Chapter Twenty-Four — The Monster He Chose #3
ed at him.
“I thought Saint was just someone online.” “Until?” “The first photograph.” Ronan felt cold.
“You thought Saint was watching you.” “Yes.” “But you never told me.” “No.” “Why?” “Because part of me…” Elliot stopped. Ronan waited. “Liked it.”
There. That was Elliot. Ugly truth instead of useful lie. Ronan stared.
“Being watched.”
“Not exactly.”
“What then?”
“Being known.”
That landed. Hard. Elliot continued quietly.
“Someone knew what I’d done and didn’t hate me.”
Ronan’s chest tightened. Fuck. He understood that. Too well now.
“You thought Saint accepted you.”
“Yes.”
“And now Nathan thinks you did it for him.”
“Yes.”
Ronan looked toward the storage room. Then back.
“Maybe Saint wanted you to.”
Elliot’s face hardened.
“I chose every one.”
“That's not what I mean.”
“I know.”
“You don’t get to take full responsibility just because manipulation makes you uncomfortable.”
Elliot stared. Ronan continued.
“You killed them. That’s on you.”
“Yes.”
“But if someone spent months feeding whatever was already wrong in your head—”
“Careful.”
Ronan stopped. Not anger. Pain. He softened.
“Whatever was already there.”
“Better.”
“Asshole.”
“Yeah.”
Ronan rubbed his neck.
“We need the forum records.”
Elliot laughed softly.
“Police?”
“No.”
That answer surprised both of them. Ronan heard it. Elliot stared.
“Then who?”
Ronan looked at him.
“I don’t know yet.”
There it was. We. Again. He hated how easily it returned. Elliot noticed too.
“You’re staying.”
Ronan’s expression hardened.
“Tonight.”
Elliot smiled faintly.
“Right.”
“Don’t push.”
“I’m not.”
“You are with your face.”
“My face is innocent.”
Ronan laughed.
“Your face has killed five people.”
Elliot went still. Wrong. Ronan immediately regretted it. Then Elliot started laughing. Actually laughing. Ronan stared.
“What?”
“That was terrible.”
“I know.”
“Really terrible.”
“I fucking know.”
Elliot laughed harder. Ronan tried not to. Failed. For several seconds, they stood in a kitchen full of secrets at four in the morning laughing like fucking idiots. It felt wrong. Maybe everything did now. Then Elliot’s phone vibrated. Both stopped. Not unknown. Detective Vance. Elliot answered.
“Hello?”
Her voice was loud enough that Ronan heard.
“Nathan Reed is asking for you.”
Elliot went still. Ronan stepped closer.
“Why?”
“He won’t say.”
“Then no.”
There. Ronan answered for him. Elliot looked over. Vance paused.
“Ronan?”
“Yes.”
“He specifically requested Elliot.”
“I heard.”
Vance’s voice hardened.
“He says he’ll explain the five names.”
Silence. Ronan stared at Elliot. Elliot’s expression changed. Not fear. Need. He had to know. Ronan knew before Elliot spoke.
“I’ll go.”
“No.”
Elliot looked at him. Vance heard.
“I can have officers present.”
Ronan ignored her.
“He manipulated you once.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Saint.”
Elliot froze. Vance went silent. Fuck. Ronan closed his eyes. He had said the name. Out loud. To Vance. Elliot stared at him.
“What is Saint?” Vance asked.
Nobody answered. Her voice sharpened.
“Ronan.”
He looked at Elliot. Another choice. Another lie. Another piece of himself Nathan predicted he would surrender. Elliot slowly shook his head. Not asking him to lie. Telling him not to. That mattered. Ronan inhaled.
“It’s relevant.”
Elliot closed his eyes. Vance went quiet.
“How relevant?”
Ronan stared at Elliot.
“I think Nathan may have been communicating anonymously with Elliot before Mason Kerr died.”
Silence. Elliot looked at him. No anger. Not yet. Vance asked:
“About what?”
Ronan swallowed.
“About people getting what they deserve.”
Elliot turned away. The words were out now. Not five murders. Not the mask. But something. A thread. Vance would pull it. Ronan knew that. Maybe Elliot did too.
“When?” she asked.
“Months ago.”
“Username?”
Ronan looked at Elliot. Elliot stared toward the window. Then he answered for himself.
“Saint.”
Ronan’s chest tightened. Vance went silent. Long enough that both brothers looked toward the phone. Then she said:
“We recovered that word from Nathan’s notebook.”
Everything stopped. Elliot turned.
“What?”
“Repeatedly.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Ronan looked at Elliot. Saint. Nathan. The mentor. The watcher. Finally connecting. Vance continued.
“And there’s one more thing.”
Of course.
“What?” Elliot asked.
“Nathan isn’t the account holder.”
Silence. Ronan felt cold spread slowly through his body. Elliot’s voice dropped.
“How do you know?”
“Because he gave us access to his devices.”
“And?”
“The Saint account was messaging Nathan too.”
Ronan stared. Elliot stopped breathing. Vance said the words quietly.
“Whoever Saint is, he was talking to both of you.”
The room went completely still. Nathan had watched Elliot.
But someone else had watched Nathan. Someone else had shaped the game.
Someone else knew all five murders. And for the first time, Ronan understood that Nathan Reed might not be the monster standing at the center of this.
He might only be another good boy who learned how to bite.