Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
ANORA
I lay in bed with my eyes closed, listening to the sound of the water from the shower after Quentin quite literally fucked me into oblivion. He took ruin me seriously—I would never be satisfied by another man again.
I’d been with my fair share of men, and none of them had ever made me feel this way before. None of them had ever paid such special attention to my body and what I liked. What I craved. What I wanted without having to ask for it.
Quentin unlocked a rough side of me I had been dying to release but was too afraid to venture into that part of myself with anyone.
It made my mind wander back to when he was just a hot stranger in a coffee shop, watching me waste my time on a date that made me feel nothing.
My brow furrowed as my thoughts returned to the present and the sound of the shower. From what I remembered, Quentin and I had fallen asleep together. I remembered rolling over at one point during the night to check that he had been peacefully sleeping beside me.
There was no way it could be morning already. I rolled over to peer at the clock. It was only 2 AM. What was Quentin doing?
Something in my gut twisted, my earlier fears and mistrust of him running back to me for a reason I couldn’t begin to name. There was something not right about this situation. It was as if my body was warning me of something to come, but something also beckoned me toward the bathroom to get the answers it was seeking.
My brain felt fuzzy as I pulled the sheets back and approached the cracked bathroom door, a sliver of light shining through.
I slowly, carefully pushed the door open and took in Quentin in all of his naked, wet glory.
All of his naked, wet, bloody glory.
“What the fuck?” I yelled, causing Quentin to practically jump out of his skin, wheeling around to face me.
I began to shake with coursing panic, my heart beating so loud I could hear it in my ears.
“For fuck’s sake, woman, you’re going to give me a heart attack,” he mumbled, running a hand through his wet hair.
Blood marred his face. It rained from his chest, his arms, and down into the drain.
All reasonable thoughts left my brain as I opened the shower door and climbed in, fully clothed in one of Quentin’s T-shirts and a pair of sleep shorts. I frantically began to run my hands up and down his body.
“Baby, what are you doing?” Quentin said, worry etched in his features as he grabbed my wrists to stop my movements.
Tears pricked my eyes and worry bled into my veins. Why was he covered in blood? Was he hurt? Where did he go? Questions swarmed me, and I felt my breath begin to quicken, panic overwhelming me.
“Anora, look at me,” Quentin pleaded, placing his hands on either side of my face, forcing me to look at him. “It’s not my blood.”
What?
“What did you just say?” I asked, the panic beginning to morph into anger. It made me sick to my stomach to think about what he could possibly have done.
“The blood isn’t mine,” he repeated—sternly, so I would understand the full weight of his confession.
“Why do you have blood all over you?” I asked, trying to calm myself down, knowing there was a logical explanation for why the man I was sleeping with was currently in the shower covered in blood.
You’ve seen one too many horror movies. Don’t jump so fast to wild conclusions.
Maybe he’d been out driving and hit an animal and carried it to safety. Maybe he was helping an innocent bystander.
He said nothing, continuing to scrub the blood from his body, the pink-tinged water flowing noisily down the drain.
If it wasn’t something crazy, why wasn’t he telling me? The calm that was so new and fragile began to crumble, my earlier ominous thoughts coming back to me. There was too much blood on him for this to be an accident, especially if he wasn’t fessing up to what was going on.
“I’m going to ask you once. Who the fuck’s is it?” I snarled in his face, pissed at myself for worrying about him. Pissed that I even thought this six-foot-two man who towered over me and could crush my windpipe with his bare hand needed to be worried about.
“I don’t think you want to know,” he mumbled, letting go of my face and turning back toward the showerhead to rinse out his hair.
“You just put my emotions through the wringer, Quentin. I think I deserve an answer for whose blood is drenching your body.”
“No, little moon. You don’t,” Quentin snapped. “I’m exhausted and I’d like to finish my shower so I can get some sleep.”
“If you think I’m going to sleep in the same bed with you while you keep things from me, then you’re a fool.”
“ Anora .”
“No, Quentin. I didn’t just let my walls down for you just to make me feel like a fool the moment my head is turned. I want some answers about what’s going on, and whose blood is all over you.”
“I’ve kept this side of me hidden long enough, and I certainly didn’t have any plan to reveal it any time soon,” he yelled, the tether of his restraint finally snapping.
His words rushed over me, raking my heart across hot coals. What hidden part of himself did he mean? The blood, combined with the murderous look in his eyes, hinted at something sinister.
“Did you kill someone, Quentin?” I whispered, walking closer to him. I placed my hand against his back and rubbed it gently.
I yelped as he spun around and walked us back toward the shower wall. He boxed me in with his powerful arms before bowing his head.
Why won’t he look at me?
“I’m not ready for you to know about this yet, Anora,” he rasped, as if it pained him to speak. “I’m afraid you’ll run as far as you can if you find out who I truly am.”
Maybe he’s right. Maybe I should call the cops and run for the hills.
But maybe I also don’t care.
I held my chin up, trying to portray a confidence I didn’t feel. “Why don’t you let me decide when I’m afraid, Quin?”
He laughed, though it lacked his usual humor. “Quin, huh?”
“Don’t change the subject,” I teased, hoping to break some of the tension and make it easier for him to open up about whatever it was he felt the need to hide so deeply within himself.
“Do you promise that you won’t run?” Quentin asked, finally looking up at me. I saw the pain in his eyes. The fear that I would hear the darkest parts of his soul he planned to bear and then leave without a second glance.
“Why don’t we finish cleaning you up, and then we can talk about this?” I said with a smile, placing my hands on his face and grazing my thumb along his cheek. I don’t know why the hell I wasn’t freaking out more. There was a very real chance that the man standing before me had just taken a life.
Even if whatever he was going to reveal to me should scare me, he was the one man who’d come into my life and not left. If he was willing to stay for me and everything I was and wasn’t, then it was only fair to show him the same courtesy. I needed to give him a fair chance to explain himself before I flipped out on him.
My mind couldn’t help but flash back to all the times my father would treat me the same way, always jumping to the worst conclusions and never giving people the benefit of the doubt. I couldn’t help but think that if I hadn’t been such a pain in the ass, and had been more of a perfect child who didn’t cramp the wild and crazy lifestyle that he wanted to live, he would have stayed.
“Okay,” Quentin agreed gently, and I could see the fear fade from his eyes.
I wrapped my hands around his body and held him against me, knowing in this moment that I was so incredibly, deeply in love with this man. Whatever he planned to tell me, I didn’t think it would turn me away. I was too far gone—maybe even too far for my own good.
We held each other like that for a moment before I gently pushed him back toward the showerhead. I peeled the wet clothes off of my body and threw them to the floor.
Grabbing the body wash from the shelf, I squeezed some into my palm. I slid my soapy hands over his body, massaging his tense muscles and eliciting a groan.
“You’re an angel, little moon,” Quentin mumbled as he pressed his face into his arm, his hands braced against the shower wall.
“I don’t know about all that,” I laughed, pressing my body against his, making sure he felt my bare breasts against his back, my peaked nipples rubbing against his skin.
I knew if the roles were reversed, I’d want nothing more than to feel Quentin’s warm skin on mine. Something about the contact of our naked flesh together always seemed to soothe me.
We stayed like that for what felt like hours, until the water ran cold, and I forced myself to part from him and turn the faucet off, and then I walked out to grab Quentin a towel from the warmer.
“Thank you,” he mumbled as I led him to the bed and began to towel-dry his hair. When he wasn’t keeping with his unbreakable facade, I could see his exhaustion, the mental strain and the dark circles lining his eyes.
“Oh, Quentin…” I said sadly. I knew he’d hate the pitying look I gave him, but I couldn’t help it. It was clear there was something eating him alive, and I wanted to do everything in my power to fix it, no matter what it was.
I’d always been this way, and I didn’t think it would ever change. Whenever someone I loved or cared about was hurting, I wouldn’t stop until whatever pain they were feeling was better.
I had been hurt so much throughout my life, experienced so many disappointments and downfalls of my own, that I hated watching anyone else go through it.
“I don’t even know where to begin, Anora,” Quentin said, his tone hinting at impatience with himself.
“Start wherever you feel comfortable, Quin. I’m not going anywhere,” I replied and began running my fingers through his hair.
There was a push and pull inside of me, screaming at me to leave while I could, because once he told me this information, there was no going back. A worry began to simmer in my gut that maybe I had gotten myself in too deep, too fast, and that I wouldn’t survive whatever came next.
He stood up and rounded the bed, pulling his duvet back and climbing under the sheets. I did the same, cuddling up in his arms and placing my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His arms circled me so tightly it was like I was his lifeline, and he was afraid to let go.
And then he spoke.
“I grew up in a shitty household. My father was an alcoholic, and my mom wasn’t much better. My sister Leila and I ended up going to live with my grandma, who raised us. Life became better after that, but it didn’t last long.” He rubbed circles on my back absently, as if lost in another time and place. “Leila was a small, shy girl who got picked on a lot in school. Being the big brother I was, I was incredibly protective. I would have killed for her, even back then.” His voice cracked and I gently laid my hand on his chest, silently letting him know I was here for him, and he could continue whenever he was ready.
“Leila hit a rough patch and got in with the wrong crowd. She was lost, and I should have been there for her more. I didn’t want her to think I was being too overbearing, and I couldn’t step away from my own life as often as she needed me to. Maybe things would have changed. Maybe she’d still be here with me.”
I could hear the emotion in Quentin’s words bleed through, and his voice cracked again as he spoke. I didn’t rush him or push him to keep going. I just gave him as much time as he needed and waited for him to continue, gently working my fingers through the wet strands of his hair.
“One night, Leila didn’t come home, and I could feel it in my bones that something wasn’t right. Call it a sixth sense or whatever, but I had turned her location on her phone at one point and raced to her last ping. When I got there…” His last words were choked, and emotion began to clog my own throat at his vulnerability. I gave him a little squeeze of encouragement, wishing more than anything that I could make him feel at ease without words.
“I pulled up into the parking lot of an abandoned warehouse, and the worry in my gut turned to absolute dread. I had no idea what I was going to walk into, but I knew I had to do that for Leila. I had to be there for her like I always promised I would be.” Silent tears rolled down his cheeks as he took a shaky breath, and my heart snapped into a million pieces for him.
“The scene I walked into will forever be seared into my brain, and no matter how many different drugs I tried or alcohol I drank, it didn’t go away.”
“Quentin, you don’t have t?—”
“No, I need you to understand what happened, so you can understand what I’ve done,” he explained, cutting me off. “The warehouse was so quiet, but once my eyes landed on my sister’s lifeless body on the ground, it was filled with my screams instead. I ran over to her as quickly as I could and tried so desperately to find a pulse. Praying and hoping and begging for there to be life in her body. She was bloody and bruised and I was surprised I recognized her. I had no idea what the fuck happened to her, and I just sat there and held her lifeless, blood and bruised body and wept. I later learned that she had gone through a dark alley after work to take a shortcut home and was jumped not long after.”
Tears streamed down my face. I felt heartbroken for the Quentin from the past, as well as for the Quentin of my present, and hopefully my future.
“As I sat there, my sister’s body in my arms, I heard a noise behind me, and I whipped around so fast to see a guy about Leila’s age trying to sneak out of the door. I had never moved so fast in my entire life and I had him pinned against the wall before I could blink. It turns out he was my sister’s boyfriend at the time. He decided to follow her into the alley and scare her a little. But he decided he’d invite a couple of friends along to join him. Those friends had some darker ideas in mind for my sister. They passed her around like she was nothing and then beat her so badly she died.”
I sat there and continued to listen to him as he described in detail what he did to the man who killed his sister. It should have scared me, the violence he was capable of, but I think anyone would do so in honor of someone they loved. We all think we wouldn’t be capable of such despicable things until someone who stole everything from you is looking into your face, planning to walk away without a care.
Quentin took a breath and continued. “I vowed as I watched them lower her body into the ground that I would go after every single one of those fuckers who were in the warehouse that night. Anyone who laid a finger on her. I would track them down and make them regret the day they were born. Once they were all dead, I’d feel relief. Or so I thought. But I didn’t and started going after the other lowlifes of this city. The scumbags, the drug dealers, the wealthy who thought they could pay away their crimes. I began fighting for everyone who’d ever been taken advantage of. But I’m so fucking tired…”
He whispered the last bit, and I could feel the exhaustion seeping from his pores.
“So why don’t you stop? You can’t rid the world of all of the darkness, Quin,” I said, hoping he didn’t take offense to my question.
“Because I don’t know if I can. I feel like I’m letting Leila down if I put my knife and my mask away.”
His knife and his mask?
“Wait… What do you mean your knife and your mask?”
A smile lit up his face, so at odds with the conversation we were having. “Maybe you’ve heard of me and my habits of slashing the criminals of Portland’s underbelly.”
His words bounced around in my brain, and I waited to see if they would stick. They weren’t making any sense, until something finally decided to click.
“You’re the Portland Slasher?” I asked, raising my head to peer into his eyes. I had seen the name plastered all over the television for months, the police desperate to catch him.
I watched as fear and panic radiated from him, but I couldn’t sit still. I sat up and made my way out of the bed, nausea coiling in my stomach.
“What kind of sick game are you playing?” I whispered, my back turned to him, feeling like I could barely look at him.
“Anora, it’s not what you think,” he said, and I could feel him close behind me, almost close enough to touch me.
A breaking news headline flashed in my head.
Mark Waverly of Soreno Inc. found dead in an alley.
“Quentin, please, for the love of God, tell me you didn’t kill a man I went on a date with,” I gasped, turning around and pinning him with the coldest stare I could muster, my ears ringing and my heart beating fiercely.
His lack of response spoke volumes, which just made the feeling in my gut twist harder.
“What the fuck , Quentin!” I yelled, not believing this was happening. “You didn’t even know me when you saw me with Mark, so what made you think you could kill off a man who I went out on a date with?”
“I didn’t like the way he spoke to you,” Quentin mumbled, his head bowed, looking utterly defeated.
“ Quentin ,” I scoffed. “I don’t even know where to begin with you right now. Should we start with the killing of a man I went out on one date with? Or the fact that you kill evil men for sport?” My words quivered with disbelief, and I quickly pulled away from him, standing and brushing the angry tears from my face. I hated to admit that it didn’t bother me as much when he admitted to killing the scum of the city but hearing that he killed one of my closest friend’s family just because of the way he treated me made me want to hurl.
“I’d be damned if I let anything bad happen to you. Everything I ever told you, and everything I’ve told you now is the truth,” Quentin said, finally meeting my eyes.
“You can’t just kill someone because they were rude to me! Not to mention you weren’t honest with me from the beginning, Quentin. Our entire relationship is practically built on lies. How can I believe anything you say now?” I turned away from him, heading toward his dresser to tug on some dry clothes. I looked back at him and waited for him to give me some kind of answer.
He didn’t respond as he watched me walk away and start to pack my bag so I could get the hell out of here. I didn’t think I could be around him right now with all my raw feelings out on display.
I turned my back and slipped through the bedroom door, but Quentin’s pained voice stopped me dead in my tracks.
“You said you’d understand. You promised you wouldn’t run away.”
I didn’t know what he wanted me to say, or what I even could say. I felt so utterly conflicted inside my very soul over what I should do about him. But I knew right now, more than anything, I needed some room to breathe.
“I know I promised, but this is all too much for me right now. I need some time to process everything you just said,” I said, the words feeling like glass leaving my throat as I tried not to cry.
“Goodbye, Quentin,” I whispered, emotion stealing the last bit of energy I had left to say anything else.
* * *
Leave it to the universe to make my first day back at work the same day Quentin and I ended our relationship.
Leave it to the universe to also make my first day back to work the day after I had found out my boyfriend had been the one to kill my boss’s cousin. How was I supposed to look her in the eye and pretend that everything was normal? How was I supposed to sit with the fact that I could give her and her family closure at the risk of Quentin’s freedom?
Just because Mark was a douche on our date didn’t mean that he deserved to die, especially in such a brutal way.
Charlotte had originally said she only wanted to close the boutique for a week, but she ultimately decided to take the rest of the month off, leaving me to my own devices of Netflix, junk food, and Quentin.
I couldn’t exactly blame her, knowing everyone grieved differently and not even pretending to understand what she was feeling or going through, especially losing a family member in such a gruesome, tragic, unexpected way.
I debated calling off of work for just one more day, but I couldn’t avoid Charlotte forever, and she was still my friend. I needed to be there for her in her time of need. My life felt like a literal sense of being stuck between a rock and a hard place.
I didn’t know what to do, and I felt like every move that I could potentially make was going to be the wrong one or would hurt someone I cared about.
If it was possible to stay in bed for the rest of my life and avoid people entirely, I most definitely would.
But that wasn’t how life worked, and I was going to have to face this dilemma eventually, so it might as well be now. The sooner I got it over with, the sooner I could come home and pretend that it had never happened at all.
Even my outfit today felt out of the norm, and I hardly recognized the girl staring back at me in the mirror. My face and hair were both paler than normal; anyone who paid attention to me would notice that I didn’t look how I typically did. I could barely muster enough energy to put on my makeup, settling instead for a quick brush of mascara and trying to touch up the loose curls in my hair.
“As good as it’ll get,” I mumbled to the mirror, straightening my leather jacket before grabbing my keys and making my way out the front door.
Even the weather matched my gloomy mood, but I still opted to walk rather than take my car. Sometimes I wondered why I even had a car when everywhere I needed or wanted to go was within walking distance. It was nice to have the option, though, especially if Rory and I decided to go on a much-needed girls’ vacation that I planned to put into her head soon.
Something about the streets felt off to me as I started to walk to work, but I could easily chalk that up to everything that I now knew. Even the most normal-looking people could be cold-blooded killers, and that thought was a terrifying one.
It made me consider carrying some sort of weapon on me in the future to potentially help with my paranoia.
The walk was over sooner than I would have liked, and before I knew it, I was standing in front of the door of the boutique.
I could see Charlie smiling through the window, and seeing her back in her shop—which I knew was her safe and happy place—made my heart crack.
I never wanted anything bad to happen to the people that I cared for, and maybe if it had been anyone else it wouldn’t have affected me so badly, but something about it being Charlie made it hurt worse.
If it was someone related to Rory, it would be a million times worse, but Charlie was still a good friend of mine, and I could feel the pain of losing her cousin. Even if he was an ass when it came to women, he was still an ass she cared for.
“Boy, am I glad to see you,” Charlie said cheerfully as I came in the door, already smiling as big as I could to keep her warm attitude alive.
She wouldn’t be so happy to see you if she knew it was your fault her cousin was dead.
Bile rose in my throat at the voice in my head, because I knew it was right. Even though she was smiling, I could still see the devastation behind her eyes. Charlie cared so deeply for everyone, even those who may not have deserved it. Mark had been her family, and no matter what wrongs he may have made in his life, he was still a person, and her family.
“It’s so good to see you, Charlie,” I said, trying to keep my voice even and burying my head in the crook of her neck to avoid her seeing the emotion written on my face.
I took a deep breath and inhaled her perfume, letting it relax me for the long day ahead.
I never asked Quentin to murder someone, let alone a guy who had been a jerk to me all of one time. The world was full of assholes, and we couldn’t go around slaughtering all of them. I had dealt with my fair share of them, and the only thing you could do was not let their negativity burrow under your skin. I could see the bigger picture of the whole Batman vengeance thing he had going, but it still doesn’t excuse what he had done to a literal stranger.
Quentin had done something to the extreme, and now I was the one dealing with the fallout. I was the one comforting my mourning friend and having to worry about every man or woman who looked at me the wrong way.
He probably felt like he had helped, defended my honor or something of the sort, but instead he just made life ten times harder. And now with the revelation that he was the Portland Slasher, I felt close to overflowing with all of the secrets inside me.
I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep it all to myself.