Page 34

W hy do these things happen at night?

The place is deserted. Aside from a few teenage boys trying to hide behind the bleachers and smoke some weed, there’s no one in sight. To be fair, they’re well hidden; they’re just too fucking loud. That was the main reason Arlo suggested we check the school grounds first, because of how obnoxiously loud the kids were being.

He gives the two kids a good scolding, and the two are terrified. Well, who wouldn’t be if two tall, rather well-built men with guns in their hands approached them? They seem scared, though they don’t voice it out. Instead, they nod to whatever nonsense Arlo’s spouting, then scurry off, tossing their joints to the ground.

“Do you think he’ll go through with the threat of killing Rose?”

Arlo’s question makes me give him a brief glance as we leave the school grounds and head to the park. It’s just across the street, with no cars or people in sight. There’s not a single house in sight, either. The school is rather in a secluded spot, deemed one of the safer areas of the city.

“No.’’

The wind annoys me, my eyes watering a little in the cold. I didn’t bring my jacket with me, and the weather’s been unpredictable all day. It stopped raining as soon as we left his apartment, but the mud on my shoes is a good indicator of how heavy the rain was.

“Do you think he’ll appear here?”

His questions make me pause to think.

Everything I know about Wyatt is either from what Aria told me, what Arlo told me, or what I managed to find myself. He’s a shady prick, always has been.

However, I don’t think he’ll kill Rose. Even Jackson wasn’t his doing. Did he order it? Most likely. He’s trying to assert non-existent dominance and has found a circle of utter and complete imbeciles that would do anything for his approval.

Even before he met Aria, he’d been an insufferable bastard, but I highly doubt he’d ever have the balls to pull the trigger himself.

His mother abandoned him when he was a toddler, which is probably where his hatred toward women stems from. His mommy issues caused it all; it’s why he treated Aria so fucking terribly. The mere thought makes me want to strangle him with my bare hands, pull his tongue out, gouge his eyes out, and then probably use a butcher knife to slice up all his limbs and toss them to the pigs.

But I can’t.

I promised Aria I’d let her handle it.

I’m not sure when the fuck I became such a good boy to be listening to anyone, but somehow, since it’s Aria, I don’t mind. She could tell me to jump off a bridge, and I’d ask which one. It’s pathetic, but being pathetic is something I’ll gladly be if it means she’ll be happy.

Which is why Wyatt is hers to deal with. It angers me, but I know deep down that if I interfere, she’ll never forgive me. Wyatt wants to take her back desperately, and somehow, the answer to Arlo’s question displeases me.

“No,’’ I breathe out. “I don’t think he’ll be here.’’

“Do you think he’ll be stupid enough to go to my place and try to take her?”

I shake my head. “Definitely no. He doesn’t have the guts to do that.’’

“Something feels fucking off,’’ Arlo comments, and I agree.

The park is empty as expected, but there’s something that just pisses me off about this whole scene. The branch snaps somewhere behind me, and I immediately turn around, the gun in my hand. The park is covered with security cameras since it’s connected to the school across the road, but I don’t have the time to worry about that.

Arlo and I exchange a glance, and he nods. Then, he takes the opposite side of me. He walks off, and I start moving forward. My eyes thoroughly scan the place, but unfortunately, I wasn’t trained to be an assassin from an early age.

The keen sense of hearing is the De Santis trait.

My trait is killing people with my fists.

Well, I do use weapons during Kortlek just so I don’t risk anything, but I’d rather deal with insignificant pests with my bare hands. There’s nothing quite like feeling the bones snap under my hands, warm blood coating my flesh — it’s what keeps me going.

At times, the blood thirst turns me into a monster.

When it happens, I’m unpredictable. What’s a world without a monster? Aria loves the monster in me, and as long as she’s by my side, he’s tame, yearning for her affection and approval. Luckily for me, she loves the blood just as much as I do.

My perfect match made in Hell. The only person who matters. The only person I’d do anything for.

Two men approach from the right. They have their guns drawn out, and I hiss under my breath. Looks like I’ll have to use a weapon, too. They start shooting immediately, and I manage to dodge a bullet. The second one grazes my skin.

It pierces through the long-sleeved shirt, just above my ribs. The pain flows through me, but it’s easy to ignore it when my life is at stake. The blood drips down my side, coating the shirt. I can tell that the bullet isn’t in me, thankfully, which will make the recovery quicker.

I don’t wait. Instead, I aim the gun and start firing bullets as I dash toward them, mud bouncing off my feet. Rain of bullets follows from both sides, and more of their people emerge from the shadows.

Fuck.

They planned to ambush us.

Thank God Aria didn’t come here. There’s no way she would’ve survived it. As the thought briefly enters my mind, my body starts boiling with rage. Everything I am feeling I put into the shots I’m firing, trying to avoid stray bullets and hitting the targets.

A few of them drop to the ground, and I don’t have the time to check if they’re alive or dead. Instead, I continue running through the park, taking out as many as I possibly can.

Across the park is Arlo, seemingly already done with his batch. He stacked up the bodies on top of each other, then plopped himself on top of it. Even from a distance, I see the wide grin on his face and that annoying tooth gem shining under the moonlight.

Motherfucker will never let me live this one down.

A loud groan comes from me, and I stop playing around. I hit one man after the other, another bullet piercing through the side of my arm. I flinch, then kill the motherfucker. He had good aim, I’ll give him that.

Then, the fun’s over.

I stop in my tracks, trying to regulate my breathing. My eyes close, and I tuck the gun away, then give myself a moment. I’m not sure what was supposed to happen here — it certainly wasn’t this. Hence, it’s all too fucking weird.

“Arlo,’’ I called, and the bastard hops off the dead bodies, strolling casually toward me. “Call the clean-up crew, and make sure the camera footage is wiped out.’’

“Done already,’’ he nods. “Are you alright? Are you going to die on me?”

The urge to hit the bastard almost wins, but I manage to pull myself together. “Fuck off. I’m fine.’’

Arlo hums, amusement evident in his expression.

His phone buzzes, and his brow lifts. He picks up the call and puts it on speaker, stepping closer to me so I’d be able to hear it clearly.

“What is it, butterfly?”

“I just went to the bathroom and…’’

The panic in Blair’s voice sends me over the edge of uneasiness. Something’s wrong; I feel it in my bones. My shoulders tense, and the air around Arlo and me thickens, his expression mirroring mine — fear hidden well behind his eyes.

“What happened?”

“She’s gone,’’ Blair admits through a whisper. “Aria… left.’’