Pulse

Chapter 23

Dahlia

“You can still walk away from this,” I say, working to loosen the pillowcase as discreetly as I can. “You haven’t done anything wrong that can’t be forgiven.” Lies. “I’ll say I went with you, and we had things to work out.” More lies. “This is just between you and me.”

If I can get him to think he’s not going to prison, he might reconsider this. Maybe. I have to give it a shot.

He laughs like a madman. Or not. “I’ve already killed the pizza delivery boy. He’s a little involved, too.”

My stomach hits the floor, my hands shaking. No, Dahlia. Focus. Don’t be a victim.

I gather myself. “Well, that’s one death,” I say as casually as possible. “And maybe you’ll kill me. But I promise you, Freddy, Troy will find you. And when he does, you’ll wish you hadn’t done this. Think about that.”

Tears lick my eyes because I know I’m right. Troy will not sleep until he finds him. Until he finds me.

I’ve thought about his words earlier … “I just want to protect you and make you happy. And I worry I can’t do that. I worry I can’t do that. I worry I can’t keep you safe, and you’ll see that I’m a fraud.”

Those words were the most vulnerable thing I’ve ever heard from him. They say everything.

They say he loves me.

My shoulders shake as I struggle not to cry. If something happens to me, if I don’t figure a way out, it will devastate him.

I can’t be the thing that ruins him.

“Don’t say that,” Freddy says.

“I’m trying to help you.”

“I said shut the fuck up.”

I free the edge of the fabric and gulp blood-scented air. My stomach clenches. I might puke.

“What do you want?” I ask. Keep him talking. I heard Ford say that once. Keep them talking to humanize yourself. “Why are you doing this? You obviously want something, so let me help you get it.”

“See, that’s the thing, baby. You are helping me get it.”

“How?”

He swerves again, smashing me against the door. I wince as pain rockets through my head.

I consider finding the handle and jumping out. I could probably pull that off. But if I do, where am I? Will I get run over or fall into a swamp? Will I break every bone in my body?

Stay calm. Wait for Troy.

“Remember when you took me to your daddy’s house for dinner, and we met your stepmommy?” he asks.

Alexis. “Yes.”

“Turns out your stepmommy has a sweet little cunt on her. She’s insatiable. Unlike you. Frigid bitch. You got that from your dad, it seems. Neither of you want to fuck enough.”

Focus, Dahlia. “Interesting observation.”

“But then she found out she’s gonna be a widow sooner than later, and she didn’t want to risk losing that. Sorry about that, by the way. Even your daddy doesn’t want you until he knows he has an exit strategy.”

What?

“You know about the cancer, right? Stage three. Bone.” He groans, hitting the gas. “Guess he started fearing the afterlife and figured he better make good with you in case God is real.”

He’s lying. He must be. I would’ve known that.

“Yeah, I knew about that,” I lie. “Thanks for your sympathy.”

“The fucker really messed up my plans. Now Alexis thinks there’s nothing I can do for her. What does she need little ole me for?” He pats my thigh, the contact making me shiver. “You. You’re what I can do for her.”

I close my eyes and grip the door. “Why me?”

“If I get rid of you, she gets the whole inheritance. Which, rightfully, she deserves. She’s been fucking him for that money for longer than he’s known you. You’re a grave robber really.”

What the hell is happening here?

“But what good is all that money to you if you’re dead?” I ask. “Surely, you’ve thought about that.”

His laugh cuts through me. It’s wild. Maniacal. Unholy.

“I hate to break it to you, baby, but I’m looking in the rearview right now, and your boy isn’t coming for—shit!”

Troy

The front of my car crashes into the pizza delivery car, spinning it like a top. Glass breaks, spilling onto the road. Tires squeal. The smell of rubber and exhaust fills the air as the car with Dahlia goes careening into a marsh.

I jump out of my car and around the front. The engine smokes, and fluids sizzle against the hot metal. I run to the other car, submerged in just a few feet of water, and immediately search for Dahlia.

My heart breaks as she pulls a pillowcase off her head.

She’s dazed. Bleeding. And sitting next to a madman.

A madman who’s about to die.

Freddy kicks his door frantically, but it’s jammed. I hop on the car’s hood and slide over it, kicking Freddy in the face as he exits.

He falls to the side, splashing into the water, a piece of metal catching the light in his hand.

“He has a gun!” Dahlia screams from inside the car.

It’s a relief to hear her voice, but I can’t even look at her.

Neutralize the threat.

And this motherfucker’s going to pay.

I draw my gun as Freddy gets to his feet. He dives toward the car as Dahlia exits, then grabs her by the front of her hair—yanking a handful so hard her face bounces off the door. She screams as he stands her up just as I’m coming around the door.

He stops me in my tracks … by shoving the gun into the side of her skull.

Dahlia’s eyes are wild—wide and full of fear. Tears flow down her cheeks, mixing with what’s unmistakably blood.

Fuck. She whimpers, pulling away from the gun.

Don’t blink. Stay calm, Castelli.

“Let me walk out of here, or I’m killing the bitch,” Freddy says, yanking her arm.

Dahlia cries, and her body shakes. But she’s alert and aware.

She hasn’t given up. That’s it, Doll. Stay with me.

I assess the situation quickly. If he’s going to kill her, he’s going to kill her either way. So I take a steadying breath and try to play chess with a child.

“I will kill this bitch!” he yells again, the gun trembling in his hand.

“Well, that’ll be two dead bitches today. The choice is yours.”

“I’ll shoot her in the face. Do you want to see that? Do you want to see her blood in the water and know you didn’t save her?”

My chest tightens.

“Mom! Hold on! Trav is calling an ambulance!”

Everything’s red. The floor. Her shirt. My hands.

She looks up at me and tries to smile.

“Can’t …” she whispers, the words gurgling in her throat.

“Mom!” I yell, ripping my shirt off and trying to stop the blood from pouring out of her skull. “Mom, hang in there. Please.”

“Can’t save me, Troy. You can’t …”

Her eyes flutter closed. Her lifeless body peaceful in my lap as I scream.

My jaw flexes. No. Stay. Fucking. Focused. “Do you want to know what I think?”

“What’s that?” he asks.

“I think you’re going to kill her anyway. If I let you walk out of here, she’s dead. And if I don’t … she’s dead.”

Dahlia cries out, but I ignore it. I have to. I have to get that gun out of his hand.

“So I have a choice to make,” I say, buying time. “Do I let you kill her here or somewhere else? That’s a pretty easy choice.”

He jerks her closer to him. The sight of him touching her makes me sick.

“I’m going to do you a favor,” I say, moving slowly toward them. “I’m going to let you see what it feels like to settle something like a man. You’ve probably never done that before, have you?”

He backs away, confused. His grip on the gun loosens as he tries to wrap his head around what I’m doing.

“It’s better this way,” I say, keeping his attention on me. “If you kill her somewhere else, I’m going to have to expend a lot of energy to find you. That’s just extra locations and more time. Let’s keep it simple.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” he asks.

I lift my gun in front of me, barrel to the water, and drop it unceremoniously. Dahlia cries out again.

Trust me, Doll.

“Let’s settle this here,” I say, edging closer. “Man to man. Hell, you can even keep your gun. That’ll even out the odds a little. You’re obviously feeling yourself today. Your chances are probably as good as they’re gonna get.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asks, the gun wobbling.

I leap forward and knock the gun out of his hand. Dahlia screams, her voice piercing the marsh, and Freddy reaches for the gun.

I grab his head by the hair and dunk it underwater. He flails—arms going wild, clawing at me—scrambling to reach any part of me he can.

Fury takes over as I yank him back up. He takes a gulp of air.

“Get a big breath. Don’t pass out yet.” I smack the side of his face. “Stick with me, big boy.”

He gasps just before I sling him underwater once again.

“Oh my God,” Dahlia cries, huddled by the car.

I knee him in the face once, twice, three times. With every hit, he gets weaker.

“Come on, Freddy,” I say, seething. “Back up you go.”

He sputters, sucking air and trying to scramble away.

My fist cracks his jaw. I can feel the bones crumble as I rip the punch through his face.

He gasps, his mouth hanging open, as he takes a punch on the other side of his jaw.

“Fuck you,” I say, hauling him to dry land by the front of his shirt. “You’re nothing but a piece of fucking shit.”

I deposit him on the ground in a lump.

“You were killing bitches today, remember?” I kick him in the ribs. “Where’d that badass go?”

He moans, lying in a lump on the sandy ground.

I straddle him, gripping him again by his tattered shirt. My face is inches from his. “You won’t ever fuck with her again, will you? Will you?”

He’s unable to move his mouth.

I palm his forehead and move his head up and down.

“There you go,” I say, tossing him away like the garbage that he is. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

“Castelli!” Grey runs down the hill. “You okay?”

I spit the taste of the marsh out of my mouth. “I’m fine.” I look over my shoulder. “Need to check my girl. Make sure he stays put.”

Grey looks down and sighs. “The only way he’s going anywhere is on a stretcher or with a pair of wings, my friend.”

Sirens wail in the distance as I race back to the car.

Dahlia runs to me, leaping into my arms. Her head buries in the crook of my neck as she sobs.

“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to inspect her. She won’t let go enough for me to see. “Hey, are you okay? Where’s this blood coming from?”

She pulls back. Her eyes are fucking swollen and black. Tears mix with blood on her cheeks.

The taste of vomit coats my tongue. I hold her precious face in my hands and inspect the gash at her temple and the swelling and blood on the other side of her head.

“I think my arm is broken,” she says, her right arm dangling at her side.

“My God. Doll. I’m so sorry.”

The sirens grow louder as I hold her close to me, careful not to touch her injuries. I close my eyes, saying a prayer.

“You saved me, Troy,” she whispers in my ear. “I knew you would.”

I press a kiss on her head as the medics arrive. “I’d do anything for you.”

“I know.”

Her words settle into my psyche—her confidence in me. Her faith. Her love.

I may not be enough for Dahlia—she deserves the world—but no one will love her as much as me.

And that just might be enough.