Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
“We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
—The Cheshire Cat, Alice in Wonderland
Iaccepted the dangerous truth that I belong in the shadows years ago.
Accepting that I exist in a mental sphere where the light doesn’t dare to shine.
I deserve to be shrouded in darkness. It’s a fitting prison, a proper punishment for the sins I’ve committed.
For the lives I’ve taken. And yet, Alice is, and always has been, a flickering flame of salvation that pulls me back from the edge of the bleak trench right when I need her most.
Right before I fall.
Like I almost did tonight.
Virgil Adaway was a rapist. Some people might say I should have handed him over to the law.
I’m not one of those people. In fact, I’m glad he’s dead, and I’m proud that I’m the man who murdered him.
But it was easier to take a life when Alice was miles away.
Her absence kept hidden my actions that are best kept locked away in darkness.
My bones still vibrate with the need for violence and my body pulsates from the kill. Every nerve ending is on fire, demanding…more. Always more like a starving beast that’s never satisfied…
…unless I’m with Alice.
She quiets the demons screaming in my head. Soothes the monster scratching to break free.
With my jaw clenched and nostrils flared, I glare at the phone in my gloved hand. The fingers of my other hand are wrapped around the steering wheel. “Lonely Day” by System of a Down whispers from the speakers. It’s after midnight, and I need her.
I need her so fucking badly.
Making a snap decision, I call her.
The phone rings once…
Twice…
After the fourth ring, I’m about to hang up when she answers. Her sleep-graveled voice is husky, soft—better than my favorite song. “Maddox. What’s wrong?”
The urgency in her question has me shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “Nothing. I needed to hear your voice,” I tell her, my words muffled behind the balaclava.
Not wanted. Needed.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Malice.”
“You mean fucked up, insecure, neurotic, emotional sort of fine?”
I bark out a loud laugh. “No, I mean an actual ‘fine,’ as in, I’m good, baby, promise.”
“Your voice is muffled.” That sounds a lot like an accusation. “You’re wearing that mask, aren’t you? Maddox, are you in trouble?”
“No, I’m not in trouble,” I assure her as I lift the balaclava.
“Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”
“Alice, I’m good. I don’t need rescuing.”
She’s quiet for a beat, then, “Do you want to come here?”
Do I?
I think about it for a second before I answer. “No.”
Because going to Tiger Lily means I have to leave so her mother doesn’t find me there in the morning.
“Oh,” she says softly, clearly disappointed. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
But I need to see her.
“Pack an overnight bag. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“But you said—”
“You’re sleeping at Folly House.”
“Maddox…”
“This is non-negotiable.”
“Okay, but I’ll meet you there because I need my car—”
“No, you don’t,” I interrupt her. “We’ll go together.”
“Together, together?” she practically shouts.
“Problem?”
“No, of course not, but—”
“Twenty minutes. And Alice?”
“What?”
“Don’t keep me waiting. I’m tired.”
“Oh, my God…” she says, laughing as I hang up on her.
With that settled, and knowing Alice will spend the rest of the night in my arms, my heart rate is finally slowing.
The demon’s piercing wails are quieting as well, and when I rip off the gloves and turn up the radio, I drive away from this shithole and head toward Tiger Lily—leaving the worst of myself in the basement of that hovel with Adaway’s corpse.
Alice is waiting for me outside.
She’s adorable in those pink sweatpants and a T-shirt.
Apparently, she’s only a little Goth queen out in public. Behind the scenes, she’s still the same Alice she was three years ago. The one painted in brilliant color.
Tonight, I’m the one dressed head to toe in black.
The mask is still in my back pocket, and I’m tired, and I’m sure I stink like sweat.
Torture, when it’s done correctly, is one hell of a workout.
And yet here I am, grinning like an idiot as I roll up to the front door.
I get out and grab her bookbag and overnight bag and toss them in the trunk, and I’m going to help her in as well, but she’s quick and jumps in the passenger seat.
I slide behind the wheel, sleepy as I offer her my hand. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she says. “You okay?”
I nod. “Just needed you tonight.”
Her smile is radiant as she takes my hand and gives it a little squeeze. “I’m here.”
“I know.”
I shift the Dodge into drive, and the engine purrs as I speed off down the street.
Alice’s small, delicate hand rests in mine with K.Flay’s “Weirdo” playing on the radio.
I catch her quietly singing along, lost in her own sleepy world as she stares out the window.
Everything feels easy, natural. We’re right back where we were three years ago, when we could sit in the same space and have it be… comfortable.
Though the drive only spans three blocks, the anticipation of spending the night with her at Folly House makes each second stretch into an eternity. I pull into the circular driveway and don’t see March’s car, which means I’ve beaten him home.
Not surprising.
After a bloody night, he disappears into the ether, off to do whatever it takes to reclaim even a smidge of peace. I’ve never needed that balance, but it is nice to have Alice with me to tether me to my humanity. To remind me that even after what I did to Adaway, I’m still a man and not a monster.
I park in my usual spot near the garage and dash around to help Alice out of the car. Then I grab her bags from the trunk and lead her inside the house. “Hungry?”
She scrunches up her face and shakes her head. “Nope, thank you, though.”
“Come on.” I trudge up the stairs, exhausted and grimy.
Alice looks so tiny and lost in my room because mine is heavy and dark, unlike her dainty pink bedroom.
Thick brown curtains hide the view of the backyard’s pool, which we rarely use.
I flip on the lamp on the table beside the king-sized bed, then dump her bags near the closet.
“If I don’t shower, I’m going to vomit from my own stink. ”
Again, she crinkles her nose. “You are a bit ripe.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m terribly sorry for offending your fine sensibilities, milady.”
Alice dives onto my bed, grabs a pillow, and tosses it at me. But I catch it and throw it back at her, hitting her square in the face. Her laughter fills the space between us, pulling a smile from me as I sift through my drawer for a pair of sweats.
“Mind if I get in bed?”
“Baby, this is your room. Your house. You can do whatever you want here. Just stay out of March’s bedroom. He’s weird about his privacy.”
She rolls down the blanket and climbs onto the massive mattress. “I’ll try to stay awake.”
“I’ll try to be quick.”
I let the hot stream of water wash away the pain we inflicted upon Virgil, letting his screams and pleas flow down the drain.
With deliberate intention, I scrub my skin twice, determined to cleanse my body of that brutal side of myself, fearful that it might somehow stain Alice.
Once I’m satisfied I’ve cleaned away the violence, I step out of the shower and towel off.
I pull on soft, gray sweatpants that hang loosely off my hips and pad back into the bedroom, mindful that Alice might have fallen asleep.
She hasn’t—and goddamn, she looks spectacular in my bed.
My cock’s already straining, and I have to give it a slight adjustment and a little squeeze in a tragically failed attempt to ease some of the pressure, anticipating the warmth of Alice’s body wrapped around me. Because tonight, she’s mine. All mine, all night.
She opens her arms to me. “Missed you.”
“I tried to be quick.” Settling in beside her, I let her wrap me up in her embrace, not realizing how desperately I needed this until now.
Smoothing a hand over my damp hair, she asks, “Do I want to know where you were?”
“Probably not,” I murmur.
After an audible exhale, she says, “I’d like to know anyway.”
“Why?”
She runs her fingers down my cheek, reminding me what it was like to be…petted. To feel loved by her. “Because there are no secrets between us, right?”
Not anymore.
Still, the words are tough to push out when I confess, “I murdered a rapist tonight.”
Her hand stills, and she tenses. “Oh,” she breathes. Then, after a long, pregnant pause, she says, “Anyone I know?”
“Thank God, no.”
“Do we know who he…raped?” Alice’s question is brittle, the last word rasped out like a curse.
“Sparrow Zanders.”
“No!” she exclaims with a horrified gasp. “Jesus, that poor girl. She’s such a sweetheart. Why? Why did he do it?”
Shrugging, I say with a sneer, “Because he’s a disgusting piece of shit, that’s why. Sparrow’ll rest easy knowing the man who hurt her is dead.”
“No, Maddox, you’re wrong,” Alice whispers sadly. “She’ll never rest easy, not ever again.”
Because that motherfucker violated her. I could kill Virgil Adaway a million times over—serve him up to Sparrow in a hundred bloody pieces—but that won’t—can’t—erase what he did to her.
It won’t take away the memory that will haunt her for the rest of her life, and for that, I wish I could kill that motherfucker over and over and over—
“Are you okay?”
Alice’s whispered question rips me out of my mind and brings me back to her. “I am now, Malice.” I slide us down, haul her even closer against me, and tuck her into the crook of my arm. “I am now,” I repeat, kissing the top of her head.
She drapes an arm across my chest and traces little circles over my abdomen. “Tired?”
“Very.”
“Same.”
Her loud yawn proves it, and when her body relaxes and her breathing falls slow and steady, I realize something astonishing…
This is the first time since we met that we’re actually sleeping together, and as I drift off with Alice in my arms, I wish this moment would never end—even as I look forward to waking up with her in my bed.