Page 24

Selene

My legs are still shaking as I step out of the motel bathroom, my body thrumming with the sick, electric energy of being fucked over a dying body. Some part of me wanted to stay dirty and bathe in it while fucking myself on my fingers in the shower, recreating the beautiful scene my mysterious stalker gave me.

Just the fantasy of him filling me again, grinding me into the gore until I’m nothing but his, makes me shudder. Dante fucks me like he owns me but that man fucked me like he wanted to break me, and for a moment, I wanted it, wanted to show him the jagged, broken parts of me and see what he’d do.

Then reality crashed in. I let some unknown fucker screw me while I carved out the mayor’s son’s heart. Got my hammer back, my knife too, but he’s got a picture now of me bloody and ruined, and no clue where that’ll end up. And yet, still , like a fucking weirdo, I’m running my fingers along the small cut across my cheek, my pussy throbbing and yelling for me.

My phone vibrates on the table by the bathroom, a tight smile forming on my lips.

Gonna dream about you, Sparrow.

And now I’m torn between wanting to hunt him down and wanting to spread my legs for him again.

I shove the phone into my back pocket, the black clothing concealing every inch of skin, my hair pinned on top of my head and hidden beneath my hoodie. The cleanup is just as important as the rest of this because leaving the wrong clue will lead right back to me. Unfortunately, no matter how good I am, Harley will eventually make the connections.

I’ll play innocent, bat my lashes, and lie through my teeth until I can’t, then I’ll disappear and become someone new. Wrapping Philip in the no-drip bedding was the perfect option and something I should have done with the last guy. No one’ll suspect Philip died here while I was getting fucked, his heart smashed in that cute banana jar on the dresser, the glass streaked red because I squeezed it too hard when my mysterious stranger mercilessly pounded me into the mattress.

My gaze trails over to the jar, the heart a mangled lump, and I sigh, hating that I couldn’t protect the organ the way I wanted to. Even so, I quickly check the room again, making sure everything is clean and packed, that there are no stray blood marks that will get me caught. It’s not perfect, it’ll never be perfect but my blacklight doesn’t turn up anything specific. Well done, bitch. Should have applied all this hard work to medical school.

I should have but this is way more rewarding. Once Philip is fully wrapped up, I stuff him into the empty duffle bag I brought in before wondering how the fuck I’m supposed to lug him downstairs. There’s no cameras to worry about but a person sized duffle bag will stand out. Glancing at the window, my lips twitch into a deviant smile, a reckless thought sparking in my head. “Oh, I so shouldn’t do that,” I murmur, but the idea’s too good.

I lug the duffle to the window and shove it open, before leaning over the windowsill to check what I’d be hurling this body into. There’s just a large dirt patch and I know for a fact that there’s only a hallway beneath my room which means no windows to see this duffle bag falling through the air.

Perfection. I shove the body out the window, a cackle escaping me as I then shut the window and grab my bag to ditch this place completely.

There’s no good place to drop Philip, nothing that feels right but if I don’t dump him soon, the mysterious caller will have my ass. I just need something symbolic enough and that’s when I see a park bench as I turn down yet another road in some of the darkest parts of Ashthorne. God, Philip didn’t deserve to go out this way but I don’t have any other choices. It’s 15 minutes to midnight.

I pull up a few feet away, taking a cursory look for cameras and passerby. Nothing comes up so I rush out of the car and into the backseat, undoing the bag and the bedding before carrying this man onto the bench. I lay him down, making it seem like he had died out here, alone and afraid. When he’s perched just right, I grab his phone from the passenger seat and quickly delete all traces of me and my texts.

I chuckle, realizing that I wasn’t the only one he was texting, a lovely message sent to someone named Helena just as we left the restaurant. He said he’d meet her at the bar around midnight which means I still have a few moments of wiggle room. Chewing on my lip as I search for the best response, I find some horrid excuse and tell her that Philip’s schedule is free Saturday evening. Then I slip his phone into his pocket and stare down at the man for a little longer.

“I’m so sorry, Philip,” I murmur, a flicker of guilt twisting in my chest. “You weren’t on my list.”

I’m not sure why I do it but I reach toward his chest, running my gloved fingers through the blood still pooling there and then write out one little phrase.

I’m sorry.

It’s not my style but it fits this moment and it’ll be a curveball for Harley and the Reaper investigation.

I stay there for a few more minutes before climbing back into my car and discarding the gloves, taking off onto the road to get home and hopefully a good night’s sleep. Unfortunately, my phone’s already ringing five minutes later, my mysterious caller’s name popping up on the dashboard. The problem is that he’s calling my personal cellphone and not the burner.

He knows too much, Selene.

“I know that,” I growl out before pressing answer. “What?”

A low chuckle filters through the earpiece, mocking me. “Doe, that was such a pretty kill but feeling remorse afterward? Not really your style.”

I should have scanned better to see if I could find the man in the shadows because I have no idea how he’s always so close to me. “He wasn’t my choice to kill,” I snap back. “But he’s dead now and everyone’ll mourn him. Now what?”

“Well, now it’s my turn to play,” he muses. “Go home, clean up your last mess. I bet it’s starting to stink in there and I’m gonna enjoy myself. It’s Friday! Live a little .”

“I was living just fucking fine until you,” I hiss.

“Oh, I know. I much prefer you in lingerie than all this black clothing.”

“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”

“And I thought you liked that. After your other mysterious friend came to your room and fucked the shit out of you. Though, if I had my way, it would’ve been me behind you.”

My gaze darts to the rearview mirror and then out the windows. “Where the fuck are you? Why are you watching me?”

“I told you. I was getting bored and what’s more fun than making a queen bow? Now go home, take that shower I know you want to and settle in. Wait for my present. It’s gonna be an amazing one.”

The line goes dead which is just par for the course as I speed home, kicking off my shoes the moment I step inside and shedding the rest of the clothing so I can grab a shower. The man on the phone wasn’t wrong; that feeling of the heated water cascading over my shoulders is everything after a kill. Well, a good whiskey and a hard fuck, too.

I lose myself in my routine, throwing the clothes in the wash and then starting in on the guest bedroom, doing my best to clean up any evidence of my nighttime activities. I even manage to push Philip’s kill and that glorious fuck out of my mind long enough to focus and order a new mattress. All that concentration is shattered when a sharp knock hits my front door.

“Better not be Dante,” I mutter, stalking into the living room. I’ve only got a robe on, not expecting company but whoever is at the door can deal with me like this. I lean up on my tip toes and look through the peephole, groaning when there’s a very drunk Harley standing on the other side. “What the fuck is he doing here?”