He laughs, the sound strained. “Don’t play me for a fool. I’m not stupid. It’s going to take a while for you to fall in love with me.”
Like never.
The fire starts to crackle and warm the chilly cabin. Rain continues to pummel the earth outside, giving the entire place a musty smell that’s nearly overwhelming. I idly wonder what Nico’s words taste like.
Where is Thorn right now? No doubt cleaning up after his murder, or maybe he’s at Malice Media trying to save his life. I hope so. Even if I depart this world, I hope he survives the illness. I know we don’t make sense to most people, but I feel him where it counts, and I want the best for him.
Love hurts. It’s like a constant slicing of a blade through my insides when I’m not with him. Maybe we’ll meet in death. The macabre thought cheers me, which is all sorts of fucked up.
Nico dusts his hands together. “Tell you what, I’ve got the place stocked with food. I’m going to make you a nice meal, because you didn’t eat much earlier, and then we’re going to talk and figure this out.”
So long as I can keep him talking, at least I’m not being shot or stabbed. “All right.” Curiosity gets the better of me. “Why did you smash those women’s faces in?”
“Because they weren’t you,” he says, tossing me what could be considered a charming smile if he wasn’t a psychopathic bastard.
“Oh,” I say lamely. I’m going to have to run for it, but I really need my hands free in case I have to fight. “Nico, will you untie me?”
“Not quite yet. Let me cook for you first.” Surprisingly, he grabs the back of my wooden chair and drags me closer to the kitchen. “Just in case you decide to run.”
I’m not bound to the chair, but it’s unlikely I can reach the door before he tackles me onto the blood-covered wooden floor. “What are you making?” I ask lamely. “More pizza?”
He shakes his head. “No, I can do better than that. Let me look through the fridge.”
There’s a small avocado green fridge at the end of a torn Formica counter that probably was orange at some point. He starts humming as he brings out fruit and berries, before reaching in a cupboard for pancake mix. “How about hotcakes? I’m pretty good at making those.”
“Sounds great,” I say, searching the kitchen. There have to be knives somewhere.
“Good.” He’s oddly cheerful. Maybe killing does that for him.
My feet are going numb, it’s so chilly. “Why did you set up the whole murder board and have us play detectives?”
Pride fills his face. “I needed you to find out what your dad knew. Plus, it was fun.”
What an ass. I look for a way to reach him. “Nico, I have to get back to charge the crystals. You know that.”
“Oh yeah.” He starts whipping the batter in a bowl. “You’re right, but that’s not going to happen for a while. Mathias should be able to handle things.”
“He’s not as good as I am.”
“Nobody is,” Nico says and winks.
Oh man, I might throw up again. I watch him carefully, looking for a way to get that gun from him. It’s my only chance. Perhaps if we eat together, he’ll relax and then I can go for it.
He dishes up two plates and moves me closer to the two-person table at the far end of the other counter. “Isn’t this cozy?”
“Sure is,” I say, looking down at my hands. “You’re going to have to untie me. I can’t eat like this.” I’m trying really hard to ignore the bloodstains on the floor.
He sighs. “I’ll feed you.”
I gag. I can’t help it. My legs are freezing and my cheek aches from where he hit me. “Nico,” I start.
Just then the door bursts open and Thorn barrels inside with Justice on his heels. He lunges for me. Nico wails and backs away, grabbing his gun. Thorn jumps at him and Nico fires. Pain explodes in my shoulder and I fly back, my head thunking on the floor.
Then darkness takes me under, and I feel nothing.
THIRTY-EIGHT
Alana
I wake up in the hospital, everything hurting, and look up to see my father asleep in a chair, dressed in a golf shirt with tan slacks. His gray suit jacket is hanging over the arm of the chair.
“Dad.” My voice cracks.
He bolts awake. “Alana.”
I look at a bandage around my left arm. “What happened?”
“You were shot.”
“Oh, by Nico.” Tears gather my eyes. “He killed Mom.”
My dad scrubs a hand down his worn face. “I know. Thorn filled me in.”
“Thorn!” I look wildly around. “I’m surprised he’s not here.”
“He was, but . . .”
My heart stops. “But what?”
