Page 55 of Death Kiss

My ribs scream as I tear off my clothes and slip into my dark, baggier ones. The ones that conceal me and blood equally well. Oh god, my head is thumping already, and I haven’t even left the house. The comfort of the bed calls me, and I stop just long enough to scoop up a pair of Kat’s discarded panties and press them to my nose, breathing her in like she’s a fucking pain med.

I wrap them around my wrist like a scrunchie and shudder when I see the syringes again. When I bought the sedatives off a particularly dodgy guy called Razor, I couldn’t have imagined what it’s like to be poked with one. There’s no way I’ll ever forget the terror of being conscious and aware, yet completely unable to move. Locked into my head, with my meat sack unreachable.

Never again.

Panic rises at the memory, and I have to shove it down to get myself moving. I plug my phone in next to Kat’s, kicking off the software that keeps it active.

It’s not until I’m outside that the reality of the situation hits. I’m injured. Kat’s ten miles away. With the only car we own.

Fuck.

Calling an Uber will leave a track they can follow. Even a regular cab without an app will have a log that would trace me to being in the vicinity of Hugh’s house. Most cabs have cameras now too. I can’t ask Ellie to drive me to a house so I can murder some guy.

There’s a bike on its side outside the corner shop. I limp toward it, figuring I likely need it more urgently than whoever is inside. Lifting my leg enough to straddle the bike makes me want to vomit. Pedalling makes me see stars, and sweat pours down my face as I push onward.

I’m coming, Kat.

Just wait for me.

I have to get to her, because I’ll tear the fucking world apart if these assholes take one more thing from me.

TWENTY-FIVE

KAT

For a man so used to being in charge, Hugh Everly sure cries like a little bitch. Getting him and subduing him with a half syringe of sedative had proved a cinch, and I’m feeling pretty damn pleased with myself.

I’ve finally gone from following Liam into these kills to proactively leading the charge.

Not that I’m leading anyone, seeing as Liam isn’t here, and while things are going pretty swimmingly, I wish he was.

Days without talking to him have tempered my rage, and I’m missing him big time. My partner in crime. My everything.

‘Oh, Hugh,’ I say, walking around the dining chair I have him zip-tied to. His face contorting as I bring my masked one close. ‘You know there’s no way out of this. Even if you somehow miraculously survive, I took pictures of your little photo collection and the terribly concealed bodies in the garden.’

‘Fuck off.’ Hugh spits at me, but misses. He keeps switching between despair and ire. Largely depending on how long it’s been since my knife carved pretty patterns into his flesh. The scarlet puddle beneath his chair keeps growing. I’ve been trying to carve dicks into his skin, but it’s surprisingly hard when he keeps writhing around. The one on his forehead is particularly good, though.

‘What would be worse for you? Death or ending up in prison known as a man who hurts kids. Kills them. You know well enough what they do to people like you in there.’

Hugh grunts and tugs at the wrist ties again, as though they’ve magically loosened in the last two minutes. ‘They’d never put me in there. I know people high up in the forc⁠—’

His scream cuts him off as I dig it deep into his thigh, twisting the knife. Damn, I can see why it was so hard for Liam to stop last time. It’s like his pain washes over me with deepest satisfaction. Like every tear he sheds pays some sort of retribution to those he hurt.

‘Your pal Ashworth?’ I say, my voice almost singsong. ‘Don’t worry, he’s on the list and will be joining you in hell in due course. You can have a little pity party while burning for eternity.’

His bloodied face pales, and I grin like a maniac.

‘God, Hugh. Do you know how badly I grappled with killing the others? I had nightmares for weeks. Guilt ate me up. But the past few nights I’ve slept like a bloody log. I’m thrilled to see you suffering.’

Inch by inch, I drag my curved blade over him, burying the tip beneath his skin. It reaves great red, dripping gouges across his torso.

‘Now, we need to talk about your brother,’ I say, tracing the blade around his nipple. ‘I need Gregory’s address. So I can send him right into nothingness after you.’

Hugh doesn’t answer.

‘Hughey, Hughey, Hughey. How tight do you think you can hold that tongue?’

Hugh jerks as I pinch his nipple, pulling the flesh taut and sliding my knife over the edge of the areola. It turns my stomach a little to see it begin to peel away.