Page 61

MARISELA

I didn’t have to look over to know that he was sleeping.

Knocked-out by an orgasm-induced coma I didn’t have the luxury of having myself.

I didn’t have to look because I could hear him.

The slow, even breaths that had his chest lifting and falling in rhythm with his exhale.

The thin sheet he had wrapped around his torso doing the same.

I could feel him too. The eerie stillness that had his arm finally slipping off my hip and drifting to his side. The way his body heat radiated off him and warmed my exposed skin.

It all seemed so… intimate. Except it wasn’t.

I was never more alone than I was right now. Contemplating who I hated the most, the man beside me or his brother, at the same time I realized I would never escape either of them. Not unless I put an end to this for good.

I inched myself to one side of the mattress, draping my legs over the edge so that I was standing.

Then I crept across the room, silently brushing the pads of my feet along the carpet until I stepped on something sharp.

The needle Adrian had brought with him. I didn’t know what was in it.

Just that it was slightly cloudy and was probably meant to incapacitate me.

I could leave now. Take whatever was in his duffle bag, pray that it included some cash, and not look back. But the truth was, I had nowhere to go. Nothing of my own. All I had was whatever was waiting for me at the other end of the aisle. Without the bargaining chip I’d been holding over his head.

It seemed as dumb as it felt. As hopeless as it was. I also refused to let it be either. Because I was too smart to be dumb. And too jaded to rely on hope anyway.

If my time at Briarwood taught me anything, it was that hope was for the people waiting around to be saved and I was tired of waiting. Especially when I could do the saving myself.

I carefully tugged on the zipper on the bag, scrunching my eyes each time it caught before reaching a hand inside.

My fingertips dancing across shiny metal that reflected off the moonlight.

Various knives and vials all lined up along the bottom of a psychopath’s toolbox.

I grabbed the biggest blade I could find and crept back over to the bed.

The syringe in one hand and a knife in the other.

He looked so peaceful. So proud of himself. So smug. All it would take was one quick jab. Aimed at the middle of his chest and slightly to the left. And he wouldn’t be so smug anymore, now would he?

But something held me back from being able to do it. I didn’t want him dead. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted to take from him like he’d taken from me. I wanted him to never be able to get it back again either.

My glare flicked down, over to where his semi-hard cock was sticking to his thigh.

It would be easy enough to sever it. Just muscle and tissue.

No bones to saw through. I considered it for longer than I’d like to admit, dismissing the idea when I realized it was the one part of him I could always control.

The one part of him he couldn’t. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have left himself in such a vulnerable state right now.

Before I could think better of it, I pressed the syringe to the largest vein in Adrian’s neck and pushed my thumb down on the other end as I forced the fluids out the top.

His eyes shot open, his brows knitting together and his mouth parting on a silent gasp that lasted a few seconds. And then nothing. No sound. No screaming. No fighting. His lids dropping closed and his expression deathly still.

I flicked on the light, swiped up the blade I’d left on the nightstand, and poked Adrian with the tip.

Waiting a few seconds before I poked him again.

He didn’t move, even when I pushed down so hard blood began pooling on the surface of his skin.

Even when I tugged off the sock of his left foot, wrapped a hand around his pinkie toe, and began sawing through flesh.

And yellow meat. Having to adjust my aim when I hit solid bone instead of a break in the joint .

It was more difficult than filleting a fish, more complex than deboning a steak. It was also much more satisfying.

I held the chunk of human tissue up to the light, blood dripping down my fingers, my wrist and forearm. Curling around the bend in my elbow before splattering onto my bare feet. And grinned. It was like collecting the prize at the bottom of the box after weeks of eating the same bland cereal.

I glanced back towards the bed, taking my little trophy with me as I made my way into the en-suite bathroom.

I didn’t know how long Adrian would be out for.

Especially if that needle was meant for me.

We weren’t exactly the same body weight.

Which meant I had to be quick. I didn’t have time to cover up my tracks, only to rinse off and head downstairs to meet up with the rest of the bridal party.

It was my wedding day after all. I had to look picture-perfect, especially if I was planning on convincing my new husband that I was still a virgin.

I changed into a pair of shorts and a tank top before shoving my arms through the sleeves of my silky bridal robe, securing the tie around my waist with a loud huff.

What I really needed was a shower but this was as good as it was gonna get.

My hair piled high on my head in a loose bun and my skin reeking like another man.

I sprayed enough perfume on my body to have myself smelling like a cheap whore and took one last glance over my shoulder at the figure on the bed.

Then I clicked the door closed without ever looking back again.