Page 50 of Rule the Night (Blackwell Butchers #1)

MAEVE

I could barely breathe by the time I got to my room. I’d cried constantly in the weeks after June’s murder, but something had happened to me in the aftermath, when the details of Chris’s movements before and after he’d killed her had come out.

The media had described his premeditation as “chilling,” recounting how he’d planned to kill June after weeks of arguing about his desire for her to quit her job at the animal shelter (June had loved animals), her pushback against his belief that she should be home in their apartment, making meals and keeping house.

And the more I’d learned — about Chris and about his obsession with Ethan Todd — the harder my heart had become.

My tears had shut off and all the inner shame and guilt I’d felt about not picking up June’s call that day had become focused on making Ethan Todd, the only person responsible for her murder who still hadn’t paid a price, finally pay.

It had been a relief. After weeks of blaming myself, I’d been able to hide my guilt under the hot coals of hatred I fanned for Ethan Todd.

But now, those coals had been swept away and I was right back where I started: knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that despite all the things that had contributed to Chris’ murder of my sister, I was the one who could have saved her but hadn’t.

I locked my bedroom door, took off my jacket, and set Rose on the nightstand. Then I fell onto my bed, curling into a ball as I cried into my pillow. Sobs wracked my body, and I gasped as I tried to inhale enough oxygen even as part of me didn’t want to keep breathing without June.

I was glad the Butchers didn’t come after me. It was bad enough that I’d fallen apart in front of them, bad enough that Remy had come to the city to bring me home like a wayward child.

I just wanted to be left alone, preferably forever.

I didn’t know how much time had passed when I heard June’s voice.

Pull it together, M. It’s okay.

It’s not okay, I thought.

But it will be.

My sobs subsided, the storm of my breakdown clearing enough to illuminate my humiliation.

I hated that I’d told the Butchers everything. Hated that they knew what I’d done to June, that they knew how much it devastated me. I felt exposed, naked in the worst of ways, my pain laid bare for the three men I still didn’t trust.

I took a deep breath. I felt depleted, utterly exhausted, not just from the events of the day but from the events of the past eighteen months. That was the problem with letting myself feel all the things about June: as long as I was moving, working toward justice for her, I was okay.

But once I stopped, once I let myself start thinking about all I’d lost — all my parents and Simon and Olivia had lost — I felt like I wanted to shut out the lights and sleep forever.

You always were a drama queen.

I laughed through my tears. “Shut up, June. Just shut up.”