Page 275 of Satan's Spawn

I’m not having it, though, neither is Levi.

I thrash in the officer’s arms as he lunges for the one holding Rebecca, and almost make it before getting tackled by another cop.

“Crayton Shaw, you’re being brought in for questioning regarding the murder of Felix Crimson,” the asshole behind me states, then reads me my rights.

My jaw stays tight, knowing anything I say can fuck me right up the ass.

Rebecca on the other hand, she’s spewing obscenities at each and every one of them.

Along with shouting my innocence.

Innocent of this crime, yes. But that doesn’t matter when you have a series of violent notches under your belt. Most of which the police don’t even know about.

“Crayton…” Rebecca whimpers my name as her heightened emotions die down. She’s no longer being held back, but held up by the officer.

There’s an ache in that broken organ inside my chest, signaling the first real sign of life in a very long time. It results in years of unshed tears to threaten my eyes.

I’m going to lose the perfect girl I only just won.

Rebecca collapses, dead weight in the cops arms, searing me open from the inside out.

I glance over at her sad, dispirited eyes, but can barely even face them.

“I’m sorry, Little Ghost,” I tell her through a defeated exhale. “But I told you no picket fences.”

* * *

“You gotta work with us, Crayton.”Good cop leans back in his chair with crossed arms. “Give a little, get a little. We can get you a sweet deal with the D.A., maybe even lower your sentence.

What he’s saying is bullshit because first degree murder charges have no wiggle room.

You’re fucked or you’re not.

“Again, I want my fucking lawyer.”

“We can’t help you once he gets here,” he chimes back.

I bellow out a derisive ‘ha’. “You assholes won’t help me regardless—you’ve seen my rap sheet, so cut the bullshit.”

“Exactly, and all evidence points to you.” Bad cop hisses, pointing a finger at me. “Enough with the kid gloves. Everyone on campus knows you had an axe to grind with Crimson. Your school ID was recovered on the scene drenched in blood, for fuck’s sake. Not to mention the photos of your assault on the deceased and the untimely death letter he had written with your name all over it, which just so happened to mention theotherfriendly assault where you broke his jaw and back.” He slams a palm against the table. “So you can sit around all stoic waiting for Daddy to come to your rescue, but evenheknows you’re up shit’s creek.”

An actual laugh skids past my lips. “A letter? Mysterious photos? An ID I haven’t seen since freshman year? And a random attack with no proof or charges placed? How fucking convenient.”

He continues to try and gauge the implication.

“You forget forensics has your knife under the scope right now. And from what I understand the size of the stab wounds are pretty close to the size of the blade.”

I whistle, looking around the room as the rant continues. “How long before we bring in your friends? Teachers?” He pauses with a smirk. “Maybe even that pretty girlfriend of yours?”

Shooting out of the chair, I send it skidding behind me. “Rebecca’s got nothing to do with this.” The cuffs are secured to the table, but I yank them anyway, and like a dragon breathing fire, I shout, “Nothing!”

Bad cop presses his hands on the table, leaning closer to whisper, “Now there’s the temper I heard so much about.”

I’m tugging on the cuffs again when the door swings open with a whoosh, Archer’s brother Micah strolling confidently inside.

Huh. Good guy actually came through for the bad guy.

I’d be fitting myself for an orange jumpsuit right now if Micah wasn’t the most successful defense attorney in New York City.