Page 59 of Cry Madness
I slam the hammer on his left knee. Again, he chokes on a strangled wail. I admire the wreckage, allowing March to jump in and use the cable cutter on Virgil’s toes. It’s messy work, but necessary because women expect a certain safety standard in Wonderland. This miserable motherfucker must be the exampleof what happens when that expectation is broken. And although I’d love to be the person who sends this prick to hell, this isn’t my kill.
I promised March I wouldn’t hog this one.
Virgil Adaway belongs to him.
Rook Knavish is mine.
TWENTY-ONE
“We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.”
—The Cheshire Cat,Alice in Wonderland
Iaccepted the dangerous truth that I belong in the shadows years ago. Accepting that I exist in a mental sphere where the light doesn’t dare to shine. I deserve to be shrouded in darkness. It’s a fitting prison, a proper punishment for the sins I’ve committed. For the lives I’ve taken. And yet, Alice is, and always has been, a flickering flame of salvation that pulls me back from the edge of the bleak trench right when I need her most.
Right before I fall.
Like I almost did tonight.
Virgil Adaway was a rapist. Some people might say I should have handed him over to the law. I’m not one of those people. In fact, I’m glad he’s dead, and I’m proud that I’m the man who murdered him. But it was easier to take a life when Alice wasmiles away. Her absence kept hidden my actions that are best kept locked away in darkness.
My bones still vibrate with the need for violence and my body pulsates from the kill. Every nerve ending is on fire, demanding…more. Always more like a starving beast that’s never satisfied…
…unless I’m with Alice.
She quiets the demons screaming in my head. Soothes the monster scratching to break free.
With my jaw clenched and nostrils flared, I glare at the phone in my gloved hand. The fingers of my other hand are wrapped around the steering wheel. “Lonely Day” by System of a Down whispers from the speakers. It’s after midnight, and I need her.
I need her so fucking badly.
Making a snap decision, I call her.
The phone rings once…
Twice…
After the fourth ring, I’m about to hang up when she answers. Her sleep-graveled voice is husky, soft—better than my favorite song. “Maddox. What’s wrong?”
The urgency in her question has me shaking my head even though she can’t see me. “Nothing. I needed to hear your voice,” I tell her, my words muffled behind the balaclava.
Not wanted.Needed.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine, Malice.”
“You mean fucked up, insecure, neurotic, emotional sort of fine?”
I bark out a loud laugh. “No, I mean an actual ‘fine,’ as in, I’m good, baby, promise.”
“Your voice is muffled.” That sounds a lot like an accusation. “You’re wearing that mask, aren’t you? Maddox, are you in trouble?”
“No, I’m not in trouble,” I assure her as I lift the balaclava.
“Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”
“Alice, I’m good. I don’t need rescuing.”