25. West
I committed murder. Another one. And it’s even messier than the last.
Much, much messier.
Panting, I look down at Elijah’s lifeless body, his limbs splayed at unnatural angles like a marionette discarded after a show. Just as weak as I anticipated—he blacked out several times from the pain before his body finally gave out.
Sweat, grime, and blood coat my face and body, crimson seeping through my suit. I was so furious I didn’t even bother to change clothes. The air is thick and heavy, the taste of a completed job lingering on my tongue, overpowering every other sense. Finding a place to do this in a town I barely know wasn’t easy. Back home, I have a designated spot—a basement stocked with everything I need. Here, I had to improvise.
But that’s not my problem anymore. What weighs on me is the memory burned into my mind, even after killing the bastard. Venetia—the venomous, cunning little snake—kissed him right in front of me before making him carry her off. She knew it wouldn’t take a genius for me to locate the security room, pull up the cameras, and watch.
She fucking knew it.
After she kissed me with such passion that my head spun like a roulette wheel, something shifted inside me. It felt as if my mind and body shut down together, leaving me powerless to do anything but watch everything unfold.
I acted like a dick, I know. But all I wanted was to provoke her. I thought that if I told that idiot she could please both of us, she’d get mad, flip me off, and then we’d go back to the hotel to rest. I’d never actually share her with anyone. I was drunk and coked up when I suggested it, but even then, I knew I wouldn’t let myself lose control and push her into something she didn’t want.
I never expected her to put on a whole show because of it.
Tilting my head, I take in the mess I’ve made of Elijah. His mouth hangs open, his tongue severed—that was the first thing to go. The way he shoved it down her throat while we were still on that couch made my skin crawl.
Every finger is severed—much like how they glided over her hips and waist, how he pawed at her as if she were his possession. His teeth are completely knocked out—a reminder of how he bit into her skin, marking places he had no right to touch. And those now-empty eyes… The way he leered at her when we first walked into that club remains one of my clearest memories.
Looks like I’ve done everything I needed to do, yet this time, the bitter feeling lingers.
She betrayed my fucking trust.
I know it’s my fault for trusting her. I wasn’t supposed to—after all, what are we to each other? Friends? No way. Lovers? Definitely not. Future husband and wife? According to the rings and papers, sure. But in reality, we don’t owe each other anything. That was the deal. We’re just two people forced to be together, pretending we like it.
But after tonight, I doubt I believe in that anymore. I don’t know what’s happening or how to stop this, but one thing is clear—I won’t let her do something like this again.
This situation has made me realize I don’t want anyone near her. I don’t want them touching her, looking at her, or taking her away from me. She’s a wild serpent, adept at adapting to her surroundings, and that’s what she’ll have to do from now on. I don’t care how delusional or psychotic I seem. I don’t care how bad I am for her or how toxic we will be.
I only care about the fact that whatever she makes me feel, I don’t want it to end. Like a true addict, I crave the rush that courses through my veins whenever she’s around—the most intoxicating and mind-fucking experience I’ve ever known. I want it to turn me into an even bigger mess than I already am, bending me to its sway.
My phone buzzes again, and I pull it out of my pocket, surprised to see ‘Grandma’ instead of Venetia. I guess she finally gave up trying to reach me after her thirty-seventh attempt.
“Hey, Grandma,” I say, keeping my voice light as I blankly stare at the mutilated corpse before me.
There’s a long pause on the other end. “Oh, God. West. Did you kill somebody?”
How does she always know? “Don’t worry. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”
She lets out a long, drawn-out sigh. “Sweet Jesus Christ. Is the body still there?”
“I’m about to take care of it.”
“I’ll call you later, then.” The sound of shuffling cards reaches my ears, and I realize she’s at it again, swindling those poor old folks out of their money. “Love you.”
My haze thickens, but a smile fights to break through. I nod, pretending she can see me. “Yeah. Love you too.” She hangs up, and I put my phone down, silently repeating the plan in my head.
I’m going to dispose of this mess, take a quick shower in his house, and then head back to the hotel to collect my well-deserved fucking apology from my little serpent.