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CHAPTER NINETY-TWO

THE SKY WAS bleeding pink when I crossed the state line.

One hand on the wheel, one on the fresh cup of gas station coffee. No cream, no sugar—just bitter enough to keep me awake.

The road stretched out in front of me like a lifeline.

I didn’t look back.

Didn’t need to.

I’d already done what needed doing.

The burner phone sat in the passenger seat, screen cracked from where I’d dropped it in my hurry. The number was still fresh in my mind. The call had lasted less than ten seconds.

“You need to check the property out near Hollow Creek. Red barn, concrete foundation. You’ll hear the screams if you’re close enough.”

Click.

Just long enough to maybe save their lives.

Not because I wanted to.

Because I had to.

Jason… Jason wasn’t what I thought. He was supposed to be angry, sure. Dangerous, maybe. But controllable. Predictable.

He wasn’t.

He was death with a heartbeat.

And once I saw the way he looked at me—like I was already dead—I knew I had to make my move. Quiet. Fast. Smart.

So I did what I do best. Manipulation. I wasn’t crying.

Why would I cry?

I got what I wanted.

Mystic and the whore were in chains.

Jason was too caught up in his final act of vengeance to notice I’d slipped away from the motel before sunrise. He’d asked where I was going. I said coffee. He didn’t even look at me.

Men were always easy when they were angry.

I pulled off onto an overlook. Sat in the lot for a few minutes with the engine running and the sun creeping over the edge of the trees.

Then I picked up the burner and tossed it out the window.

Tires peeled out onto the road.

I didn’t look back.

Because even I knew…

You can only dance with the devil for so long before the floor gives out.

And I wasn’t planning on dying for any of them.