He stared for long moments, and I held my breath waiting for his response. When he finally nodded, I moved to turn away. “But I have one more question first.”
My heart skipped and my throat ached. I should have known it wouldn’t be so easy. “Yes?”
“Do you have any idea what being mine means?” His voice was full of possession. He still thought he could own me.
Control me.
If I rolled my eyes, Keiran might kill me. He was just that mad but holding my irritation and my own anger at bay was proving a challenge.
“It’s been five years. I’m aware.” I kept my tone as bland as possible instead of lashing out like I wanted.
“Wanna bet? Cause I say you don’t anymore.”
“Well, then, enlighten me, Keiran.”
“Being mine means you don’t think, you don’t plan, and you damn fucking sure don’t make a move without my permission.”
“Excuse me?”
He stalked forward, invading my space. “Piss me off, Lake. I fucking dare you.”
“Step back.” I issued my own warning. “I’m not taking this shit from you again.”
His eyes flickered with what might have been regret, but it was gone in a blink. “I won’t hurt you, baby.” He paused to run his finger down my cheek. It slipped from my face roughly, indicating the force of his next words. “But I will punish you.”
*
SEVEN MONTHS AGO
I stormed from the center, but when I reached my car, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I came here with the intention of killing Mitch, and I wasn’t leaving until he was dead.
I drove my car out of sight knowing Q would check to make sure I had actually left and waited, keeping watch on the door. I didn’t have to wait long. Q slowly exited the building and crept away all too calmly with his outer shirt folded in his hand.
I decided to follow after him to make sure he left the city and when he did, I turned back for the center. I waited once again for another employee to take a smoke break and slipped back inside. It didn’t occur to me until I was pushing through his room door once again that I no longer had my knife, but it didn’t matter.
Mitch was already dead.
The gaping hole in his throat where blood had gushed, staining his gown and sheets, was proof that Mitch had finally met his deserved ending.
With each step toward his bedside, my relief over his death grew.
Keiran was safe.
I felt a sick pleasure witnessing Mitch’s lifeless stare. He deserved to suffer more than he did, but I would take what I could get. I hadn’t been the one to deliver the deathblow, but my hand in his death was as rewarding as it was damning. I had repaid him for all the evil he had done and the pain he had caused.
Keiran was finally free though a part of me died with Mitch—the innocence that had made me the perfect victim.
“I hope you suffer in hell, Mitch Masters.”
He couldn’t hear me, and I wished he could. I needed him to know he had paid his debts and that he didn’t win. I heard the sudden splatter of his blood on the wall and looked away, fighting the urge to gag. I shrunk back at the gruesome sight of the red lettering on the wall.
For John.
Why could Q write that? It was damning evidence that could come back to haunt us.
Suddenly, I had the feeling that coming back was a mistake. I ran from the room without looking back, and in my frantic need to escape, I stumbled down the wrong hallway and bumped into a nurse.
“Oh!”
“Sorry!” I forced the apology past my aching throat and attempted to get away when she shouted for me to stop. My instinct was to run but with a dead body that would soon be found it wouldn’t have been my smartest move.
“Now where are you off to in such a rush?”
“I was just looking for my grams room. I was hoping to visit her before she took her nap.” I was amazed at how easy the lies rolled off my tongue.
“What room is she in?”
“408.”
“You’re in the wrong wing. Take a left down this corridor and make a right at the end.”
“Thanks.” I tried once again to leave.
“Wait a second.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She eyed me suspiciously while taking in my appearance. “You’re not wearing a visitor’s badge. Did you sign in before roaming these halls?”
I felt the first rivulet of sweat on my top lip. I licked it away nervously and stilled my shaking hands. “Um. I’m sorry. I must have missed it.”
“Well, come on. I’ll walk you to the nurse’s station. You’re not allowed back here without signing in and wearing a visitor’s badge,” she berated unnecessarily.
I followed her to the desk where she handed me a clipboard and pen. Q’s wasn’t on the log, which meant he came in the same way I had. I scribbled my name and looked around at the busy nurses whose eyes were busy pouring over charts. The coast was clear so I bolted through the front doors.
*