Chapter 10
“LUCKY” BY JACLYN DAVIES
How to kill someone painlessly?
My search engine was diabolical, I was delusional, and the FBI agent watching my computer totally thought I was an idiot.
I knew plenty of ways to get the job done. I’d grown up sitting in the hay bales up on the loft, watching Dominik and the boys torture men in the horse stalls. I’d attended lessons in alleyways and watched bodies get dumped into the river after gymnastics. I’d seen it all.
Strangulation usually started a signature first kill—or at least, that was what we were taught.
There were two ways one of us juniors without stars could handle a kill.
One way? Accepting the satisfaction from watching the life ooze out of their eyes.
Or, with the smarter and more controlled technique, choking enough to render a target unconscious and move the body to a safer location.
Then, you could be cleaner and take your time if you chose.
Take my time? Take my time? I didn’t want to take any time.
I sat in front of my computer begging the internet for a quick and painless way to kill Quinntessa Dawson, something that allowed me to keep my end of the bargain so I might one day hold my child and not worry about her disappearing into thin air.
I could shoot her. Straight through the head and achieve the perfect headshot. A quick, instant death without any pain. Although, fucking Google says 5 percent of people who get shot in the head suffer in agony while unable to move instead of dying.
I didn’t want her to be trapped in a nightmare she didn’t deserve. I only wanted her to see stars and sleep.
Drugs.
I could get them easily. It would stop her heart, and Pretty Little Lover would slip into a fast and painless dream with the right dosage of Nembutal, much like euthanasia.
There was the train.
I could get her on my bike, go for a ride, and ditch her on the tracks. Another train accident. Nothing abnormal there.
“Ugh.” I shoved my laptop away and rolled onto my back, rubbing my face.
I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t kill her the same way they slaughtered poor Leo.
It was hard enough lying about him committing suicide.
Watson Morley knew his boy wouldn’t dare leave in such a dramatic manner, yet over time, all these webs of twists and turns had turned him into a devoted man who prioritized his stepson more than himself.
The papers broadcasted his suicide not even a full day after Mr. Morley had to face the brutal scene to identify his son. His body had been crushed in his car, or at least that’s what Christian said during the few days he was numb to everything.
I wasn’t a dumbass like these boys thought. D’arcy gave the Ghouls the scoop on the insider information the Chronicles had. Leo’s car was dragged down the tracks like a piece of paper stuck on a windshield, ground up and spat out to the side like he was nothing.
His car sat in Mr. Morley’s shop. Last I knew, it had been there all these years.
He risked losing money not keeping a station open for customers.
I remembered it angered Christian to see it every day, but I found it quite heroic of Watson to risk my father’s wrath by towing the car off the scene himself to keep the scrap yard from holding it like a trophy.
Too many deaths around here were overlooked and forgotten.
No wonder they brought in another FBI agent to try to get to the bottom of things. The police here were useless or worked for my father.
Fear washed through me, and suddenly, I was terrified all over again. There were too many cops between Coven and Murdafest who turned a blind eye or helped my father’s boys get away with everything. Too much power in little places.
If I messed this up, he’d drag me back to prison, where I couldn’t see Estelle unless it was at a sticky steel table, unable to make any physical contact with her.
Rattling the negative thoughts around, I lulled my head to my right and scoffed when I caught the eye of my scary beast.
His big brown eyes watched me closely, a stuffed, limp ferret toy hanging from his teeth.
“What do you want?” I hissed.
His tiny stick of a tail wiggled, but he didn’t dare move. I’d worked too much on breaking his bad habits from living with his siblings.
After a minute of intense staring, I rolled my eyes and slapped the mattress with a loud huff.
“You’re judgmental, and it’s not cute,” I muttered.
The mattress dipped slightly as he jumped up onto my bed and made himself comfortable. His butt violently swayed from side to side, the chewed head of his ferret swaying back and forth in all its soaked glory.
Lukas didn’t make the cut for the last litter of Dobermans passed around. Dad had originally picked him for his beautiful blue-gray coat, but something must have gone wrong with his training while I was in prison. The day I got out, he dumped this eight-month-old goober in my lap.
Apparently, his inability to hold a bite rendered him unusable.
Lukas crawled up the side of the bed close to me. He nuzzled my side as I stared at the ceiling and dropped his toy on my shoulder with a wet slosh.
“Fucking—” I reached over and grabbed the toy, tossing it as hard as I could out the door.
Although Lukas scrambled after his ferret, I didn’t hold my breath waiting to see if he’d return. He’d always come back. Even when I dropped him off at the barn, not wanting a damn thing to do with him, he showed up at Erica’s house three days later with the ball I threw in his mouth.
His wet nose nudged my cheek. I ignored him and stared up at the ceiling. He nudged me again, then gave a light toss so his ferret would land perfectly on my face with a wet, slobbery slosh.
“Ew, you fucker!” I yelped, smacking the wet toy off my face.
It landed on the other side of me. I quickly tried to throw it another direction, but I was too late. Lukas soared up and landed on my stomach, grabbing his toy with a loud, obnoxious bark.
“Get aw—” I pushed his bulky chest as he tried to shove his toy in my face. “Get away from me!”
I wheezed as he flopped on my stomach, partly on my ribs. He was so fucking annoying. I never even wanted a dog. I liked them, but not when they acted like they needed to be in my skin all the time.
Lukas laid his head on my chest and stared at me with his best puppy dog eyes, limp white and gray ferret in his mouth. As I glared at him, his tail—that weird numb—wiggled until his hips joined in on his happy dance.