Page 41 of Kill for a Kiss

The silence lasts too long for my liking. I cut into the man’s neck, earning a terrified whimper. And then, one speaks.

“They’re prototypes!” he shouts quickly, then forces his words through obvious trembling, “S-Synthetic psychoactives. We, uh, started with lysergic acid as the base. Then we, um, fused it with neuro-adaptive compounds. It influences memory and can rewrite it, s-sir.”

He swallows, looking nervous, while someone else speaks, at least with a semblance of guilt. “It’s memory-tampering…and long-term conditioning.”

I don’t respond. I can’t when rage is building in my chest like a wildfire. They may be nervous now, guilty even. But it’s all too fucking late. They’ve helped deal the damage that’s ruined this town, this state, and if I know Clo well, she’s already distributed this on a global scale. But none of that matters at all. What’s more vital to me is that Clo’s been drugging Elle, to make her forget andreplacewhat’s real.

I lean in, pressing the knife hard enough to draw a bead of blood. “How much and how often’s the dose needed for full effect?”

“Depends,” another answers. “Some are on daily doses. Others, less often, with reinforcement through scent, suggestion, or routine.”

The words hit me. Reinforcement, routine. Elle drinking tea. Clo telling Elle toslow down. It’s all part of it. She’s not just trying to own Elle. She’s trying totake overher.

I turn the blade slightly, and let the weight of silence crush them. I’ve always played this sick game with blood on my hands. Close enough to feel it, to be the killer that sees the piles of bodies. Buttonight, I’m not just playing this game. I’m going to start burning the board, even if it’s this little corner for now.

There’s no turning back anyway, because I’ve seen Elle’s eyes. I’ve seen the way they were beginning to fade. Those surgically blue eyes, somehow dulled by what Clo’s feeding her, thick with confusion that doesn’t belong to her. A horrible feeling she doesn’t deserve to feel, or to lose herself in. That’s what I’m fighting now. And the men who help make it possible won’t get mercy.

“Who runs distribution?” I ask, knuckles white around the collar of the man in my grip.

His mouth presses close, then opens. “I don’t—I just—the formulas—”

My blade presses to his throat. More blood beads.

“I don’t know!” he gasps. “Please, I swear!”

I slam him down and move to the next. He’s older, more afraid, maybe wiser. He’s already nodding, stiffening with his eyes open and alert at me.

My voice comes out as a low growl. “Who distributes?”

He openly sobs. “It’s a-all encrypted, sir! We only have access to specs and results!”

Clever, Clo. Even your monsters don’t know whose leash they’re on. I swing a tray into his ribs. It lands with a crack. He crumples with a choked cry.

I ask more questions. They have fewer and fewer helpful answers. None of them are giving me what I really need. They’re terrified anduseless. So fine, I’ve made them freeze in fear, so I stun them into silence. Then drench the lab in fuel.

I strike the match. Let it fall. Flames roar to life, ravenous and bright. Screams echo behind me as I turn my back on them, locking them in. Heat licks at my spine. I don’t move a muscle.

I watch it all while the fire feeds on every lie they manufactured inthis sterile hell. Clo should feel the heat, even all the way from here.

Staying still, I wait for a while. After seeing the flames spread, hearing the broken cries that quiet when too much smoke’s filled their lungs, and feeling the sweat bead all over my body, that’s when I decide to make my exit, moving into the street, as noxious clouds of gray go upward like a warning to the sky.

The lab was one square. One corner. A sacrifice. But the queen’s the problem, bleeding power into everything she touches. I want her off the goddamn board.

Clo’s still sequestered in that house, where Elle walks through shadows, forgetting her name a little more each day. And forgettingme, because of Stanley’s hand on her, Clo’s voice in her ear. The tea. The lies. The mirrors.

My hands clench into tight fists, stretching my gloves. My breath rattles behind my mask, but it’s the only thing filtering the hot air I breathe. It’s nothing compared to the fire in my chest.

All I can think of is how Elle’s still there, in the nightmare I dared to call home when I was nothing but a scared kid. And every hour that ticks by feels like more fuel to the fire, burning right through my ribs.

I grind my teeth, the taste of smoke biting bitter at the back of my throat, clinging to the inside of my mask. There’s too much of it to filter now. It’s my sign to retreat, so I move, slowly stepping back.

Sirens begin to wail in the distance, drawing closer, but not close enough. By the time they’ll arrive at the scene, there’ll be no one left to rescue.

I walk through the night with fire in my chest and her name pounding in my skull. Elle’s still out there, locked in that cursed estate with Stanley playing the charming prince, Clo playing the doting matriarch, and everyone else too blind to see what’s happening to her. But I see it. And I’ll tear it all down, piece by fucking piece, untilElle remembers the truth. Until she remembers me. Until she’s back in my arms again.

***

There’s no sleep for me. Elle’s in that house swallowing poison disguised as tea, each drop dragging her further from me.