Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
KAT
Reggie’s fur is so soft between my fingers as I pet him mindlessly. Between Liam’s muscled arm wrapping around my waist and Reggie’s warmth curled into my tummy, I should have fallen asleep long ago.
Alas, sleep doesn’t come easy when you’ve just taken another life.
I need the list to end. And there’s no way back. The men deserve to die, but every single body takes a chunk from my soul that I don’t think I’ll ever get back.
So I lay here in my bed, safe physically, but with my mind tormenting me over and over. The metallic stench of blood clings to my nostrils. Alan’s death noises ricochet around my skull.
You can call Liam’s dad’s death an accident, and Sam’s self-defence. But the others? Murder.
I’m a murderer. Like those people you read about on crime blogs or see interviewed from a cell.
Revenge was supposed to give us a future. Knowing we’d sought retribution for Liam’s past, instead it’s putting wedges between me and everyone I love.
My eyes grow heavy, and I let them close, hoping for a different result. Liam’s behind them, his face contorted in feral rage, and I jolt back into the room.
Reggie stretches beside me and gives me a look that screams Will you lie at peace, woman?
I ease my phone off the bedside table, swiping the brightness down in an effort not to wake Liam.
Ellie’s name fills my screen. Six texts, back to back.
Freddie asked me on a date!
Like a real one.
Are you awake?
Hellooooo?
Do you think people will judge me? Because of Sam? I feel like a bit of a dick, but I also need some. IYKWIM?
Ignore that. Who cares what people think? Right? Anyway, should I wear my slutty black dress or go for demure? MESSAGE ME, WOMAN.
Fuck. That bloody reporter is still sniffing around my best friend. Can’t trust one as far as you can throw them.
It’s not outwith the realm of reality that he actually likes Ellie. She’s one of the best people in the world. And I want her to be happy. But he’s interested in Sam. It’s too coincidental.
He wants a scoop, and I can only imagine he’s staying close to Ellie to try to see who’s around her.
Suspect scoping, so to speak. Which is a problem, because Liam and I are here like two great neon signs saying, KILLERS.
Thankfully, no one would have any reason to expect motive from us, unless they knew about Liam and Sam’s past. Could he find that out?
I sure as flipping hell hope not.
Ellie’s texts sit in my hand, and I should reply, but I don’t know what to say. It’ll look weird if I don’t.
‘Oh, Reggie,’ I whisper. ‘What a mess.’
ME: Have an awesome time! Wear the black; you’ll knock him dead.
Maybe dead’s not the best choice of word. I delete dead and switch it for sideways.
Right as I’m about to lock my phone, a news headline pops down in a notification.
brEAKING: One man confirmed deceased as fire tears through rural home.
My stomach becomes a churning pit.
I click before I can stop myself. Alan’s house, or what’s left of it, is right there on my screen. The roof no longer exists, having caved in, leaving the house a sea of black.
No matter how much Alan deserved it, seeing the destruction we wrought fills me with angst. There’s a housing crisis, and between us, we’ve destroyed two.
One could argue that we’ve also freed a few up by eradicating their fucked-up owners. They do say you have to make a mess before something is cleaned properly. Maybe this is the necessary damage.
Police are visible in the pictures. Bright yellow jackets among a sea of black. Looking for clues. Clues that lead to Liam and me.
Did we leave anything behind? Any hair would have burnt up, but what about blood? DNA?
The ashy remains suggest our fire was thorough, at least.
Will Alan have anything that links him to the others? Ashworth will know. We know. The others on the list will know. And I hope any fucker they ever tortured alongside is quaking in their bloody boots.
And then there’s the people who grew up terrified of these men. Will they see their faces on the news and remember them? Will any come forward and give the police the links they don’t know exist?
The screen darkens as I lock it and place it back on the bedside table. For a time, I lie there and listen to the soft breaths of the two men in my life.
I think of Ellie and the untruths and lies that are stretching our friendship thin.
It kills me to freeze her out, but what choice do I have?
Telling her would implicate her. Trusting her to keep a secret like ours would probably obliterate our friendship, even if she doesn’t hate us for what we’ve done.
Despite being warm in my bed next to the man I love, loneliness weighs heavily over me. Like I did when I was a kid, rattling around in my parents’ house.
I want Ellie back.
I want Liam back.