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MARGOT

S ix years ago, I made the worst mistake of my life.

I agreed to foster a seventeen-year-old boy who teased me, taunted me, and haunted my dreams every night that I fell asleep. He turned me into a monster, a woman capable of preying on the young and innocent.

I wanted that seventeen-year-old more than any respectable grown woman should ever think to, and it made me sick to my stomach. So sick I had to get rid of him if I had any chance in hell of saving my soul.

When he was gone, he still managed to haunt me. The friends he brought to my house occasionally showed up looking for him, and one scorching summer day, when I was at my most vulnerable, I invited one in for a glass of lemonade.

Please understand that I was in shambles. My identity was fractured. The caring, loving person I thought I saw in the mirror was now gone.

I didn’t know who I was. I didn’t know who I wanted to be.

Hudson knew something was wrong that afternoon. He was charming and handsome and kind in ways that were a stark contrast to my old foster son. He claimed he was eighteen, and I believed him. He seemed so mature, so beyond his years.

He came by the next day with a homemade batch of cookies just to say thank you for the lemonade. I took them with a quivering smile and nearly broke. It had been so long since someone had cared about me, since someone had thought of me.

I was weak.

And he was kind.

The sex we had that day in my bed was the most passionate I’d ever had. When he delivered a gorgeous bouquet of roses to my work two days later, I thought my life was turning around.

We had sex every single night for weeks. I saw myself on his phone’s background and blushed. I listened to his declaration of love and wept.

Looking back, there were so many red flags I missed. The way he would fume if I didn’t take his call at work… The endless questions about my male coworkers… The missing panties, the missing stray cat that hung around my back porch, the possessive way he held me.

The first flag I finally recognized was the trip to Paris he booked, going so far as telling my boss I wouldn’t be at work the next two weeks. My boss threatened to fire me—I’d been so distant lately—and I confronted Hudson with barely contained frustration.

He hit me. Then wailed, begging me to forgive him.

I tried to break up with him, and he threatened to kill himself.

I changed my locks, and he broke a window.

I got a new phone number, and he loaded my inbox so full of rants, clients’ emails were swallowed up in the storm.

I was fired and remained unemployed for six months before I finally allowed Hudson into my house again, begging him to stop sabotaging my prospects with his calls to potential employers.

I cried to him. I begged him. And he relented.

For the moment.

Not a day went by for two years that he didn’t threaten to call the police on me for my relationship with him. He threatened to tell them I raped him, groomed him even.

Then he became a police officer. The threats intensified. I offered to pay him to leave me alone. He declined for six months. Then finally, finally we worked out an exchange.

I would pay him every month to keep my secret and not approach me. For years, it’s worked.

But now he’s back.

“No!” I cry as Hudson knocks Arseni out with his gun. My hand over my mouth, I fall to my knees and inspect the lump on Arseni’s temple. It’s skipped over red and gone straight to purple.

I tap Arseni’s face and bend so close that our lips brush. “Wake up. Please .”

I peek at Hudson as he struts to the three men who were after me.

“Arseni, wake up!” I slap his face while my tears drip onto his cheeks. He doesn’t stir.

Hudson fires two shots a piece into the men before turning back to me. I hunch over Arseni and cower, my head spinning.

What do I say?

What do I do?

Why didn’t he kill Arseni?

My eyes close at this thought, and I wail while covering Arseni’s body with mine, though I know it’s a mistake. Because I know Hudson.

I’m his.

I’m always going to be his.

God pity the man who tries to take me away.

As Hudson nears, I force myself to stand and step over Arseni’s body to partially block it. “He isn’t breathing.” I force my eyes onto the devil’s. They’re angry. Fiery . Fuming with vengeance.

“Th-thank you,” I whisper, my voice shaking with fear I hope he’s too delusional to see. In my experience with him, he’s smart, but he likes to fool himself. It’s all a fantasy to him. He punishes me every time I try to ruin it.

“I…” I take a step closer and lay my trembling hands against his chest. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t rescued me.”

“Rescued you,” Hudson deadpans. His lip curls, but he doesn’t push my hands away. He’d never do that.

He just wants me to grovel.

“Do you think I don’t know every sick, twisted fucking fantasy you’ve been living out…” Hudson’s voice is low and menacing, barely contained rage bubbling beneath the surface. He points to Arseni. “With him ?”

I shake my head, but I don’t know what to say. I never know what to say to him.

“You’re sick, Margot.” His eyes narrow with derision as he takes me in. “You need help.”

“Yes.” I nod several times, tears leaking down my face. I know exactly what he’s saying.

I’m a pedophile. He tells me all the time when he’s angry. Never mind the fact that he’s the same age as Arseni, and they’re both grown men.

You’re faking it with him , he wrote to me in unknown blood on my bathroom mirror three months ago. He was talking about Austin.

I know what you really like , he followed up in an email the next day. Photos of children were attached.

I’m not that , I almost sent back. But I knew better than to defend myself. I took the rest of the day off and spent it crying in my bed.

“Yu-you’re right. I’m sick.” I take Hudson’s hands, my fingers grazing the gun. He tightens his hold on it and eyes me suspiciously. “Please help me, Hudson.” Running my hands up his arms, a sob escapes. “Show me what I need. Please .”

“You only wanted me when I was a child.” He shakes his head, still admonishing me. Some of the anger has left his eyes.

“That’s not true.” I close my eyes and bite back the oncoming sob. “I-I just didn’t know what I wanted. You’ve always been there for me, and—and—and now I see that. I see how much I need you.”

Taking a deep breath, I prepare to go in for the kill.

“Hudson Nathanial Peters… I love you.”

I hold his arms gently while trying not to cry. My own voice is glass in my ears. It hurts to say these words not because I don’t love Hudson—of course I don’t—but because I mean what I’m saying. Just to the wrong man.

I’ve never told a man I loved him before, and it feels like agonizing irony that the man I love is lying unconscious on the road, his brain possibly filling with blood.

“I love you,” I say again, just so I say the words aloud. I’m looking at Hudson but speaking to Arseni. “You’re the only person in my life who’s made me feel like I have everything I need. I feel alone without you. I… I can’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me.” Hudson frowns, holstering his gun. He places both hands on my shoulders in a possessive embrace. “I’m devoted to you, Margot. You’re the love of my life and always have been.”

“I know.” I nod several times. “You’ve always done such a good job of showing me… Now it’s time for me to show you.”

He lets me take his hand and lead him a step toward the car before he stops. I hold my breath and resist the urge to look at Arseni. I peek over my shoulder. “Hudson, please… I want to go home. With you .”

He stares at me for several seconds that last for hours. I stare at him back hoping my eyes shine with innocence. Hudson is a maniac, but he isn’t stupid. He can lie to himself, but I don’t expect his guard to vanish.

Please leave.

Please, please leave.

If Arseni wakes up while we’re still here…

Finally, Hudson nods, his eyes roaming to Arseni. The one look holds the breath in my lungs, like I expected him to just forget about the man I have to leave behind because I can’t bear to stay and watch him die.

“Baby…” The pet name is pushing it. I can feel that it’s pushing it, but Hudson doesn’t blink. He nods again and steps around me to get to Arseni.

“Wh-what are you doing?” My whole body tenses as I watch Hudson lug Arseni up by his arm. He grunts as he slings him over his shoulder.

“We need him.”

“But why?”

Hudson doesn’t answer right away. I follow him as he hauls Arseni’s body to the trunk of his car.

“Somebody has to take the fall for the photos in your house… I’m not going to let you go down for that.”

I blink at him, but he doesn’t look at me. Neither of us mention the absolute irony of that statement. He pops the trunk and strains to lift Arseni inside. Arseni’s body makes a thump, his foot hanging out.

“Thank you, but why would you think he’d take the fall?

I… I’m sorry, I just don’t think I can spend another second with this man.

He—he protected me from his boss, so he isn’t bad, and maybe he’s even an okay friend, but I’ve spent too much time around him already, and all I want is to be with you. ”

Hudson looks at me and sighs. “Baby, that’s all I want too. And believe me, in an hour, we’ll leave Vegas forever, but we have to take care of this first. You don’t want me to have to go on the run with a fugitive, do you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “No, I…” My mouth hangs open as I think. Finally, I point to the trunk. “He’s selfish. He’ll never take the fall for me.”

Hudson’s jaw clenches, making my shoulders hunch at the anger that suddenly brews. “Yes, he will.”

Don’t respond . My brain yells it at me, but I don’t listen.

“How do you know?”

Hudson looks away, his anger near explosive. “Because he loves you.”

The tension in my shoulders releases abruptly, though my heart lowers to the road.

I don’t know why it affects me so deeply to hear Hudson say it when I heard the confession just last night.

But it hits me hard, and I realize for the first time that Nikita could see it too.

That was the point in having me run to my death.

And Hudson… Arseni must’ve spoken to him. They must’ve maintained a relationship after all these years.

When Arseni asked me to tell him Hudson’s name, I had to refuse. I thought I was protecting him, but now I realize I was protecting me. I was ashamed. It was bad enough that I had sex with someone Arseni’s age. I couldn’t admit it was one of his friends.

If I had, maybe Hudson would be dead instead of the others.

I look at the trunk, my eyes seeking to implore Arseni for forgiveness he can’t give… But I notice something.

His foot. It isn’t hanging out of the trunk.

Hudson rubs his head, seeming lost in an enraged fantasy. He wanders the few feet to the trunk only to be kicked backward by a shoe to the balls. Hudson’s eyes widen as his clenched jaw drops, wheezing in a groan. He stumbles backward as Arseni whips out of the trunk, landing on his feet.

He tackles Hudson to the ground just as the psycho snaps into fight mode, his growl making me jump. Arseni lands a blow to Hudson’s face but makes the mistake of turning to look at me.

Hudson rips Arseni’s head back and throws him off. Manic eyes find me before Hudson starts to crawl my way like a figure from a scary movie. I scream.

Arseni jumps for Hudson, locking his arm around Hudson’s neck and pulling. “Run!” Hudson bucks, but Arseni holds on tight, and I do as commanded. I run.

And it’s a mistake. A stupid, moronic mistake that I’ll never forgive myself for.

I could’ve gotten a phone, the car keys, a gun , but instead I just run over the dead men like a panicked woman without a fucking clue. It isn’t until the thought of grabbing a gun occurs that I remember the other one holstered on Hudson’s hip.

I come to an abrupt stop, my lungs sucking in a gasp as I spin to yell out for Arseni.

And that’s when I hear the gunfire. It’s muted. Just a light pew . But lethal.

I run for Arseni as he stumbles backward toward the hole in the barrier, holding his stomach.

“Arseni!” I screech, pumping my legs harder.

He looks over at me at the sound of my scream. His heel slips on broken rock as he steps back too far. He grasps at air as he falls

“No!” I run to the ledge and fall to my knees while peering over as Arseni hits the water. “Arseni!” I scream again. I climb to my feet to jump in after him, but Hudson grabs me just as my feet lift from the ground.

I scream and thrash while Hudson hauls me back to the car.

“Shut up, shut the fuck up!” he yells in my ear, his arm wrapped around me tightening. I think he just hates the sound of me crying over another man, but then I hear the car.

I turn to it, waving my arms and begging for help while Hudson tries in vain to stop me.

“Help, please, help!”

“If you don’t shut your mouth right now, I’ll kill them. Do you understand?”

I quiet, but it isn’t because of the threat. It’s because I’m confused.

The car isn’t slowing down. It’s engine revs as it speeds up.

Hudson realizes it shortly after I do, the distraction loosening his hold.

I break away from him, heading for the lake but stop short and scream as the car pegs Hudson before slamming the cop car’s backend, metal crunching on metal.

The sound is so loud, I feel my heart stop, and I just stare at the stranger jumping out of the smoking car.

No. Not a stranger.

“Arseni?” the man from the party, Luka , asks, his eyes wide with fright. I point a quivering finger at the lake and stumble on words that he doesn’t listen to anyway.

He runs to the side and dives off without the slightest hesitation. I move to watch him splash, Arseni nowhere to be found.