai to avoid her catching up to the fact that I am worrying about Leo.
“Yours too.” She sinks into her armchair, and I force myself to take back the seat on the couch while blue and red lights flash through the curtains. Of course they would rush here now that this is not an emergency, but when you need them, they take their sweet time.
“Fuck. Rachel, this is wrong,” I say as I peek through the slight gap between the curtain and the window. It is just enough for me to watch my husband and his idiot friend being escorted into a police car. “You know we’ll have to go pick them up, right?”
“I know,” she says, completely unbothered.
“So why on earth did you report them?” I ask as I get comfortable in my seat; there’s no point in trying to argue with her.
“He ghosted me for a week, so I reported him to the cops.” She gets comfortable in her armchair, book in hand, as if she didn’t just report both of our men to the cops.
“Sounds fair,” I admit. She kind of has a point here.
“I know, right?” She opens her book with a giggle, proud of herself.
“How do you like the new book?” I try to change the subject, but my brain goes back to autopilot, and I ignore everything she is saying, answering her questions like a zombie.
I drink the remainder of my glass because my friend might have just caused me a prison sentence.
Yes, this is not related to Alex’s death.
But Leo seems drunk enough that if he panics, he can spit out everything to the cops, and it wouldn’t take them long to come back here and pick me up too.
They already know the fucking route to the snitch’s house.
“Don’t worry. We are going to pick them up in a few hours.” She confirms, and now I am certain that if we get away with murder, I am going to commit another, and she will be the victim.