Chapter 68
Evie
The Closing Image
“That should do it.”
Bryce’s voice pulled me from the darkness. My eyelids were heavy, but I fluttered them open. I wasn’t outside anymore. I was... Where was I?
“See, you’re already waking up. How ya feel, Final Girl?”
“Don’t call me that.” The words came out soft and painful. I needed water.
Bryce chuckled and patted my thigh. “All right, Evie Reyes. Whatever you say.”
I placed my hands at my sides and squeezed the softness of the bed underneath me.
There was so much pain, but it was more of a deep soreness than a shooting pain like before.
The longer my eyes stayed open, the more I gained comprehension of my surroundings.
I’d been taken to Sebastian’s bedroom. I was lying on his bed.
“What happened?” I asked, pulling myself into a sitting position.
Just then, two figures appeared in the doorway, and my heart breathed a sigh as Sebastian and Skye walked in. Skye was holding a cup, and I reached for it, my throat screaming to be quenched.
“You are a badass motherfucker, Evie Reyes.” Bryce laughed. “You took on fucking Hollywood is what happened.”
“Elliott Bradley?” I asked after draining the cup. “Where is he?”
“We left him in the pool while we got you cleaned up,” Skye explained, sitting down by my feet. She squeezed one and smiled. “You took a gunshot and survived. That is so freaking badass.”
“It hurts,” I admitted.
“No shit, Final Girl,” Sebastian said—and the world around us disappeared. The seriousness of the situation was gone for a moment as I looked up at him.
“Hey, Psycho Killer. About damn time you made it.” I smirked.
He scowled and sat down beside Bryce at the foot of the bed. “I had to go through and delete all my camera footage from the last twenty-four hours.”
Bryce continued. “Sebastian called me while on the road, and I followed him back. We got there right as you dropped. Thankfully, I know a thing or two about removing stray bullets, from growing up on the ranch.” Bryce lifted his hand and flashed the bullet. “I was able to pull this baby right out.”
My hand drifted to the wound. He’d sewn it up. It wasn’t clean, but it didn’t feel terrible.
“I’ll put some wrapping on it here in a bit. Gotta go to the store,” Bryce explained.
“What now, then?” I asked the room.
Everyone had ragged looks on their faces, and they still wore the clothes they’d been wearing at the party.
Skye was wringing a towel between her hands, and Bryce’s hair was more disheveled than I’d ever seen it.
And Sebastian, he just looked sick. He was pale, sweating, and covered in blood.
Guilt pooled in my belly as I took everyone in.
They’d done so much for me, and at what price? My return to Hollywood had aged them.
They shared looks.
“Well, we have a dead body in my pool,” Sebastian answered. “I’m going to wait until noon and open it like I normally do. That’s when I’ll find Elliott—drowned.”
“He was shot,” I told them.
They all shared the same puzzled look. Had they not looked at the body?
“I shot him, then he shot me. Then, I pushed him into the pool and closed the tarp. That’s how he died. How are you covering up a bullet wound?” I asked.
There was a beat of silence, and Bryce opened his mouth, but Skye cut him off.
“I swear if you suggest another AI suicide letter—”
“I’ve got a plan.” Sebastian stood and left the room. He was gone for a long time, and in that time, Skye and Bryce asked questions about Elliott Bradley’s last moments.
“Elliott was my biological father,” I confessed to them.
Their eyes widened.
“No shit,” Bryce said.
I nodded.
“Did he want anything from you?” Skye asked.
“Just to kill me.” I shrugged. What else could the man who had everything want from someone like me?
“Are you okay?” Skye reached for my hand, squeezing it softly.
What a loaded question. I thought about it for a long while. Was I? I sighed deeply, tears for my mother rising to the surface again. I brushed them back with my free hand and nodded to my friends.
“I am. I finally feel like my mother can rest in peace.”
And so could I.
I’d reflected a lot on my grief journey yesterday while visiting her grave.
Her headstone had been decorated with pink flowers and other trinkets from fans.
I’d picked up each and every item, thinking about the people who’d gifted them.
They loved her so much for the woman she was on screen, never knowing the woman she was off it.
My mother experienced more than I would likely ever know. Good and bad. And now that the men who hurt her for the final time were dead, I could move on.
Skye reached for something from the floor and stepped over to Sebastian’s dresser. She’d found my knives. Lita Reyes’s final gift to me were the tools I needed to claim my freedom from the pain of losing her. The words carved on those knives echoed in my brain.
Good For Her.
Good for me.
It wasn’t until we heard sirens that Sebastian returned, drenched head to toe.
“I’m about to be interviewed on the news. Anyone want to join me?”
The group helped me put a clean shirt on and go downstairs.
I took a couple of pain pills Skye had pulled from her purse.
People flooded Sebastian’s yard. He took my hand, leading me through the front door.
We could hear screaming out by the road, and when I looked, I saw twenty people, at least, with cameras and boom mics, waving and yelling to get our attention.
Together, the four of us went down to speak to them.
“Sebastian! What happened? How did Elliott Bradley end up dead in your pool?”
Anderson, Sebastian’s agent, appeared out of nowhere, pushing his way through the crowd. He stood beside us as Sebastian gave his statement to the public.
“I have spoken to the police, but I will say it here as well. Yesterday, the news came out that in the past, I have had relations with many people—many of whom were closeted men—in this industry, and in exchange, I received roles or higher salaries. I told my agent that I was going to come clean today. Elliott came and threatened me not to. He had a gun. He shot once, and the backfire caused him to drop it. I picked it up, and when he came for me, I shot him in self-defense. He fell into my pool and drowned before I could save him.”
“Why did he want you to keep quiet? Did you have sex with Elliott Bradley?”
I held my breath as Sebastian took the fall for my murder.
“No, I did not. But I have had sex with many of his colleagues. I won’t be giving out names, but it happened.
And to be honest, I really, really do not care.
” He paused, taking my hand and squeezing.
He lifted it to his lips, kissing it gently.
“Hollywood is a town full of secrets, and I and many others like me are a part of that. While I know it’s not a good look, and I’m sure that many great, more deserving people lost out on roles to me simply because I had no shame, I can’t take back what has happened.
I’m sorry to anyone I hurt while trying to advance my career.
I won’t be partaking in that kind of audition process anymore.
” Sebastian squeezed my hand as he said his public statement.
We turned to leave, letting Anderson step in to answer questions.
We went inside and spent the rest of the day repeating our story to the police over and over again. They were trying to make one of us goof up, but all four of us were tight-lipped and told the same story. Eventually, everyone took their leave, and only Sebastian and I remained.
He helped me shower, and despite knowing I could finally sleep in peace, he insisted I stay the night with him.
“Neither of us is in good shape to drive,” he said as he came into his room from his own shower. I’d been given one of his T-shirts and had already climbed into bed. He dried off, put on boxers, and joined me under the covers. I snuggled closer, and he took care not to touch my wounded shoulder.
“We did it,” I said sleepily. “My mother is finally at peace.”
“And you’re gonna be soon, too,” he said, and I gave him a look.
Realizing how ominous that sounded, he laughed and backtracked. “My bad. I meant because you’re falling asleep. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna murder you. I won’t even touch you.”
My belly fluttered, and I rolled to face him. I winced as I put weight on my left side.
“What if... I wanted you to.” I placed my hand on his warm, bare chest. His muscles were always so...
I sighed and looked up into his beautiful emerald eyes. Even in the darkness, they shone. For a brief moment, I reflected on how we’d gotten here. This man had murdered for me and still looked so innocent, so happy, so perfect.
He furrowed his dark brows, and his lips formed a thin line as he shook his head. “You gave me five chances to convince you to stay. I used them all, and I’m no closer than the day we reunited. You’re off the hook, Final Girl.”
My mouth fell open as my heart sank. No, that couldn’t be. Was he really saying no after all this time of begging me to say yes?
“I’m bad at counting,” I said, rolling back onto the pillows. “Has it really been that many?”
“Unfortunately. Which was your favorite?” He grinned and bent down, placing a tender kiss on my lips.
I kissed him back, raising my hands to his cheeks to hold him there.
“The Psycho house is definitely a top contender, but I think...”
My mind went blank. All cleverness left my brain, and I stopped kissing him, pushing him back to look him in the eyes. Quick flashes of the moments we’d had together on this journey flooded my memories—so many hot moments—but there was more to our little affair than that.
Sure, the sex was fun, but what about the inside jokes, the dogs, movie nights, popcorn with M&M’s, and working together? This had been more than just some cathartic journey of revenge for me. I hadn’t just found peace. I’d found Skye, Bryce, Cujo, Precious, and…Sebastian.
“I want to stay.”
“What?” He inhaled, sitting up slightly as his eyes widened.
I nodded. “I’m going to stay. I want you, and Cujo, and Precious, and your red pool, and I want to be your Final Girl and—”
“Groovy.” He cut me off with a deep kiss that said more than any words ever could.
Careful not to touch my bullet wound, he rolled onto me, pressing his cock against me, showing me the strength of his desire, his love. I shifted my hips to make us comfortable.
“So, this doesn’t count as extra, right?” he asked, tugging his boxers down and assisting me out of my shirt.
“Beep beep, Ritchie,” I teased.
He shut his mouth quickly, and as we made love, truly made love for the first time since that first time so long ago, I knew that this was it.
I was in too deep, and he’d won. The Psycho Killer had made me his Final Girl, and I wouldn’t change a single fucking thing about it.
My heart, mind, and soul were finally at peace.
We came together, and afterward, we lay tangled in each other’s arms. I didn’t want to pull away.
I could live like this forever, and with that thought, I shifted to face him.
I licked my lips, suddenly scared in a whole new way.
My heart was in my throat as I stared up at the man I hoped to never part from ever again.
Then I spoke the words he’d been waiting for.
“I was watching The Exorcist...” I started, my gaze holding firm with his.
A slow grin spread over his face as he replied.
“It got me thinking of you.”
THE END