Page 17 of Seduce & Destroy

I swallowed the rock in my throat. “No…”

“Then, you killed someone.”

I took a deep breath. My heart rate skyrocketed as I am faced with the truth that I wished to evade if I just didn’t say it aloud. “I k—...” I stammered. “I kil—k-k–killed someone.”

God, it’s like it’s your first time.” He rolled his eyes.

All the air left my lungs as if he’d punched me in the stomach. “It is.” I hissed. Regret washed over me. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. Fucking men, no grace or fucks given.

His jaw dropped.

“And not only that, no, I killed him.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “Who?”

“Him.” I pleaded with my eyes so that I didn’t have to say the words myself.

“Him?” He said, then immediately after, like a curtain falling it dawned on his face. The cadet wasn’t missing after all. “Oh.” He avoided my gaze.

“Father forced me. It’s not my fault. It’s not my fault. I swear” A pendulum swung in my head, swirling and mixing thoughts. None coherent. I tried my hardest not to get tearful. And failed. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

It played in a loop, but for each iteration I became more lost in who it was meant for. Was it for the poor girl who will never see baby girl grow up? Or was it for the disgraced soldier who will never redeem the soul he blackened? Or was it for the girl who took a life for the momentary justice that faded as soon as it came?

I was no better than either of them. I murdered a murderer and lost myself in the process. The old Laney and post-kill Laney were inconsolable. I had to be different now, but how could I?

I tried to push through the pain. “What is his name?” I asked, but it came out choked as my throat constricted.

“Was.” Neenan replied, placing a hand on my knee again. “The sooner you understand that the sooner you can accept it. His name was Dylan. He wa–”

“Fuck.” Lifting my knees to the seat, I leaned my forehead onto them wishing beyond anything that I could just shrink and let out a groan.

“Did he really murder Tilly?”

I nodded, letting the tears drag paths down my cheeks.

“Shit.” Neenan moved so that his arms folded around me and with it, the painful edge of anxiety and grief washed away.

Moments went by like this, and I swear I almost fell asleep with my head on his shoulder. This shitshow week had been a mental load that I would very much like to bring to a cliff and throw over the edge. Or myself.

Eventually, I built up the energy to open my eyes, blinking against the sting of tears.

A voice rumbled below me. “You done drooling on me?”

I stuttered a laugh. “No, not yet,” and tugged him closer.

As time elapsed, I felt Neenan become increasingly antsy, jittery. The bounce in his knee jostled me gently to the point that I knew he was itching to say something. His bouncing escalated to rhythmic tapping of his finger on the wood of the bench that we shared.

“What?” I leaned back in annoyed question.

“What’s going on between you and Kenna?” He said, seeming suddenly shy in his approach.

“Nothing.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Sure.”

“No, really. The time you saw us together, she’d been there for two minutes. Tops.”

“And the grinding on the training mat?”