Page 29 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats (Till Death Do Us Part #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Atticus

I move quickly, my heart threatening to pound right out of my chest. I did not look at the layout of this house prior to coming here because I hadn’t anticipated having to go inside.

Stupid, Atticus. You’re getting messy.

The back door is closed when I reach it but not locked. I quickly head inside, closing it behind me and stopping a moment to look around.

Even without knowing the layout of the house, it should be simple to figure out. A lot of the houses in this area are similar. The back door leads into the kitchen almost always, and it’s no different this time.

The kitchen is the width of the house with two doors on the far wall: one on the left and one on the right, with the fridge and a small counter between.

I don’t know what either door leads to, nor do I know which she took.

All I can do is go off instinct, and so I choose the one on the left because it’s further away.

My gut has never failed me before; don’t fail me tonight.

The moment I step through the doorway, a dark shadow lunges for me. I hold my arm up in defense, and there’s a sharp searing pain on my cheek so I jerk backwards, holding both arms up. A gasp echoes through the house, along with the thud that follows.

“Atticus?” is whispered into the dark.

My hand comes up to touch my cheek. Wet . And it burns.

The scent of blood hits my nose as I turn to face where she stands, hidden in the darkened corner like a ghost.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, even though I know exactly what she’s doing here.

“Business.”

I stare at her, unable to see her due to the darkness, but wanting to. Needing to.

“It’s not safe here. You need to come with me.”

“What do you mean it’s not safe?” she snaps.

I glance down the hall, wondering if the person who lives here is home.

“He’s not here,” she says, knowing exactly what I’m thinking.

“Good. Then we can get out safely. Come on.” I grab her arm and tug, but she shoves me off.

“Don’t touch me, Atticus. Tell me why you’re here.”

“I will tell you why I’m here when we get out of this fucking house,” I growl, reaching for her again. I’m desperate for her to come with me, so see her face, to make sure she’s still the same. I need to know she’s okay.

She dives under my arm, and I spin to face her, expecting her to run. She’s stopped about four feet from me, the moonlight flooding through the window and illuminating her face enough to know she’s still beautiful.

“Don’t do this, Violet. Please, come with me.”

“No,” she says. “I need to do this.”

“You’re going to get caught.”

“I’m fine,” she demands, shoving her hands into her sweatshirt pocket.

I hate how dark it is in here, how most of what I see of her is filled in by memories.

“No, Violet. You’re not. If I found you, that means the cops will too. Come with me.”

“No,” she growls.

I step forward and she dodges my reach, but I calculated her trying to escape so I’m already going that way. I grab her up and toss her over my shoulder.

“Put me down or I will stab you!” she hisses.

“You will not,” I say as I make my way through the kitchen and out the back door.

Violet kicks and punches my back all the way to the car, making the journey not easy. I have to hoist her up a few times, and by the time we reach my car, my arms are burning from the workout. I open the back door, shove her in, then jump in after her.

She’s huffing as she rights herself, yanking her hood off and glaring at me.

The interior light is on and I finally get a good look. She looks exactly the same, only a bit older. Her skin is fair and soft. Her hair is a light shade of violet. Her crystal blue eyes are so light you have to really stare to see the color.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she snaps.

“Why are you angry with me?” I ask, not understanding this at all.

I should be the one angry with her. She’s the one who left me. She left me.

“I’ve been after this guy for weeks. I finally get in and you pull me out,” she argues, gesturing toward the house.

“This isn’t safe.”

“No shit,” she says with a laugh.

My eyes narrow and all I can do is stare at her.

She looks the same. Sounds the same. But… she is not the same. She’s hardened. Callous. Cold. There is no warmth left to her eyes.

“What happened to you?” I ask softly.

She grits her teeth and looks away, tears stinging her eyes. Violet always was emotional. Too emotional. And these killings show that.

“Come home with me,” I say. “Let me help you.”

She huffs out a bitter laugh, wiping her eyes. “Your girlfriend won’t like that.”

“How do you know I have a girlfriend?” I ask quickly.

Violet bites on the inside of her cheek but still doesn’t look at me.

“Violet,” I grit out. “Tell me how you know about Lilah.”

Crossing her arms, she leans back against the seat.

“Just take me to your house,” she mutters.

I blink a few times, waiting to see if she says something else.

She doesn’t. So I get out of the car, only to get into the driver’s seat.

Before starting up the car, I watch her in the mirror for a long moment.

When she doesn’t bolt, I start the car and bring us to my house.

Violet lets herself out of the car and follows me through the garage and to the door as if she’s been here a thousand times before.

I brought her here once, years ago, but she never came inside.

We didn’t make it past the gate at the bottom of the driveway.

Flicking the lights on, I say, “Take a seat.” I gesture to the dining table. “I’ll be right back.”

Violet does as she’s told, but before I can take two steps, Lilah rounds the corner with a big smile on her face—and nothing on her body.

“You’re back!” she says with a big grin.

“Well, now I see why she’s your girlfriend,” Violet mutters from behind me, smirking at Lilah as if she’s interested.

Lilah frowns, taking a step to the side to see where the voice came from, and her eyes widen when she spots Violet.

“Atty… what is going on? Why are you bleeding?” she says, her eyes still on Violet, and not at all caring that she’s naked.

“Let’s go, Kitten. We’ll talk upstairs.”

I put my arm around her shoulder, but she shoves me off, almost like it’s only now hitting her that someone else is here.

“Who is that?” she says to me, but then quickly adds, “Who are you?” to Violet.

“Boyfriend didn’t tell you?” she asks with a smile. “I’m here for the threesome.”

“Violet, knock it off,” I growl.

Lilah raises an eyebrow at me, but I guide her toward the stares with my hands on her shoulders.

“You’re hotter than I thought you’d be!” Violet calls out as we leave the kitchen and go toward the stairs.

“What is going on?” Lilah demands once we’re in the bedroom. “You leave me in the middle of the night to pick up some girl?”

“It’s Violet,” I say quickly.

Her eyes widen and her jaw drops. Though I expected that to help the situation, she looks more confused. Maybe slightly angry?

“How did you find her?”

“Just… ran into her.”

“In the middle of the night?” she snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. I try my hardest not to stare at her tits and how good they look.

“I did some digging, found a guy she may go after, and went there. She was there.”

Lilah nods slowly. “And you’re just going to keep her too?” Her voice is quiet, sad.

I don’t like the way it makes me feel. Gross, like that time I was sick with strep throat and didn’t want to get out of bed.

“This is nothing like what happened with you,” I tell her, but she looks at me like she doesn’t believe me. “Things with Violet and I are not like you and me.”

“How am I supposed to know that?” Her bottom lip trembles, and her eyes fill with tears.

“Because I’m telling you,” I say seriously, staring into her eyes. “This is different, Kitten.” I pull here against my chest, keeping her wrapped in my arms.

She sniffles and wipes her eyes. “What happened to your face?”

Oh, right. I forgot about that.

“Get dressed. We can talk to her together.”

She hesitates a moment, but eventually does what I say.

I head into the bathroom to look at my face.

The cut looks worse than it is. What makes it look awful is the dried up blood that dried dripping down my cheek.

It isn’t deep enough to need stitches, so I clean it up and put a few pieces of tape on it.

Then we head downstairs, where Violet is digging around in my fridge.

“You have no food,” she complains, closing the door and turning to face me.

“This isn’t a grocery store,” Lilah says defensively.

Violet’s brows shoot up and she turns her attention on me. “Feisty, huh?”

“You need to stop with the attitude,” I tell her.

“I don’t need to do anything, Atticus. I don’t even want to be here.”

“Feel free to leave,” Lilah comments.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Violet says, holding my gaze. Testing me.

She takes one step toward the door before I shout, “Sit the fuck down.”

“Geesh, okay,” she mutters, moving to the table and sitting.

“You too,” I tell Lilah, harsher than I’d have liked.

She frowns but walks to the table with her head down, sitting a few spots away from Violet. I move to the opposite side of the table so I can see them both clearly.

As I stare at them, Lilah sad and Violet looking for a fight, all I can do is shake my head.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?