Page 95 of Killer of Mine

I failed to hunt him down after I was free.

And now, even with a whole team of FBI agents on my side, I’ve failed again.

My legs give out beneath me.

River catches me under my arms and picks me up. He shifts till he’s holding me against his chest, one arm underneath my legs, the other at my back. He murmurs soft words in my ear and carries me out of the basement.

I bury my face in the crook of his arm.

“We’ll get him, Freya, I promise you,” River swears.

I don’t say anything. I can’t. For the first time, I’m not sure I believe him.

CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

Eli

“GO AWAY, ELI.”

That’s the first thing Freya says to me when I open the door to River’s room. The lights are off, with just a single bedside lamp lending a soft glow to the room. His usually neatly made bed is a little creased, like it’s been slept in all day. Freya’s sitting on the window seat, staring out into the street.

I ignore her edict and take a step inside.

“I said, leave.”

She did, but she’s been saying that to all of us for the past two weeks and I’m done with it. She slept for a long time after we got back from Maxwell’s house. When she woke up, she tried to go hide away in her room, but River wasn’t having that, so she’s hiding in here instead.

“No,” I say.

She’s got her legs pulled up to her chest, her feet pressing into the navy seat cushion and her arms hugging her knees. She seems so small and fragile like this but when she looks over at me, a storm brews in her eyes. “I’m resting,” she says.

“You’re hurting,” I counter.

She lifts her shoulders and turns back to face the window and the darkening sky outside. “Maybe I deserve to hurt.”

Oh no, she doesn’t get to do that.She does not get to give up. We may not have found Maxwell, but we saved a woman’s life. And we got Freya’s sister out.

We will catch Maxwell, I will allow nothing less. And Freya is going to be by our side when we do, not wallowing in her own misery.

“Get up,” I say.

She doesn’t listen.

I cross the room and pull her up from under her arms, dragging her off the window seat.

“Hey!” she scrambles in my arms like a little kitten. She’s barely eaten the last couple of weeks and she’s light as a feather. Whatever’s going on inside her head, it needs to stop.

“Put me down, Eli.”

I do as she says but spin her to face me and grab her wrists the second she tries to pull away.

Her face crumples. “Just leave me alone.”

“No.”

“Why are you even here? Jude or Oz I’d understand, even River, but you? You hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.”