Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Zedediah
It wasn’t until I got Cat settled in that I thought of a solution to my Brady problem. This wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to handle a dead body, and I doubt it will be my last.
After walking her home, I made my way back to the graveyard.
Brady being subdued was the most helpful he’s ever been.
I really don’t like him being buried so close to Lucy. Maybe it can be a temporary resting place until I find a better way of disposal. Would the wild animals even bother eating him?
Not to mention the fact that he doesn’t deserve to be anywhere near something Catarina touched, let alone something she was bent over while she came on my cock.
Which is why I dug my blank tombstone up and leaned it against the shed beforehand.
One day, decades from now, it will be beside Catarina’s.
I’m not one to romanticize dying but I don’t want to be anywhere but by her side.
The thud when his body hit the dirt floor felt like a weight being lifted off my chest. However, it still isn’t enough to stop my mind from replaying the last words he spoke. “He’s playing you, you know? If you think there wasn’t a reason he’d let me have your slut, you’re dumber than I am.”
I tried to beat it out of him, but he wasn’t talking anymore.
“Why would I warn you? I’m dead either way.
” I crushed my boot against his throat until he passed out, then rolled him into the four-foot hole.
The guilt of not telling her everything is gnawing at me.
But, I’m not sure how she would react, plus I’m not sure how I’d even bring it up.
“Yeah, so Brady’s dead. Fenris said I could marry you now.
” I don’t think that would be the most intimate way to say it, so I’ll just skip over that small detail and give her something that resembles a proper proposal.
I think we both deserve some sense of normalcy since it isn’t something we’ve ever had.
For once, she’ll have something special—something that’s hers. I need to find out if she has any jewelry. I have a little bit of money stashed away; would a couple grand be enough for a nice ring? I’ve never seen her wear one, but I also never saw that dress I tore off of her last night.
I grab the master key I had made and sneak off toward her room. She should be busy with her day by now; it’s late in the afternoon so she’s probably outside. I open her door and her scent floods the air, that sweet, warm almond-vanilla.
I get to the bathroom and search through the cabinet under the sink. No luck. I walk over to her dresser and begin working from the bottom up, making sure to check under her clothes.
The first top drawer I open causes a smile to spread across my face. Gotcha.
The drawer is completely empty except for a lone dark box.
It’s too large to be for a ring, but maybe it’s the only storage she had.
I pick it up, running my fingers over the top before opening it.
Stone-cold dread creeps over my skin, and I feel my stomach drop like an anchor when the realization hits. This necklace—it’s unmistakable.
I saw this exact necklace every single day for nearly six years.
I’ve felt it with my own fingers. The delicate chain with ruby stones that glint under all angles of light.
The pale pendant with a lone flower in the middle.
It’s the same necklace that hung around her neck when my father and seven other men brutalized her for hours before she was murdered.
I can’t manage to calm my hands before yanking the necklace from its box.
My face feels hot and my heart sputters as the mix of confusion and fear gnaws at me from all angles.
My cheeks are warm, but somehow cold? I raise my hand to my face to make sure I’m not dreaming, feeling my skin grow clammy.
I keep asking myself the same question over and over before the necklace falls from my gasp as I run to the bathroom.
I crash against the hard floor, certain my kneecaps have just been crushed on impact, but I can’t seem to care about the pain.
Stomach acid burns my throat as I empty its contents into the toilet.
As I flush, I wipe my sleeve across my mouth and stand on wobbly legs.
Walking back over to the dresser, I lean down to pick up the necklace and stand there, frozen, unable to piece together anything that would make sense.
Panic claws its way through my body and enters my chest before it curdles into pure rage. I see red and tighten my grip around the dainty chain so hard it snaps. Before I’m able to turn around to find Cat and demand answers, her door swings open.