by Anne Malcom
Orion imagined her brother would’ve taught her.
A pang of sharp and unbearable pain unexpectedly speared her heart. She almost cried out but swallowed the sound. She missed her brother with a pain that was physical.
She hated this fucking life.
Maddox was watching her. She knew this. And she also knew he was dissecting her with that stare. That cop stare.
He was expecting her to refuse, most likely. Hoping she would accept, for what reason? To quell more of that survivor’s guilt? Give himself some power over her? Watch over her for signs of addiction? Insanity?
He was good at looking at her, seeing things. Orion knew this because her skin rebelled every time his blue eyes fastened on her. Everything inside her tried to escape, to transform into something that wasn’t dark and ugly, to blossom into someone new.
If she said yes, there would be more of him looking. Seeing. It was too much of a risk to have Maddox this close with everything she was doing. Maddox was no longer the boy she’d kissed on the back porch of his parents’ house. He was a cop.
He was a cop who arrested monsters and saved victims.
She was not a victim. Not anymore.
Her goal was to become a monster.
“Okay,” she said, unsure who was speaking inside of her.
Was it the victim, the monster, or was it Ri? Who she’d been so certain was just another stain she left on the floor of that cell?
Fourteen
One Month Later
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on or do I have to become a detective?”
Orion looked up from where she was kneading dough. She was making blueberry lavender scones. She thought lavender was a fucking weird thing to put in a scone, but what did she know? She was ten years behind everybody else.
April was channel surfing on her new television. They’d decided after a couple glasses of wine—Orion was now quite partial to it—that the TV wasn’t big enough. Or fancy enough. Orion had bought the cheapest one on the market out of habit.
That same night they had also decided it was well past time Orion spend all the money that was burning a hole in her bank account.
The lawsuit had come through. It hadn’t been the long, tedious battle that Orion had expected, so she was waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone to jump out from behind a curtain and realize she was a Darby, shove her in a trailer, empty her bank account, and forget about her.
But then again, the other shoe had dropped ten years ago.
So, the legal stuff went off without a hitch since the publicity of the case had somehow remained at the top of the public conversation. The state of Missouri and the country itself could not afford to look like they were stiffing victims of the most horrific case of the century.
Someone had linked photos, hence the label of the most horrific case of the century. They had images of the devices. The things that were used when they were bad. The box and the mask and the chains. The stockade and the whips with fish hooks on the ends.
There were pictures of The Cell. Of the stains. The worn mattress and the burial pit out back.
It all looked so . . . fake to Orion. Otherworldly, despite the fact she dreamed of it every night and saw it all when she closed her eyes, so she knew all too well that it was real. But seeing it on the news, used like meat dangling in front of a rabid, starving audience, made it seem somehow different.
The world was commercializing their suffering. Maybe the more it looked like a movie, the less people would consider the reality that monsters lived among them and could snatch their daughters off the street. And when Jaclyn died, and her funeral and her death were fed to the masses, posts began circulating on the cesspool of social media, a place Orion avoided at all costs. Questions about some of the girls’ pasts. Some were prostitutes, they said. Some were “partiers” like Jaclyn. Some “deserved it.” Orion fought hard to avoid every bit of it, to focus her concentration on the mission at hand. On the monsters who used her.
Those same monsters who stained the mattress with their filth were still doing it, Orion had no doubt about that. Their party had been busted, but another party was just a drive away.
There was no way men like that, with appetites like that, could just stop. It was a business. That much had become clear to Orion when the same “customers” came again and again over the years. The same smells, taunts, and demands. It wasn’t just two fucked-up men taking girls off the street. It was a whole fucking system.
Orion planned on bringing it down, starting with an adored doctor.
The money would help. Revenge was great when you were bloodthirsty, but you needed ample finances to get away with it. Orion had learned the ins and outs of murder cases in the state of Missouri, what got the killers caught, what they did right, and what they did wrong. She knew that in order to get away with her scheme, in order to defeat this new world of DNA and high-tech cameras, she would have to be smart, she would have to thoroughly plan, and she’d need a shitload of money. Poor people didn’t get away with vengeance and murder. Poor people were put away, whether innocent or guilty, and nobody paid them any mind.
Luckily, Orion was no longer poor.
Their lawyer was not lying about his ability to earn his salary.
Five million dollars.
Each.
Orion couldn’t fathom that kind of money. She couldn’t spend it in ten lifetimes, which was what had been taken away from her.
April, on the other hand, would do quite well at spending all of it, since it was she who decided Orion’s apartment needed to be . . . Orion’s.
Not that Orion knew who the fuck she was.
April apparently was confident in that. So, Orion had done something uncharacteristic. She trusted the woman who used to be her best friend to tell her who she was, or who she should be.
As the packages arrived, Orion was starting to wonder if April knew her better than she knew herself.
If someone looked at her outwardly, if someone read her story in the newspaper, they’d think dark colors. Hard edges. Cold.
But April saw deeper than that, so there was warmth, earth tones, soft throws, cozy pillows, beautiful art. Vintage rugs.
Orion’s apartment quickly turned into a home. Sure, she had more than enough money to move from the complex to an impressive house with land, with space. April had said as much. But the mere thought of that scared Orion. She liked sharing a wall with a stranger. She liked the houses piled on top of each other, she liked that she was down the hall from where Jaclyn lived—where she used to live. Someone else had moved in quickly, all of her stuff gone like she never existed.
April didn’t push, since she’d already put in enough effort shoving herself into Orion’s life.
“What?” she asked, after losing herself in her thoughts.
April paused the TV, curled up in the plush white armchair that swallowed her small frame. “I mean, I’m not married to my job as a waitress mostly because the tips suck and I’m generally crap at it, but becoming a detective sounds like so much work and I wouldn’t have a chance at maintaining a good manicure. I’ll do it, of course, to get the scoop, but I’d rather not.”
Orion blinked at her, hands sticky. She’d forgotten April had asked her a question. “Huh?”
April smiled. She was enjoying this, teasing her. She was no longer walking on eggshells around Orion. No longer treating her like a victim or an unexploded land mine.
“I mean, what’s going on with you and Maddox? I know he’s teaching you how to drive. I know he takes you out to dinner. I know you saw a movie last week.” April jabbed a finger at her. “A fucking movie, Orion? I’ve begged you to go to the movies with me and you always say you aren’t ready!”
Orion hated that April had found that out. Had gotten the wrong impression. Or maybe the right one.
“I haven’t been ready, but he just makes me feel safe. He’s always looking out for me, and, I don’t know . . . there’s nothing go
ing on or anything like that,” Orion said as quickly and sharply as she could. She had been progressing with April, letting her into the apartment to watch TV every night, cooking for her, giving her free rein to decorate. That was big for Orion. “He just really wanted to see Swiss Army Man.”
“Ew, the one where Harry Potter plays Uncle Bernie?”
“Who’s Uncle Bernie?” Orion looked confused.
April raised her brow. “Listen, I may not be a detective, but I know bullshit when I hear it. A movie is a date, Orion.”
“Why the fuck do you care?” Orion snapped. “You hated the fact that we were . . . whatever we were back then. Before everything.”
April’s eyes softened, her smile disappearing. “Well a lot of things have changed.”
Orion looked down because she couldn’t hold on to her steely stare in front of April’s naked emotion.
“It’s okay, you know,” April said, quieter this time. “To want something good. To want romance. I may hate him sometimes, but Maddox . . . he’s a great fucking guy, Orion. And he has missed you. He’s always missed you. And it’s okay if you missed him too.”
Orion didn’t look up. “It’s not okay. You don’t know what I’ve been through. I’m never going to have good again in this life, April. And I’m sure as fuck not going to have romance.” There was no fight in her voice, merely resignation. “Romance is for living breathing humans. Not walking tragedies.”
“You’re right,” April said. “I don’t know what you went through. If I lived one hundred lifetimes, I will not ever know what you went through. There is no way I can even fathom it. Seeing the photos . . .” She trailed off, sucked in a breath. “To read the stories. It’s horrifying, Ri.”
Orion looked up even though she didn’t want to.
April’s eyes were full of tears, but that wasn’t what struck her. They were full of sorrow. Sorrow that showed her this woman carried around the weight of those ten years much more than Orion had expected. She cared for Orion more than she could fathom. She loved her and it was pain.
Loving Orion could only bring pain.
“This is not the life you should’ve had,” April said, teary-eyed. “You were meant to love Maddox. I was meant to fight with you over it. Act like the teenage brat that I was. Then I’d get over it, I’d open my eyes and see what you two had. Even then, it was something. I’d see it, and I’d be happy. You’d marry him. My parents wouldn’t approve at first, but they’d deal. And I’d be your bridesmaid. Maddox wouldn’t put on a badge and gun and walk out the door without a guarantee he’d walk in again. He’d work some boring nine to five just waiting anxiously every day to come home to you.”
She sucked in a breath. “Or maybe not. Maybe you’d have had a short-lived high school romance and it would’ve fizzled out. And that’s okay too. But I doubt it. Because there’s something there. Something that should’ve died in those ten years, Orion. It should have withered up and decayed inside you after what you went through. It should’ve died inside of him because he grew up and lived a different life than he should’ve.” She paused. “I know my brother. And I’m not going to lie to you. He hasn’t been chaste, pining over a lost teenage love. There’s been women, passing through in a blur. No one put down roots because somehow you were still all curled up inside him. And he never let them. He only wanted you. He only ever wanted you.”
Orion bit her lip until she tasted blood, anything to water down those words.
“I’m not going to pressure you,” April said gently. “I’m so thankful to have you back, to have you let me in. I’m not fourteen anymore. As much of a brat as I can be, I’m a good friend. Even though I haven’t had the chance to be in a while. I’ve got friends. Friends I drink with. Brunch with. Shop with. Surface friends. But you’re my family, Orion. I’m not going to push you, but I’m not going to lie either. I see you with Maddox. I see you fighting it because you don’t think you deserve it. But you do. You deserve everything this life has to offer. You deserve happiness. That’s all I’m saying.”
She didn’t give Orion a chance to reply, to argue, because she turned around, unpaused the TV, and started watching again like she hadn’t just torn open a wound Orion was pretending wasn’t still bleeding.
“You’re ready,” Maddox declared when they pulled up in her parking lot. He had been teaching her how to drive for over a month now. Sometimes they didn’t speak at all, beyond comments and corrections on Orion’s driving. Granted, there were few of those. There was no mention about the movie “date,” or the dinners, or the possibility of a future together. He didn’t treat her differently. Didn’t try to push her.
She’d taken to driving quickly. Not because she wasn’t afraid of it, because she was. A thin sheen of sweat pooled under her arms before Maddox even arrived for the lessons. Half of that was due to Maddox himself, of course, but it was also the mere act of going outside. Being on the road. Being in control of her life, Maddox’s life, and that of every car she passed.
If she wished, she could swerve into traffic. She could ruin cars, lives, so very simply. Everyone’s lives were really just one deranged person away from complete devastation.
She didn’t do that, of course.
It was a cruel and ugly need to ruin innocent people’s lives. But that was the difference between her and those Things—she didn’t hurt people who didn’t deserve it.
As it was, she wasn’t hurting anyone who did deserve it. She was lagging behind. Getting distracted by April’s presence at her house. Decorating. Online shopping. Reading.
Driving with Maddox.
Two days a week, for an hour. Sometimes longer if he could gently push her into getting a meal with him. Sometimes she was braver. Or her willpower crumbled, and she broke all the promises she’d made to herself about him. That’s what led to more dinners, more time together, and the movie where he dared hold her hand, and she dared hold it back.
She looked forward to those hours. The lessons. And she dreaded it at the same time. She hated how easy Maddox was to like. How patient he was with her, even when she was a downright bitch. It all rolled off his back as if there were nothing he wouldn’t forgive her for. He was an avid listener, never stepping over her, never asking questions he knew she didn’t want to answer.
And now they were done. That was good, right? Once she passed the test she could finally get around to starting the rest of her life.
The part where she hurt people who did deserve it.
“I’ve organized a test for you. I’ll drive you if you want,” Maddox offered.
“No,” she said sharply. “April will take me.”
Something about him driving her to something she was so damn afraid of was too far. Too close to him being the protector she knew he was aching to be.
Maddox kept his face carefully blank at her response. He did that, tried to hide his emotional responses to her quirks, her anger, her indifference, her cruelty. Her honesty, which was all of them wrapped up in one.
He was trying to keep his mask on because he was still trying to protect her from himself. It infuriated her.
“If that’s what you want,” he said diplomatically.
She gritted her teeth against the need to grab him by the shoulder and shake him.
Do something else. Kiss him.
But no. They’d had their first and only kiss.
“I’m proud of you,” he said, eyes on her, not giving her respite. “And I’ve really enjoyed these past few weeks with you.”
That’s the one thing Maddox did not do to protect Orion. He insisted on giving her eye contact, on forcing her to look at him, engage with him. She had long abandoned her system of trying to avoid it. It was like a magnet. Forcing her to stare at her past, at the mistakes she was making with her newly liberated future.
“You’re proud of me for learning how to drive?” she answered, forcing sarcasm into her tone. “It’s not something to be proud of when most sixteen-year-olds can do it.”
Orion swallowed blades. There he was. Seeing too much, caring too much. He was the cop who would never catch all the bad guys. That would eventually be hunting her.
He was nothing.
She fastened a sweaty palm around the door handle like it was a fucking escape hatch. “It’s not my life, Maddox,” she said. “Not really. It will always be theirs. I just learned how to drive a car. I appreciate you taking the time. Your obligation is now over. I would appreciate it if you kept your distance from now on. No more dinners or movies. I just . . . I just need time to figure things out.”
She escaped then, without looking back. Tasting a lie on her tongue and hatred in her soul.
“Cheers!” April said, clinking their glasses together. “To you finally being able to drive and getting yourself a boss ass whip on the same day.”
Orion furrowed her brows. “Whip” was not a colloquialism she recognized, but she guessed April was referring to the SUV she purchased after passing the driving test.
Barely passing.
She was a mess. Sweating, shaking, barely able to talk or listen to the man in the passenger seat softly giving her direction. Orion honestly thought he gave her the license out of pity more than anything. She wouldn’t put it past Maddox calling ahead or calling in favors in order to make sure it went off without a hitch.
Orion knew the instructor recognized her from TV, so that could have also been the reason. He stared at her slack-jawed for ten whole seconds when she first met him. She counted. He didn’t ask questions or mention her ordeal, but she knew. She could feel the pity and morbid fascination in the air.
