55. Chapter 55
The news is on because I need noise, not because I’m actually watching it.
I’m painting; half-finished strokes layered over older ones, colors bleeding together without intention. The TV murmurs behind me, the cadence of the anchor’s voice smoothing the edges of a world that insists on continuing no matter what it destroys.
I rinse my brush, shake the excess water into the sink, and that’s when I hear it.
A name.
Not my own of course, but close enough to me that my spine goes rigid.
“… Evan Bray was identified earlier this week…”
I turn slowly on my stool, heart already pounding before my brain catches up.
Holy fucking shit.
The screen shows a photo of Evan, smiling to the camera unawares of the absolute stop sign he would meet in this life.
The room yanks sideways and I grab the counter to steady myself, fingers biting into laminate as the anchor keeps talking. Words that stack on top of each other in neat, professional pile that doesn’t begin to touch the weight of what I’m seeing.
No suspects at this time.
Authorities believe foul play was involved.
Last seen leaving his place of employment.
My ears ring as I sink down onto the end of the bed, my legs having simply stopped functioning.
The paintbrush slips from my hand to hit the floor, rolling until it leaves a streak of dark color across the rug.
I don’t move to clean it up, because Evan’s face stares back at me frozen on the screen with a smile that doesn’t belong to him anymore.
It was only a week ago.
A single fucking drink and a door closed behind him.
“Asshole,” I hiss, though my mind is already arranging the truth into something solid.
I know who killed him the way you know when a storm is coming because the air changes before the clouds roll in. All the signs are there, you just have to look it in the eye and accept it for what it is.
Alex.
Always fucking Alex.
My chest tightens angrily, breath coming shallow as the implications unfurl one by one. I can almost bet this wasn’t accidental rage. It wasn’t some messy loss of control. He’d made a choice to hunt Evan down and it was deliberate.
All because of one drink and one kiss. A kiss I might add he had no way of confirming for certain because he hadn’t actually asked me.
I yank the remote up, shutting off the TV before I can completely lose my fucking mind. My gaze drifts to the bat leaning beside my door and narrows on it. It’s been there longer than most people in my life. Shoving to my feet, I storm over to the little slice of wood and yank it up into my hand.
Imogen’s face flashes through my mind; her fear and anger, the way her voice shook when she told me she thought I was dead. If she finds out the truth of this… if she connects the dots I’m staring at right now—
My jaw clinches so hard I think my teeth might crack.
This ends.
Not tomorrow.
Not after I think it through.
Now.
I grab my jacket, shove my feet into my boots, and step outside into the night air. I don’t know where Alex is exactly, but I know where he will be. I’m guessing somewhere quiet and completely under control. Somewhere he thinks he has the upper hand.
I sling the bat up onto my shoulder, heart hammering now not with fear but purpose. I’m not running this time. I’m done letting other people decide what happens because of me.
If Alex thinks he gets to protect me by turning the world around me into a graveyard, he’s up for a rude awakening.