Page 2 of The Monster’s Weakness

“It’s a fucking pharmaceutical company and they won’t cover your meds?”

Just another reason to kill this piece of shit. Caleb stretched his right arm under his left arm without turning his body and shot Harry Pembroke right between the eyes. He’d trained as a sniper for nearly a decade, and he never missed a shot.

She screamed, then slapped her hands over her mouth, squatting down in the corner.

“That’s what you wanted, no?”

The woman didn’t answer, just looked at him with her eyes. Fear-filled eyes.

Shouldn’t he be Prince-fucking-Charming right now? Caleb had taken care of the bad guy. He’d never understand women.

He had a mask on, so he’d be charitable tonight and not kill her, too.

Before he walked through the doorway, he stopped. “I’m curious, what did you think would happen tonight? You think he’d get so scared of your fake gun that he’d approve your medical? You never thought he’d call the cops the second you left?”

“I didn’t think ahead,” she said. “It was an emotional decision, okay?”

Her eyes looked almost fluorescent blue with the tears swimming in them. She hugged her knees from where she was sitting on the floor as if trying to make herself as small as possible.

“You probably shouldn’t stick around,” he said.

****

Gemma didn’t move until she heard the elevator doors close. She stood up, her balance still shaky. She was in a complete state of shock. Her boss was dead, still sitting in his fancy chair, his head leaning back as if taking a nap. The scene would look completely normal, nothing out of place, if not for the red circle of blood dripping down from between his eyes.

That killer was right, if she’d been able to go through with her spur-of-the-moment plan, she’d have ended up in jail and still have no meds. It had just been so hard the past few weeks since being denied medical. Without meds, her MS would start to spiral out of control and she had zero support system. She didn’t want to end up in a wheelchair just because she couldn’t afford her insanely expensive drugs. Gemma didn’t ask for this disease, but it still made her feel like a pariah, even within her own family.

She walked with her back against the wall, too scared to get near the dead body. Once at the door, she was able to slip out of the office. Her heart was racing. What just happened? She’d witnessed a murder. It was hard to feel emotional when Mr. Pembroke had been a heartless bastard every time she appealed to him for help. He seemed to change into a different person the past month, and not for the better.

Now what?

Gemma got into the elevator and pushed the button for the parking garage. She was surprised she could think straight. She wanted to get as far from here as physically possible. If she could rewind time, she’d never have chosen to do any of this. They were the actions of a desperate woman, and now that she’d been shocked back into reality, she had so many regrets.

Once inside her little hatchback, she locked the doors and let out a shaky breath. Who was that masked man? She’d wonder who would want Mr. Pembroke dead, but pretty much everyone had complaints, many with life and death health concerns.

There was no humanity left. They lived in a world obsessed with money and power.

Gemma felt more alone than ever right now. She still remembered the day nine years ago when she got the diagnosis for multiple sclerosis. She’d only been seventeen. At the time, she’d known so little about MS, same with her parents. She’d been terrified and thought it was a death sentence until she learned there were new drugs to keep her from getting more lesions. Everything changed when she turned eighteen and wasn’t covered by her parents’ medical anymore.

They didn’t want the burden of the bills, the appointments, the emergency room visits. It didn’t take long for them to say she was an adult now and not their responsibility. They quickly pushed her out of their lives and minds. She hadn’t even gotten a text from her mother in over five years. It felt shitty that her own parents didn’t care if she was alive or dead.

And now those same feelings of helplessness and loneliness were threatening to undo her.

Then she saw him. The murderer. He was still wearing his mask as he walked calmly through the parking garage. She slunk down in her seat so just her head could see through the windshield. Why hadn’t she just driven away when she had the chance?

His steps started to slow. He was a big guy, and even with the mask and jacket, she could tell he worked out and had tanned skin and dark features. Mentally, she’d been taking notes in case she got questioned by the police or something. There was a tattoo creeping out of his sleeve onto his hand. She noticed when he pointed the gun at her in the office.

Gemma hoped he was just looking for his car, but she wasn’t so lucky. He stopped dead right in front of her car, then slowly turned completely around to face her. He just stood there. Could he even see her?

When he reached out an arm and pretended to shoot her with his thumb and finger, she thought her heart would beat right out of her chest.

Please walk away. Please walk away.

He’d probably changed his mind and wanted to eliminate all the witnesses. Or was it just her for being in the office when she wasn’t supposed to be?

When he started walking toward her driver’s side door, she panicked. He knocked on the glass, a soft tap. She wiggled back up into a normal sitting position, feeling like an idiot. A dead idiot. She had to turn the key in the ignition in order to lower the glass down. He was just standing there like a brick wall.

“Report the shooting. If you don’t, you’ll be the last person seen leaving the garage. Detectives will notice.”