Page 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

If I Killed Someone For You - Alec Benjamin

After Ronan told me to leave, I did. His eyes looked so…goddamn haunted, and it reached right into my gut and twisted. Hard. And suddenly, all I could see was the look on Greyson’s face right after I told him I liked him. The fear, the panic, and what I now know was despair.

It was there on Ronan’s face, too. So I left. I left so that it wouldn’t happen again. So that I wouldn’t drive him to…

I drop the cup I was washing, making a clatter. Fucking hell. How long have I been here? I look around, checking the hallway again. But Ronan couldn’t have slipped by me. I zoned out, but not that bad.

Tilting my head back, I suck in a breath. I shouldn’t have untied him.

I move around for a bit, not really doing anything. I keep staring at the bowl of rings on the counter. Ronan has hated each one I’ve picked so far. Clearly, I just haven’t found his taste.

I grab a fidget ring with moissanite diamonds. It’s a spinny ring with a thick band and glittery gears. He’ll probably hate it, but if he can get over the prettiness of it, the fidget feature will be nice for him.

I move back to the room. Ronan is passed out, snoring lightly, mouth slightly open. Even in sleep, his whole body looks tense.

I slip the ring on his ring finger, then stand there for a second.

I shouldn’t be doing this. It just makes things worse. But I can’t help myself. He’d like it if he’d just get over himself.

Ronan moans, making me jump. His eyebrows are drawn down into a frown, and I think he’s gonna sit up, but he doesn’t. He thrashes to his other side, another moan breaking free.

He’s having a nightmare.

My heart squeezes so hard it physically hurts. Greyson used to get nightmares, too. I always just held him through them. He never seemed to want to tell me about them, and I never asked.

Why the hell did I never ask?

My phone buzzes in my pocket.

I frown as Ronan thrashes again. It feels like torture to watch him suffer. I shouldn’t watch him suffer. I should wake him up and demand he tell me what’s wrong.

But why? He’s not Greyson. And it won’t bring him back.

My chest aches . My phone buzzes two more times, and I snatch it out of my pocket, desperate for a distraction.

There’s a notification from my security system. Outside cameras 1, 2, and 3 have lost connection.

What the hell? Immediately, something feels off. Occasionally, they’ll all go out at the same time. Usually, the router goes out. But this time, all my indoor cameras are still working. It’s possible that the physical units malfunctioned, but all at the same time?

Not likely. Which means that we might be about to have company. My body rushes with adrenaline.

I lean down. “Ronan.”

He moans.

“Ronan,” I demand, louder, shaking him this time.

He sits straight up, panic written on his face. His eyes scan the room, not really seeing anything. He looks wild and terrified.

“Ronan,” I say again. “Can the cops hack security cameras?”

“What?” Ronan’s eyes focus on me, and for a second, there’s a raw vulnerability there that makes my heart squeeze. Then, he covers it up. “What are you talking about?”

“Can cops hack cameras?” If it’s the cops, then we’re already screwed. That would mean they were already in place, with my trailer surrounded. I feel the jitters running through my body.

“I mean, they can.” He looks around. “What’s going on?”

I debate telling him. I literally just untied him, and I’m not convinced he won’t still try to kill me the next time he gets his hands on anything that could be used as a weapon. I’m torn. I fucking want to tell him and get his help. But I doubt he’ll help me. In fact, he’ll probably serve me to them on a goddamn platter, just out of spite.

“Logan?” Ronan’s eyes narrow on me, and he stiffens. “Are the cops outside?”

I don’t answer, and Ronan jumps out of the bed, his body lined in tension. He grabs Buffalo, then snaps his gaze to me again. “How many of them?”

I clench my jaw. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” he hisses.

“No, they took out the security cameras,” I snap.

Ronan darts to the window in the bathroom. It’s still cracked from earlier, and he looks outside. His voice is low. “Nothing. Check the other side.”

I’m frozen. Checking the other side would mean leaving Ronan alone.

Ronan whips around. “Hurry up!”

I swallow. Fine. I have no choice. I dart to the other side of the trailer, checking out the windows there. I see nothing but empty fields all the way around the house. The only place I can’t see is past the big, empty house on the property. The cops would have to show up at some point. It’s not like it’s easy to hide cruisers out here. Darting to my closet, I snatch my gun from the safe I stashed it in. As I’m moving back to the front door, an explosion sounds from the back bedroom.

Christ. I crouch down as glass crashes to the ground. Two more of the same sounds happen.

“Ronan!” Darting to the kitchen, I find Ronan climbing down from the counter, a knife clutched in his hand.

“Get down,” I hiss, yanking him to his knees.

“What the fuck?”

But I’m already turning, aiming my gun at the back hallway. For a paralyzing few seconds, there’s nothing. Then, I see the smoke.

And that’s when the front door crashes open.

A massive dude with a mop of dark hair and a skull bandana pulled over his nose steps in the middle of the frame, acting like he’s impervious to bullets.

His gaze darts around the smokey space, and even with his mouth covered, I can tell he’s beaming like a fucking lunatic. He also looks fucking familiar .

Taking advantage of this dude’s complete lack of concern , I whirl, pointing my gun that way. I fire off a few rounds, but they’re rushed. Ronan pops up beside me, yanking me down behind the counter.

“Get down,” Ronan hisses. Smoke swirls around us as unhinged laughter fills the room. A few shots slam into the cabinets behind us, shattering pieces of wood down.

“Give me that.” Ronan grabs for my gun, but I yank it away. Instead, I pop over the edge and fire some more wild rounds to keep the guy back.

“I’m a better shot.” Ronan leans around the island, looking at the man. My eyes begin to burn from the smoke, and pieces of the cabinets rain down on us.

The second time I pop over the ledge, something hot catches me in the right arm, jerking me back. I hiss, immediately dropping down.

“Give it to me.” Ronan wrestles for the gun, and I let it go to keep him from shooting either of us. Then, he lays around the corner, shooting off round after round in a measured cadence.

There’s a shout, then Ronan cusses.

“What?” I’m coughing now. The smoke—gas—is heavy and unbearable.

“He disappeared!” Ronan darts around the island before I can stop him.

“Christ,” I scramble after him. I reach him at the front door, which is hanging off a hinge.

“Where did they go?”

“They?” I yank Ronan back from the open door.

“Someone was with him.” Ronan hacks, trying to catch his breath. “He had a friend. Some vampire-ass-looking dude with white hair dragged him away.” He hunches over.

“What? Get away from the door!” A fierce protectiveness washes over me, and I pull him back, grabbing for my gun again. He lets me, coughing so hard he stumbles.

Distantly, I hear the roar of a motor. They must have parked behind the trees on the other side of the big house. I watch them peel down the driveway.

“Fuckers!” I whirl, trying to find air that doesn’t sting, but it’s not to be found. Once the car is gone, I shove Ronan outside, then stumble after him, sucking clean breaths into my lungs.

Ronan struggles to pull in a breath. “Why did that first guy’s hoodie say: gayer than u ?”

What? My head is reeling. Those weren’t cops. Those weren’t goddamn cops, so who the hell were they?

A fiery pain burns in my arm, and I glance down. Oh, Christ. I’ve been hit.