Page 44 of Velvet Thorns
“Alright, Brandon. That’s enough,” I say smoothly, stepping in. “Why don’t you take a walk? Get some air. When you’re back, we’ll find a couple of girls worth our time. Let me calm Fiona down first, yeah?”
He fist-bumps me—fucking fist-bumps me, like we’re in on some joke together, and I want to flay the skin from my own hand.
He steps out, and Fiona has already vanished. I follow him, moving fast, grabbing Brandon and slamming him so hard that his head cracks against the wall, leaving a fresh dent. His hands fly up in shock, fumbling for balance, but I’ve already got a fist twisted in his collar, dragging him down the hallway like the pathetic coward he is.
My elbow crashes into his jaw, snapping his head sideways, and by the time he’s blinking away the stars, I’ve got a length of cord in my hand—taken from the curtain rigging upstairs.
I loop it around his throat and pull. Not enough to kill him. Just enough to steal the oxygen from his blood and blur the edges of his world.
He thrashes against me, gargling on spit and terror, and I whisper low in his ear. The words are soft, venomous, and completely meaningless to him. No names, no confessions. Just pure rage spoken in static.
“This is for what you did to her.” I pull him deeper into the shadows. “For every bit of pain you put her through.”
The fire he set to her hair—the one that could’ve killed her.
His eyes roll, and his pupils dilate, his kicks beginning to weaken. This is the edge I want, the one where he hovers somewhere between consciousness and collapse. I hold him in that space, where his body is too weak to fight, but his mind is still alive enough to register every second of what’s happening to him.
I drive the heel of my palm into his gut, right beneath his ribs, knocking the wind out of him. Another blow comes next—angled into his side, straight for the kidneys, the kind of hit that guarantees he’ll be pissing blood for days.
Crouching beside him, I retrieve the small vial from my jacket.Chloroform—pharmaceutical grade. It took weeks to find the real kind and not some cheap shit off the internet.
I soak a cloth and press it to his face.
He’s too tired to fight, and unconsciousness claims him in less than thirty seconds.
“She was mine,” I murmur, watching his eyes glaze over. “And because of you, she’s gone.”
When he goes still, I sit there for a moment, staring at the mess I made.
He’s out cold.
He’s breathing, unconscious but alive. And as much as this worthless bastard deserves to feed the worms, I can’t stomach the thought of Shannen looking at me like I’m a monster if she ever finds out I killed for her again.
I reach for Brandon’s phone, wipe it clean of texts, clear his call log, and close out every app before pressing it back into his limp fingers and dragging his hand across the screen, painting it with his DNA.
The story writes itself: Some drunk asshole trips over his own feet and eats the wall.
No witnesses. No memory. No proof I was ever here.
Before I leave, I crouch down beside him once more and whisper in his ear.
“Every breath you take after this is because I let you. Remember that, even if you don’t remember me.”
And then I vanish.
By the time someone finds him, he’ll be bruised, concussed, bleeding, and clueless. A blackout drunk with a story no one will bother to question.
My phone buzzes, lighting up with the alert that Shannen's almost at the other hotel. Perfect.
I’ll be there soon, pretty girl.
When she books her flight, I’ll already be three steps ahead with the seat right next to hers. I’ll be on the same plane, in the same air, close enough to touch her and inhale her skin. No more lurking in the dark. No more hiding behind screens and distance. From now on, I’ll be her shadow in the daylight, her constant companion.
She’ll never be alone again. Not even when she thinks she is.
We’re bound by something darker than love, something stronger than death, and if the world ends tomorrow, I’ll die with her name on my lips.
And whatever comes after, whether it’s fire or oblivion or whatever version of the afterlife I’ve got to look forward to, I’ll still be looking for her because letting her go was never part of the story.
To Be Continued…