Page 189 of Chalk Outline

“I know where her biological parents are.”

“Bullshit,” my voice slices through the room, resonant and sharp.

“Want to try me?” James tilts his jaw with a smug grin, his vacant eyes slowly flick to meet mine. “We can trade. Your parents for your husband.”

I will never do that.

Reeve’s throat bobs as he swallows thickly.

“If you worked for my grandma long enough, then you learned from a master manipulator. You know how to play with all the pawns, twist them, trick them, and trap them in a well-crafted game you created.”

Kim’s hand tightens around the knife. Her breathing is sharp in my ears.

“What are you getting at?”

“Whose idea was it to turn this prison into what it is?” I ask, raising my brow at him.

“Surprisingly, your grandma. I just took her idea to the next level and spent the last year searching for the right players. Visual effects always work best when you see them live.”

“I can tell that you did, but you’re wrong.”

“Where am I wrong?” he studies me.

I spent my entire life fighting my demons. When I pushed them away, they came back stronger. Deadlier. Or so I thought, but I was the one who changed. I crossed the lines and emerged from my cage in every waking moment. In my nightmare-painted reality, I always held the key to the prison within my mind.

That’s one of the many reasons I wanted Reeve to open that door for me. His prison was the circus, mine was a palace. He took the blame, risked his life, and refused to back down, all so I could spread my wings and fly. I took a chance, fought for my life, and refused to believe he was gone, all so I could see him again.

I knew he was right in front of me all along, and being apart hurt. Sometimes I didn’t want to accept it. I thought it was all in my head. But that moment in the van, the night of the party, I felt him. Everything made sense again, even though I was a mess.

I’ve always had a peculiar mind, especially when I sketched. I wanted them to stop treating me like I was made of glass. No one can break something that’s already broken. And something inside me was broken until Reeve came and glued all the pieces back together.

I just got him back.

I’m not losing him again.

“My grandma collected all my drawings since I was a little girl,” I finally answer. “All of these rooms are based on my sketches. It took me a moment to realize, but it made sense why there’s a playroom and a dinner, and why there are so many empty rooms—because that’s how I felt. Romina Bishop didn’t build a prison; she brought my mind to life. She gave my demons a home somewhere far away. The chaos came after.”

“That’s a nice speech, Winona. But I can always kill you. I’m just being nice.” James keeps blabbing and lighting his cigarette while Reeve gives me a slight nod of confirmation and signals Mitch to execute our next move together.

Reeve jumps to wrap his legs around James’s neck. The chains rattle angrily yet keep him balanced and upright. The cigarette hanging from his dad’s lips is shoved into his mouth. He chokes on it, spits it out, and groans from the burn it caused.

“Killing me won’t stop what’s coming, Reeve.” James grunts.

“I know, but it’ll give me peace.”

Distracted, Kim remains silent behind Mitch and me. I carefully pull out my pocket knife. She twitches uncontrollably as Reeve squeezes his thighs to suffocate James.

“Reeve, it’s your father!” Kim yells as James turns redder.

I stick the blade into her right thigh. Mitch spins around and yanks the gun from her hand. She shrieks as I grab her left wrist and twist it. Her knife thuds to the floor.

Reeve growls. A single gunshot echoes, followed by the crunching sound of bones breaking.

Kim grips my throat with both hands as I plunge the blade into her chest. A gasp escapes her. Everything stills around me when I look at the woman from earlier who begged me not to kill her.

Blood oozes around the knife as I yank it back.

That’s her knife.