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Kara's eyebrows lift a hair, her pink lips pushing outward. This is what pity looks like. She realizes that Dominic's hooks are so deep in my heart that I want to deny what she tells me because it will taint me.

It will tainthim.

Also, if what she says is true, my life is going to change.

“Dominic killed Bernard,” she says. “Murdered him while they were alone on a ski trip.”

Bernard.I haven't heard that name in years. “How can you know this?” I ask, reeling.

Her soft features are marred by a sorrow I can't fully grasp. Her fingers come up, brushing through her hair, moving further like she's brushing the phantoms of longer pieces. “Because Dominic was the only one with him that night.” Then her anger returns ten-fold. “He denied it just enough to not get arrested, but he told his uncle he was responsible. He got away, free as a bird, while Bernard...” she trails off.

I reach for her, wanting to hug her and heal her pain. Her eyes go dull, unfocused, as she leans forward towards my touch like she has so many times when we were kids. At the last second she stops herself. I don't think there's room in me for more pain, but she proves me wrong. “Kara, what am I supposed to do?”

“Are you joking?” she hisses. “Laiken! He's a MURDERER! The only thing you should do is keep away from him. Nothing about him is good. It's all tricks and lies. All of it.”

I struggle to shout that she's wrong but my tongue is stiff as cement. I knew when Dominic came back into my world that something was different, something wrong, and twisted, and awful. He couldn't hide it. It winked at me from his black eyes... it simmered in his calculating, precise threats.

He was capable of dragging me back to this house when I tried to run.

He was capable of threatening me, terrifying me, interrogating me.

Again and again, he's told me lies.

I dig down, aching for a way to prove she's wrong but I can't find anything. Kara's words have struck my heart into silence.

These past few days with Dominic, I'd carved away the layers that hid his tender soul. I felt the warmth that burned between us even during a raging storm. I began to believe he was capable of loving me. None of that matters now.

Maybe some people are strong enough to love a killer.

But I'm not.

To Be Continued