Chapter 16
Quill
Present Day
“What the fuck, man? What the fuck?”
We’re hurrying back to my apartment. Our clothes are spattered with blood, and there’s no way a few people don’t notice. More than a few. Every single passerby stops in their tracks and stares as we make our way home, drenched in red.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” breathes Liam, absolutely freaking out. “What the fuck was that about? What’s going on, man?”
We turn into a deserted alley, and I slam him to the wall, my hand closing in on his neck.
I’m reminded of what I did to the insect, except with her, I’d never squeeze.
Well, not enough to kill her. Doesn’t mean the urge isn’t there, but I’ve learned to control it.
I would rip my own body apart, limb by limb, before I hurt a hair on her head.
Not that she doesn’t deserve it, and a lot worse, too.
But Liam… well, I’m about one second away from throttling the life out of him, and he throws his hands up in a capitulating gesture.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” he wheezes, and the only reason I let go is because of how inconvenient it would be to kill him right now. I’m already screwed enough as it is. I don’t need another body to cover up.
Anyway, I know why he’s freaking out. Why Dane probably is too, though I ripped out my earpiece and have no idea.
Great, I think to myself. Another piece of evidence left behind.
But right now, I don’t care. I don’t give a shit about anything other than that bastard Jones speaking the name he had no right to speak.
And the meaning behind his words.
We reach my apartment in silence. It’s in the heart of Astley, a few streets over from the business section, on the top floor of a high rise.
It occupies the entire floor, with a wrap-around balcony and two guest bedrooms, which is good, because Liam and Dane spend most of their time at my place.
The kitchen is state-of-the-art, though I only ever do takeout, and the elevator is private.
Great when you’re covered in blood and don’t want anyone to see.
A little late for that, in this particular situation.
It’s the kind of place most twenty-one year-olds can only dream of—even the kind of twenty-one-year-old who grew up in Astley with rich parents.
But I’m very aware, as we head up, that it’s also the kind of place that could vanish into thin air when your contracts dry up because you left an epic trail of evidence behind you.
That’s only the tip of the iceberg in terms of what you can lose, though, and I know Liam is thinking of that as he hunches over in the elevator, swiping his mask off, his face coated in sweat. We’re going to die unless we come up with an airtight excuse.
Right now, though, I don’t feel like coming up with anything. The only thing I care about is the meaning behind Jones’ plea for life.
So much for killing him to get rid of the thoughts. They’re here now, in full force.
Dane is waiting for us at the apartment, and he’s clearly not so stupid as Liam. He doesn’t say a thing for the moment, just looks at me with a careful expression.
Wondering if I’m still in a killing mood, I guess.
I fucking am.
I fall on the couch in the living room, not caring that my bloody clothes are staining its whiteness red.
Dane and Liam sit quietly too, and for a long time, no one speaks. My mind is spiraling.
“Did you know?” I ask finally.
“Huh?” says Liam, as Dane looks at me questioningly.
“About the Day killing.” I spit the name out, because it’s hard to say it. But I have to. “It was a contract killing.”
I don’t know why I’m so unsettled right now.
I definitely had suspected it was a Devil kill.
But it’s one thing to suspect it. Another to have it confirmed.
And it’s something else entirely to realize the Day contract was important enough that they’re now killing off anyone even vaguely related to it.
“Of course it was a Devil contract,” says Liam without thinking, and Dane’s closed-off face tells me he knew too. But again, he’s not as much of an idiot as Liam, and was probably thinking of the best way to answer me without getting strangled.
And fuck do I want to strangle him. But I also want answers.
“Why didn’t I know this?” I ask guardedly.
There’s a long pause, and Liam has clearly decided it’s in his best interest to let Dane speak now. Not a complete idiot, after all.
Dane weighs his words carefully before answering.
“I guess… you never really chat much with the other soldiers. They gossip about the contracts, you know. I would have told you if… I thought you cared.”
“I don’t fucking care,” I snap.
And it’s true. I don’t care about her parents. But if they’re dead, that means she’s on their radar. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I spent so much effort trying to keep her far away from Devil. So much fucking effort.
I tracked her throughout college. I had the password to her online banking account, and when I saw the Greyhound charge, I knew she’d be back soon.
Even before her parents died, I’d been trying to figure out how to keep her safe. I was such a fucking idiot in high school, having her around at my dad’s house, hiding her under the sheets or in the closet when my dad would walk in and yell at me about soldier training and contracts.
She found out so fucking much.
I knew that I wasn’t allowed to have a girlfriend as a soldier. Sex is fine, but if it starts happening regularly with the same girl, and she has your phone number, and you exchange lovey-dovey texts—well, just watch out, soldier. Her name could very well be on the next contract.
I was vaguely aware of the risk, but when you’re eighteen, you feel invincible.
Now, I realize just how fucking stupid I was back then. I know that if they find out about our past relationship, worse, if they find out I’m still completely obsessed with her… she’s dead.
Which is why I got her that hotel suite and even started thinking about locking her in. I hadn’t quite crossed that bridge yet when she hurriedly returned to her house.
Since then, I’ve had a seventy-thousand dollar empty hotel suite and a big fucking problem on my hands.
A problem I now realize is a whole lot bigger than I thought.
“Who got the contract?” I ask, my voice hard.
Liam looks at Dane, who shrugs. “No idea.”
“Do you know the details?” I’m trying to keep my voice neutral, but it’s fucking hard. It sounds way too throaty and there’s a very slight tremor that I really hope they can’t hear.
“Don’t know, man,” says Dane. “Only the contractor gets the details. You know that.”
I stare at him, trying to figure out whether he’s telling me all he knows. His face betrays nothing. He’s almost as good as I am, usually.
Right now, though, I’m aware I’m a mess, because I know what a fucking snoop she is.
She’s not the type of girl to let police officers do their work after finding her parents dead. Even less so if they tell her some bullshit thing like it was a murder-suicide.
She’s a lot of things. Annoying as fuck. Bug-eyed. Smart.
I close my eyes in frustration. “Is there anything you can tell me? Is there even any point to you?”
I open them again just in time to notice Dane and Liam exchanging a worried glance. Fuck, it’s so cringe how scared they are of me sometimes. Even more scared than they are of Devil, it feels like.
“I think…” Dane hedges, probably realizing that if he doesn’t prove himself useful in the next thirty seconds, I might just end his life. “I think whoever killed the parents went out of his way not to kill her.”
My heartbeat picks up in my chest. I’m not sure how I feel about this information. I know Dane is trying to subdue me by telling me this. But all it does is remind me how fucking close someone got to her.
“How so?” I ask, my voice hard.
“We-e-ll…” Dane probably regrets saying anything, maybe because he knows his explanation is only going to piss me off. “She was in the house when it happened. He knew she was, and he didn’t try to kill her. Didn’t even touch her, or see her at all. He stuck to the contract.”
He was in her house. While she was there. He was in the same fucking house as her. He breathed the same air.
My mind is reeling. There are a thousand things I want to do right now. Find the asshole who breathed her air and destroy him. Kill Dane, the messenger. Stab Liam, the sniveling coward. Go back to Jones and put a few more bullets in his heart. Find the insect, and strangle her.
No, fuck her again.
No. Protect her.
I don’t fucking know anymore.
I settle on finding her, and figuring out what I’m going to do to her later.
I stand up abruptly, divest myself of my bloody clothes and leave them lying in a pile.
I pull on another hoodie and a fresh leather jacket, don a different pair of boots, and take off my mask.
But I slip the mask in my pocket, because I’m not allowing the insect to look at my face, ever again.
She lost that right when she whored herself out and destroyed me.
“Uhm… Quill?” asks Liam tentatively. “Where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Uh… how about Devil? They’re going to kill us if we don’t come up with a good explanation. There are so many witnesses. We’re fucked unless we figure something out. Isn’t that what we should be doing right now?”
“That’s what we should be doing,” agrees Dane, and I hesitate to get a knife from the kitchen and stab them both right now.
Instead I shrug and open the front door. “Figure it the fuck out.”