by Ella Miles
I hate Langston.
I hate that he ignores me.
I hate that he is an obnoxious flirt in school.
I hate that he kills and has become Enzo’s little henchman.
But most of all, I hate that he still knows me better than anyone. A part of me still wants to care, still yearns to return to the friendship we once shared.
I hate myself most of all for still caring.
That’s not what killing Langston’s father is about, though. I’m not doing this for Langston. I’m doing this for me. For the little girl who got beaten by this horrid man.
I will ensure that he dies, just like the part of me that died that day.
I step out of the small guest house on Enzo’s property. I’m not sure if Langston invited Enzo and Zeke to take part in the hunting and killing of his father or not. Enzo and Zeke understand. They would want to help us kill him. They would be able to do the job as well as me, but that isn’t what this is about.
Enzo and Zeke didn’t experience the abuse. They didn’t spend years with the monster. They have their own demons, but not like Langston and I do. For Langston and me, this is personal in an entirely different way.
I wait outside as the sun begins to set to see who is going to show up.
Langston appears from the side of Enzo’s house. He must have come around back instead of through the house.
“Where are Enzo and Zeke?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “They aren’t coming. This is just about the two of us.”
I nod.
His hardened, cool eyes examine me from head to toe. I’ve never seen Langston so calm and cool. Usually, he has an air about him, a lightness. Not today.
“What happened to your dress?”
“I didn’t think it was appropriate for hunting.”
He chuckles. “We aren’t literally going hunting. That’s not how you catch a monster.”
“How do you catch a monster, then?”
He shrugs. “You’re the hunter. You come up with a plan. I’ll just kill him once you lure him away.”
What he’s not saying is that he’s too close to the man he plans on killing. If he comes up with the plan, he’ll make a mistake because he’s not thinking clearly. He needs me to help him.
“Where is he tonight?” I ask.
“There is some party that he and the stepmonster are having. We won’t be able to kill him until after, maybe not even tonight. Tonight might just be about strategizing how to kill him. It—”
“No. He dies tonight.”
Langston stares at me, really looking at me for the first time in years.
We may hate each other, but we know the depths of each other’s pain. Killing Langston’s father might be one of the few areas we still agree on.
“Tell me what your plan is,” Langston says, his voice firm and yet hauntingly begging me to tell him how to end his pain and suffering.
My wheels start turning.
I know what we have to do, even though I sort of hate it.
“Go borrow Enzo’s most expensive suit,” I say.
Langston frowns. “I’m not wearing a suit. I’m not going to that asshole’s party. I’m not—”
“Do you want to kill your father tonight or not?”
He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Yes, but—”
“This is the only way he dies tonight. We go to the party; we pretend that we are the perfect couple doing exactly what your stepmonster wants, and then we kill him.”
“There will be too many witnesses.”
“No, there will be too many suspects.”
Langston peers into my eyes. Neither of us blinks. His pain oozes off him, letting me know how desperately he needs this tonight. He can’t wait. We can’t fail.
“We won’t fail,” I say.
His lips thin into tight lines. He gives me a solemn nod and then heads back to Enzo’s house.
I turn and head inside, already pulling the braid down. At least my hair will now turn into soft waves, so the braid wasn’t a complete waste.
I dig through my closet until I find the perfect dress for tonight. A dress that Enzo bought me, just like every other piece of clothing in this closet. I’m so lucky my mother found this job and that Enzo helps me when he can.
I quickly change, apply makeup, fluff my hair and then run out the door just as Langston starts out the house.
He doesn’t see me at first, so I get to watch him without feeling embarrassed that there is a little line of drool on the corner of my mouth.
The suit doesn’t fit him perfectly. It’s slightly too big in the shoulders and just a hair too short in the legs. But no one will notice because the boy wearing the suit demands to be seen. His tousled blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and toe-curling grin capture my gaze. Even with the look of complete determination on his face, he shines brighter than the sun.
I don’t understand how he can pull off that look. And I have a feeling as he grows older, more and more women are going to fall for his charms. More and more women are going to want him.
Good thing I don’t want him. I could turn into a jealous bitch if I have to watch years of girls parade themselves in front of Langston.
Langston finally looks up. He stops walking. The brightness is gone when he looks at me. That’s who I am—I steal the life out of people.
He continues walking to me. He doesn’t comment on my appearance, and I don’t comment on his.
“Does your plan involve a way to get to my stepmonster’s house? Because the bus doesn’t stop anywhere near there.”
Langston hardly ever stays at his house. Instead, he’s almost always here at Enzo’s.
“I thought we’d drive,” I say with a smile.
“We aren’t sixteen. Neither of us has a driver’s license or has ever driven on our own before.”
I roll my eyes. “You know how to use a gun. You know how to hack into any computer. You’ve most likely killed before. I don’t think driving without a license even registers on the list of bad things you’ve done.”
He frowns.
“Are you scared? Think you can’t drive without wrecking us? I could always—”
“No, I’m driving. We’ll take the Porsche.”
I smile—my favorite of all Mr. Black’s cars.
We head inside Enzo’s house. Luckily, Enzo and his father are at the club working, so we don’t have to ask permission to use the car. We just take it.
Enzo wouldn’t care.
And if Mr. Black knew that we were killing Langston’s father tonight, he’d probably approve. The only bigger monster than Langston’s father is Enzo’s father.
We both climb into the Porsche. Langston doesn’t hesitate. He puts the car in reverse and backs out of the garage.
I flip on a pop song.
Langston growls and switches it to rap.
“Passenger gets to pick the music,” I say, flipping it back.
“You’re ridiculous.”
He steps on the gas too hard, and we lurch forward.
“Easy, tiger. We don’t want to get us killed before we even arrive.”
He lightly taps the gas, and then we are driving like the grown-ups we were forced into being far too young.
Annoyed with my music choice, he turns off the radio. Then his eyes grace the hem of my mid-thigh angelic dress. It’s covered in pretty white lace—the only part of it that hints that I’m still part girl. The rest of me is all woman. I developed early, already with plenty of curves at my hip and enough cleavage to draw in the most saintly of men.
“Why did you start wearing dresses, Liesel?”
There he goes calling me Liesel again.
I stare out the window. I started wearing dresses and acting girly when Enzo offered to pay for a new wardrobe for me, when I started a new school filled with rich snobs. The truth is I started wearing a dress because I liked the attention it gives me. I’m tired of blending in. Dresses make me feel like I’m more powerful than I reall
y am.
“To drive you wild.”
He grunts.
“Is it working?”
“What do you think?” he snaps.
Yes.
No.
I honestly can’t read him well any more.
The conversation ends, though, as we pull up into the ridiculous circular drive in front of Langston’s stepmom’s house. Each of our doors is opened by a valet, and I take an offered hand helping me out of the car like we are about to attend a grand ball instead of a house party in Miami’s richest area.
As soon as I get out of the car, I feel Langston brushing the valet’s hand away from mine. He takes my arm carefully, like he’s afraid that touching me is going to cause his hand to fall off.
I grab his arm more forcibly. “Holding my hand isn’t going to kill you.”
“Pretending that you’re my girlfriend might.”
I narrow my eyes. “If you don’t want my help, then you can do this yourself.”
“Fine, I’m sorry. Let’s just get this over with.”
I smile. “Follow my lead.”
I spot our target and walk over to the stepmonster, who is talking excitedly with a group of chatty women. This will do perfectly to make our introduction.
“Introduce me to your stepmom with your charming smile,” I say.
He frowns.
“Just trust me. Introduce me, I’ll do the rest.”
Langston leads me over and clears his throat as he approaches. “Ladies,” he smiles at the women, laying on the charm. Then he looks to his stepmom. This part will be the hardest. “Mother, I’d like to introduce you to my girlfriend, Liesel Dunn.”
He calls his stepmom ‘mother’ like she likes as he puts his hand on the small of my back with a bright, charming smile.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Pearce. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Mrs. Pearce looks at me, hesitantly. She likes that Langston is here, that he called her mother, and that I look like a high-class girlfriend in my expensive dress. I just need to sell that I have money just like her, and then she’ll approve of her stepson’s choice in women.
“I’m sorry we were late. Langston had to pick me up on Fisher Island,” I say, giving Enzo’s house address. She doesn’t have to know that the only reason my address is the same is because I live in the guest house while my mother works in the main house as a maid.
“Oh, it’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear.” Her eyes light up as she looks from Langston to me.
I gently lean into Langston’s side, selling the appearance that we are boyfriend and girlfriend.
We pretend to be interested in what the women are saying for a while, before excusing ourselves.
“How did that help anything?” Langston asks.
I grab his tie and pull him into the nearest bedroom before I kick the door shut behind me.
“Your stepmom is happy. She’ll think I’m good for you and start to trust you a little more. She’ll tell your dad, who won’t believe her and will come to us.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “And now, we are going to work on our alibi.”
Langston raises an eyebrow. “I’m not fucking you, huntress.”
I smile; he used my nickname.
“I’m not asking you to fuck me. Just pretend that having sex loud enough that other guests in the hallway will notice. Mess up our clothes enough so when we leave, everyone will know that we are just horny teenagers. Our entire focus was on each other, not on killing your father.”
“I hate you.” Langston’s teeth grind together with each word.
“Make love to me, killer.”
He walks over to me, stopping inches from me.
What is he doing? Is he going to kiss me? The only kiss we’ve had was the one when we were kids. That doesn’t count. He’s much more grown-up now. More experienced. This kiss could…
He puts his hands down on the bed on either side of me.
He’s going to kiss me.
And then, his hands start bouncing up and down, making me and the bed shake.
I laugh.
“You aren’t supposed to laugh when I fake fuck you.”
I bite my lip, stifling another chuckle.
“Ooh, yea, just like that,” I moan, my eyelashes fluttering as I gaze at Langston, who hasn’t moved from his position.
“Louder, baby, I want the whole house to know you are mine.”
“Baby? Really?” I whisper. “That’s so cheesy.”
He stops shaking the bed and gives me a stern look.
“Yes, Langston!” I yell a little too loudly.
He groans loudly.
Damn, it’s sexier than I imagined.
And then he slams the bed hard, the headboard creaks, splitting one of the posts.
We both moan together, calling out each other’s names.
Then I collapse back on the bed, exhausted like we really did fuck.
That was intense—too intense. I need to stay focused.
When I sit back up, Langston is leaning against the opposite wall, watching me.
I catch my breath and clear my throat. “Mess up your clothes a little.”
He slowly starts loosening his tie.
I fuss up my hair; I let one shoulder of my dress hang down my arm and yank the front of the dress down, revealing more cleavage than before. Then I run my thumb over my lipstick, smearing it just slightly.
Langston lets out a strangled breath.
Do I affect him like he affects me?
Not possible.
It’s just tension, knowing what we’re about to do.
“Now, what’s your plan?” Langston asks.
“To get your father to publicly kick us out to seal our alibi.”
“When really…?”
“He’s going to see us sneaking off to the lake behind the house.”
“Where I’ll kill him.”
I nod slowly.
Langston walks over to me. His thumb brushes just below my lower lip.
“No one will need to see your smeared makeup to think I fucked you.”
And then he takes my hand. I don’t ask him what he means. I just let him lead me out of the bedroom.
“Out,” his father’s voice says the second we leave the bedroom.
I hide my smirk at how well my plan is working.
Langston glares at his father. “We were just leaving.”
He pulls me past where his father stands in the doorway and out the front door. Our car is already waiting for us. We drive off silently, our alibi firmly in place.
Then we circle around to the back of the lake.
Langston glances at me one last time as if to thank me without actually saying the words. I completed my part of the pact, now Langston has to complete his part—killing his father.
7
Langston
“Wait here, I’ll lure my father down to the lake. I’ll come get you when it’s done,” I say to Liesel as I step out of the car.
When I exit, I hear her car door slam shut.
“I told you to stay, huntress.”
“I’m not going to sit in the car and wait like some damsel in distress. I might not participate in killing him, but I deserve to be involved. To watch. To see with my own eyes that he’s dead. I want him gone almost as desperately as you do.”
I don’t want Liesel anywhere near the danger, but more than that, I don’t want her to watch me kill—even a monster like my father. It will change everything between us.
Like everything hasn’t changed already.
I sigh.
“Fine. But don’t let him see you. Stay hidden and don’t try to help. Even if things go badly, promise me you won’t interfere.”
She bites her bottom lip as she thinks. “I promise to only interfere if he’s killing you.”
“No.”
“You can’t expect me to just sit by and watch you die!”
I start walking away from the car into the f
orest of trees behind the house. She chases after me.
“Langston!”
I stop abruptly, and she slams into my back.
“I won’t watch you die.”
“The fact that you think there is even a chance that he’ll kill me tells me all I need to know.”
She huffs. “That’s not fair. I think you can handle him. I’m just saying if he brings bodyguards with him, then it won’t be a fair fight, and I won’t just sit by and let you die.”
I should be thankful for her comments, that she cares enough to not let me die. In reality, my father could bring all the men in the house with him and I would still win. Liesel doesn’t know the depths of my pain. She doesn’t know how Enzo, Zeke, and I have trained for a day like this. My father and the men in the house are nothing but drunk fools. They don’t know how to fire a gun or win in hand-to-hand combat.
I do.
There is no way I’ll lose.
“Just stay hidden,” I say, and then I storm off.
Liesel stops in the brush as I walk up the hill to the house where the party is still going strong.
I stand on the edge of the patio, just past the pool, and I wait. People don’t pay me any attention, but I’m not here for their attention. I’m here for one man’s—my father.
Finally, I spot him at the patio bar. Surprise, surprise.
I make my way over, ensuring that no one notices me. I need to keep my alibi alive.
If needed, Liesel will testify that I was with her all night, making out at her house.
I come up to my father from behind.
“We need to talk,” I say.
He snaps at my words, turning around as he stumbles on his feet. I’d rather do this when he’s sober. I want to be able to look him in the eye and know that he understands exactly what I’m about to do to him and why when I kill him. But if I waited until he was sober, I’d be waiting forever.
“My fists will be happy to talk to you,” he turns, glaring down at me.
My eyes cut to the house filled with people. “Good luck kicking my ass here without one of these people hearing. Your wife wouldn’t be happy if one of her guests saw or heard you beating your son.”
“No one cares about trash like you.”
Just then, a couple nearby notices the tension in my father’s gaze.
My father realizes he can’t give me the beating he’s itching to give me here.
