by Rina Kent
Her eyes are shut, and she’s whimpering through the gag every time one of us speaks.
I can’t imagine what fresh hell this is for her, but I don’t think there’s any other way either of us gets out of this alive. I’m fully aware, however, that if something goes wrong in the next minute, she might die thinking I caved in and let my black soul take over.
Kneeling beside her waist, I grab her wrists from Marcus and wrap the fingers of my other hand around her neck.
Her eyes fly open. A piece of me dies when I see tears glittering in those lashes, trapped diamonds.
It’s already too late. She hates me now. She always will. Doesn’t matter how this ends. Doesn’t matter if you save her or just prolong her suffering.
Indi Virgo will never be mine. Not how I wanted her to be, anyway.
I make sure there’s barely any pressure on her neck. Her eyes flit between me and Marcus, where he’s forcing open her legs and holding her down.
What can I possibly say to her?
Should I even bother?
I tug loose her gag and kiss her instead. Then she moans into my mouth, shuddering.
“She’s ready, bro. Come on.”
I break off the kiss, and I don’t look at Marcus. I can’t, because then I’d have to see what he’s doing to make her shudder and convulse so. And that would break me.
“Do it,” I say, not daring to take my eyes off Indi’s. “I want you to fuck her.”
“What? No. I told you—”
“Please, bro. I want to…” My voice fades as hurt bleeds into Indi’s eyes. I can’t imagine how betrayed she must feel right now. The indignation, the shame? But I force the words out anyway, knowing they’ll cut me deeper than any knife ever could.
“I want to watch you fuck her.”
Marcus lets out a soft sound, something between a huff and a laugh. “Bro. You sure?”
“You said it yourself,” I murmur. “You’d love to pop another cherry.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
Indi
I’m dead inside. Dead, and cold, and crawling with maggots. But my lips are still tingling. I guess they haven’t got the message yet. They still think this is all in good fun; a little roughhousing before the main attraction.
If I weren’t a corpse, I’d be spewing up everything I’ve ever eaten. But all I do is lie here with my legs wide as they can go while Marcus positions himself by my pussy.
“You sure she’s a virgin?” Marcus says. “Never seen one with a shaved cunt before.”
I swallow hard, and wonder if Briar can feel my throat moving under his hand.
“Don’t fight this,” Briar says. “Just be a good girl, and take it all.”
My brain seethes in quiet fury at his words, but it’s the only thing still alive in my dead, dead body. I barely feel Marcus’s fingers on my folds, opening me up.
“I said don’t fight it!” Briar’s eyes flicker past me, but return so fast I could have imagined it.
The gun.
He was looking at the gun.
It’s a few feet away from me, but still out of reach.
“You holding her, bro?”
“Yeah. But she’s a good girl. She won’t fight you.”
“She will when I’m in,” Marcus says through a chuckle. “When I rip this pretty pussy in two.”
He strokes my folds, and it’s as if something inside my mind snaps. I scream. Briar’s hand closes over my mouth. Then I sink my teeth into his fingers.
He jerks away his hand with a shout of pain, and that’s when I buck with all my might. Marcus sits back, one hand on his cock, the other cupping his balls.
Told you — drop a bomb, and they always go for their nut sacks. I draw in my leg and kick out as fast as I can, slamming Marcus’s own hands into his genitals.
He screams as he falls backward, but by then I’m already twisting, arm stretching for the gun.
The metal’s ice-cold against my fingers. I drag it close, grab the grip, and twist to face Marcus.
But he’s not there anymore.
I sit up in a rush.
Briar and Marcus are on the far edge of the mattress. Briar has both hands around Marcus’s neck, and Marcus is trying to wedge open his fingers as his face starts swelling with trapped blood.
The gun bobs and weaves until I slap my one hand over the other.
I’ve never shot a gun.
I’ve never even watched enough action movies to have any idea how this thing works.
But I saw Marcus draw back the hammer, so I do that. And I know what a trigger is, so I curl my finger around it.
“Shoot him!” Briar yells.
But I can’t. Not yet. I’d probably end up hitting Briar in the back of the head. “Let him go!” I yell. “Then I’ll shoot.”
“Just fucking shoot him!”
Marcus abandons his attempts at tearing Briar’s hands off his throat. Instead, he slams a fist into Briar’s groin.
Briar groans and rolls off him, retching.
Marcus twists to the side just as I jerk back on the trigger.
The gun recoils like a jackhammer, and I almost lose my grip on it.
Almost…but not quite.
Briar pushes himself up and lunges for Marcus.
And then I pull the trigger again.
Briar
I’ve never liked the feel of blood. The silky, slightly sticky warmth of it always makes me cringe. And God, have I felt a lot of blood in my life.
The time I slipped and knocked loose my left incisor.
So much blood. In my mouth, down my throat, choking me. But even through the pain and shock, I’d rummaged around in that coppery pool to retrieve my tooth, dimly aware that it would suck ass if I swallowed it.
Football bled me a lot. Another tooth lost there. A gash out of my left leg. Some cuts deep enough for stitches.
Blood, blood, blood.
My hands are coated in it now. Not quite as much as when I’d knocked out my tooth, but somehow it feels even silkier, even stickier, hot enough to scorch.
I hear Indi’s voice, but it’s so far away.
“Leave him. Leave him!”
She sounds angry. She shouldn’t be; Marcus is my best friend.
I can’t let him die.
I keep my hands over the hole in his chest, trying to ignore the way his blood keeps oozing through my fingers. He’s pale as a sheet, his body shivering under me like he’s got a fever.
“Hey,” I say, not even sure if he can hear me. “Where you going?”
Marcus moves his lips, but the only thing that comes out is frothy pink foam.
“Stay here a bit. Help’s coming,” I tell him.
Indi grabs my arm, tries to tug me away. “Leave him!” she yells.
But I can’t. Marcus is my best friend.
I can’t let him die.
“Briar, p-please,” she sobs, falling to her knees beside me. “Leave him.”
But I can’t. Marcus is…
Those dark eyes stop blinking. His lips stop moving.
Marcus was my brother.
Chapter Fifty
Indi
I really gotta find out what the hell these guys put in their tranquilizers. I’ve never felt this relaxed, this zoned out, this…detached.
Not entirely true, I guess.
I was in almost this exact same spot when I last felt this way. Back then it was my mother’s body they were wheeling out of the smoking ruins of my house, not Addy’s.
Marcus is already in the ambulance. I heard someone say they’re taking him to the hospital. Dunno why — psycho fuck was already long dead by the time they pitched up here.
But then Addy disappears into an ambulance and they drive her away too.
Guess Lakeview was all out of mortuary vans tonight. Actually, now that I think about it, I can’t remember if they took mom away in an ambulance or a—
“Indi.”
I twist slowly, and tip back my head. It’s night time al
ready, but with all the police cars, ambulances, and the firetruck around — whose presence I have to get someone to explain to me before the night is out — Briar looks like a character in one of those cyberpunk movies where the whole city is basically just one big neon sign.
“Briar,” I say.
He steps closer, but almost reluctantly. “They want us down at the police station to give our statements.” There’s a clink from his hands — he’s busy toying with his keys. “Want a lift?”
I consider for a while, watching the play of red and blue on his face. Maybe they gave him something for his shock too, because he looks ready to wait all night for my answer.
“Can I drive?” I ask.
“No.” He shrugs. “You’ve been sedated.”
“So have you.”
“Can barely feel it.” Another shrug. “Plus, you’re not on my insurance.”
I stand, and it takes me forever just to take two steps closer to him. “You just don’t want me driving your car.”
“Not tonight.”
“But someday?”
His eyes lock onto mine. He reaches for me, and it takes us both a moment to realize I’m too far away. We step forward at the same time, and then I’m in his arms. I wish I could feel it. I’m sure it would be a wonderful moment, full of comfort and bliss.
But I’m still dead inside. Those maggots have stopped moving, but I have a sneaking suspicion that’s only because they’re sleeping.
I’m not sure if they’ll ever wake up again. I’m hoping they won’t.
I don’t want to think about that. What I want is for this day to be over. I want tomorrow to come.
Briar turns, his arm over my shoulder as he leads me to his Mustang. No one stops us — other than the bump on my head which, apparently didn’t give me a concussion — I don’t really have any wounds.
Even those two bite marks turned out to be much shallower than I’d imagined. No need for stitches. I did get a tetanus shot, though. Briar must have too. Turns out humans have filthy mouths.
I glance back over my shoulder, my eyes tracing the broken outline of my house. My other hand goes to the necklace that’s still hanging from my neck.
All I want to do is go home and sleep, but I know the police need information.
Go to sleep, my girl.
Have pleasant dreams.
Tomorrow is a new day.
This time, when I look ahead, I don’t see darkness. Maybe it’s the tranquilizers singing through my veins, but there’s some kind of numb hope seeping into me as Briar opens the passenger door.
I guess I can wait to go to sleep, because I know this time, mom’s promise will come true. Tomorrow, when I wake, it will be a bright new day.
I peek at Briar through my lashes as he turns the ignition and his Mustang rumbles into life.
How do I know? Because Briar will be there.
Epilogue
Indi
I’ve been zoning out to the clop-clop of our horses’s hooves. When Briar touches my arm, I gasp and wrench myself away.
We stare at each other for a moment before he breaks into a wide smile. “I’m gonna have to ask for my money back,” he says.
I frown at him.
“They said, and I quote, a ‘relaxing, romantic horseback trail’.”
I let out a rueful chuckle and shrug at him, facing forward again. “I love it.”
“You do?”
“It’s perfect, Briar.” I glance at him, looking away before our eyes can meet. “Although I still don’t know how many palms you had to grease to pull this off.”
“What, school?” He snorts. “We’ve both got B-averages. We’ve both just gone through a traumatic—”
He cuts off, and when he speaks again, there’s no mirth left in his words. “You needed a break.”
“So did you.”
“Yeah, I’m selfish like that, my little virgin.”
I snort this time, and shake my head. “Never grows old, does it?”
He leans over and pokes a finger in my side, making me twist over in my saddle and my horse take a side step as if she thinks she’s next.
“Stop it,” I snap, scowling at him.
“Only if you promise not to be upset.”
My scowl turns into a frown. “Why would I be—?”
His expression turns serious. “Because I lied to you.”
Something wriggles around in my guts, and I wonder briefly if the maggots are back. But I shove that thought away before it can latch on.
“About what?” I say, trying to keep my voice airy.
“I don’t like you, Indi.”
Luckily, my mare is well trained. Even when I stiffen, she just carries on plodding down the forest path at the same pace as before. I, however, almost don’t duck in time to avoid being swept away by a low-hanging branch.
“Um…okay,” I say, forcing a swallow. “And you had to tell me this during a romantic horse ride through the forest?”
“I couldn’t keep living a lie,” he says.
If his tone weren’t so goddamn serious, I’d be convinced this was all part of a foolishly elaborate prank at my expense. He’s never outgrown those, not in the four months we’ve been dating. Maybe he never will.
“Well, I’m glad it’s all out in the open,” I say. “So, should we turn around, or do you still want to have that picnic you promised me?”
“Oh, we’re having the picnic,” he says, sounding almost grumpy. “But don’t think I’m gonna enjoy it.”
“Pity,” I say, lifting my chin. “I was really looking forward to your charming banter while we snacked on some pretzels and warm champagne.”
He chuckles low in his throat. “You thought there’d be champagne?”
“There’d better be fucking champagne.” I glare at him until he looks at me, and then I intensify it even more. “Else I’m not taking another step.”
I reign in my mare, and Briar’s gelding plods on a few steps before he brings him to a stop. He looks over his shoulder, clearly exasperated with me. “Fine, there’s champagne. But it’s definitely warm, and possibly even flat by now.”
“I said we could trot.” I push my knees into my mare’s ribs, and she starts forward. “But nooooo. Briar’s a little chicken shit bitch, isn’t he?”
“You’re gonna pay for that,” he murmurs quietly, but also just loud enough for me to hear.
I smirk to myself, shaking my head. We’ve been riding through this gorgeous forest just south of the Devil’s Spine for the last three hours and it truly has been everything Briar said it would be. I’m almost starting to feel like myself again, and that’s saying a lot. These past few months have been difficult. Sleeping pills helped, as did the anti-anxiety medication Briar’s doctor gave me for the panic attacks I kept having. But there was always that feeling lurking deep inside me, like there was something bad waiting just around the corner. That it would pounce as soon as I let my guard down.
Briar seems to be doing fine, but I can never tell with him. I mean, we’re not living together or anything, so I don’t know what he’s like the times I’m not with him. He’s always been one to put on a brave face, so he could be hiding a ton of pain about losing his friend.
And not just a friend. A half-brother. A fact I’m still trying to wrap my head around.
One of many, in fact.
A lot of shit came to light when the police started their investigation. Brandon Baker, Marcus’s father, was arrested for multiple jewelry heists and as an accessory to murder. They’re also opening a case against him for the possible homicide of Natalie Briar after Brandon started spouting some shit about being glad that he’d dealt with that whoring bitch.
Briar told me it was an accident, and that’s what everyone thought. But one of the witness statements mentioned that Natalie’s brake lights came on long before she went off the side of the road.
Her car, however, never slowed down.
The wreckage of her vehicle has long since
been harvested for scrap metal, but I guess everyone would like to heap as many charges on Brandon’s head as judicially possible to make sure the creep never gets out of jail.
One case reopened, another case closed.
And boy, were the police in Lakeview only too happy to archive my mother’s homicide file. After the insurance company began pressuring them to take another look at the evidence, an internal investigation revealed that several of the officers working the case had been paid off to screw up the case.
All by Marcus’s dad, of course.
Lured with some time knocked off his sentence, Brandon gave a full confession about how he’d forced his son to break into people’s homes and steal the jewelry Briar’s father had made for them.
Briar told me about the beatings Marcus got. Seems they were very real indeed. Marcus had hospital files thick as an encyclopedia with multiple instances of domestic abuse injuries.
He was just as good as Briar at keeping up appearances. Plus, it seemed he could endure a shit load more pain when he smoked that weed vape of his. Healed faster, too.
With such an extensive history of abuse, I almost feel sorry for Marcus.
Then I remember what it felt like when he bit my breast, and the feeling goes away.
If Marcus had lived, he would have been charged with arson, rape, and first-degree murder. They matched his DNA to hair, skin, and semen samples found on my mother’s body.
I feel less sorry for him every day.
“Hungry?”
I snap out of the past and come back to the present feeling a little glum for all my macabre introspection.
Until I see the suggestion of a cabin up ahead.
“Is that…?”
“I don’t like picnics,” Briar announces like he’s in a confessional booth at mass.
I spur my mare into a trot, too eager to see what’s ahead to be bothered if Briar’s keeping up. As soon as her hooves plod on flagstones, I slide off my mare and absently loop her reign around a nearby tree branch.
This is exactly how I always pictured the grandmother’s cabin in Red Riding Hood. From the log walls to the smoke curling from the chimney.
