Page 7 of Under Your Scars

“I swear on my life, I didn’t tell anyone you were here.”

“Where’s all that bravery now, huh?”

He leans over me as if he’s considering breaking my neck. Quick, easy, painless. That’s how I would want to go anyways. His eyes flicker to the counter behind me and I shiver as his arm brushes past mine to reach around me. He rubs over my access card to the Reeves Enterprises building with a gloved hand.

“You work at Reeves Enterprises?”

“Yes,” I say breathlessly.

His head snaps to me. “Don’t tell strangers so much about yourself.”

“You asked!”As if the card wasn’t already a dead giveaway.

“Do you tell every person you’ve ever met where you work?”

I don’t have an answer for that. Considering he murders people on a regular basis, he’s the last person I should be telling about my life. He slinks back to my bed and sits on it with a heavy sigh and so much force it scratches across the floor. He manspreads on the mattress like he owns it, and I cross my arms over my chest.

He looks up at me and hasthe nervetowinkat me from behind his stupid little mask. I run my fingers through my hair and look down at myself and cringe. I had forgotten I had his blood all over my clothes and I’m suddenly itching to take a shower. I’m not stupid enough to put myself in that kind of position though. Naked with a serial killer on the other side of the door? No thanks.

“Why do you do it?” I ask, the words spilling out of me faster than I can put a filter on them. His predatory gaze flickers to me and there’s something vulnerable in his expression that I can’t quite describe.

“I like it.”

I don’t know why I expected his answer to be something profound, but even murderers have a story. I want to know his. “Why?”

He scoffs. “If you’re expecting me to tell you some sob story to justify what I do, don’t.”

I tilt my head to the side slightly, trying to read him—to understand his intentions behind what he does. “Someone you love was killed.” I don’t expect him to confirm or deny my observation, but something in the way he stiffens tells me I’m right.

He cracks his neck. “Doesn’t matter why I do it.”

“If you hadn’t been there the other night those men would have gang raped me and left me to die in that alley. Is it bad to admit that I don’t feel guilt over their deaths?”

“No. You did what anyone in your situation would have done. You called for help. I made the choice to kill them, and I’m the one who has to live with it. You have nothing to feel guilty for.”

“Doyoufeel guilty?”

“No,” he answers, almost scoffing when he does as if he can’t believe I’d ask such a stupid question. I stiffen up as I remind myself that he’s not my friend and even though he saved me last night, he’s not a hero.

I can’t meet his gaze, so I keep my attention on my hands wrapped in my sweater. It’s quiet for a long time, so long that my feet begin to ache from standing. His muffled voice cuts through the silence.

“Do you like working at Reeves Enterprises?”

I perk up at his question and narrow my eyes, resisting the urge to tell himI shouldn’t talk to strangers.After a moment of trying to hold his gaze, I lose our staring contest.

“It’s a foot in the door. It’s better than a lot of jobs here.” I glance at my JD hanging on my wall. “My boss Neil is awful, but I want to be a lawyer, and working for him will look good on my résumé.”

“NeilHayden?” The Silencer asks, and my blood instantly runs cold when he says that name, because he knows exactly who I’m talking about. “What does he do that’s so awful?”

“Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Why?” I ask, and he stands up slowly. Pushing off his thighs with his fists, he takes a large step towards me. My stomach flips, and I cower further into the wall, quickly letting an answer escape my chest before he comes any closer. “He just does everything in his power to make me feel small and useless. That’s it. It’s really not a big deal.”

He leans closer to me, lifting a gloved finger to lightly touch my chin. “Everything that happens to you is a big deal. Say the word, and I’ll take care of him.”

“No! God, what is wrong with you? Neil Hayden being a dickhead isn’t grounds for murder.”