Page 82 of No Control

“That was fast,” Jude remarks with a chuckle.

“What’s gonna happen to the kids?” I ask as Luca pulls away from the curb.

“They split as soon as Carlson died. They’ve been staying with a relative, disconnected from their mother. Some business associate actually called in the hit, by the way.”

“Figures,” I mutter as we pull away from the curb.

“Must’ve been a really dysfunctional home life,” Jude continues, unnecessarily expanding on his thoughts. “I never understand how love can be so toxic.”

“I do,” I answer without thinking twice about it. That woman was the second person I’ve killed for Lydia—and the first woman I’ve ever taken from the Earth. And I don’t regret it. The woman could’ve been in love with me and all my dark truths, but she would’ve met the same fate. Was it an overreaction? Maybe. Too late now.

“I take it things aren’t so great at home,” Luca chuckles. “I don’t think it ever works out, honestly. You stepped up your game tonight, though. Turned down pussy and took care of the threat without regard for tits. It’s impressive.”

I purse my lips. “Just take me to the airport.” I fall into silence, staring out at the blackness of the night. There’s no stars in the sky. No moon. Just darkness.

And I let it pull me in.

I let it take me back to the night I saw my stepfather beating and raping my mother for the hundredth time. She fought like hell. She always did. But that night was different. She was dying. I took the knife from the kitchen of our upstate estate, snuck up behind him, and shoved it through his neck as she took her last gasp of air. I tried to revive her, crying as I threw my body into compressing her chest.

I had tried to call 9-1-1 right after—the way they teach you to, growing up. But he had disabled the phone line that night, and she was gone before I could do anything.

So, I set the house on fire.

I carried my sister out of that monstrosity with the twenty thousand I found in the safe. I got a fake I.D., changed my name to Henry Bayne, became two years older than I really was, and flew us across the country. My little sister became Cher because she loved the singer. And I wasn’t going to argue with her over it. No matter how silly I thought it was.

I gave her a new life and a good education while I scrounged, eventually realizing the only skill I had to give was my ability to snuff the life out of people. I stumbled into the right people…

And here I am.

With a woman trapped in my bedroom.

***

By the time I make it back to the house, it’s the middle of the afternoon. The skies are overcast, but the little bit of sun peeking through paints a picture perfect view of the cabin. Cher is waiting for me in the yard with Duke as I pull into the driveway. I park outside of the garage, eyeing her as I climb out.

“I take it the hit on your back is null and void,” she says, her voice soft, a tinge of relief in it.

I nod, my mind just as shattered as it was before. “Is she still up there?”

Cher nods, her eyes filling with tears. “I told her the truth, though. I told her the truth about you. She deserved it.”

I look away from her. “That’s fair.”

“She needs to know you.”

“I think she gets it,” I grumble, warring with the emotions destroying my heart. “I’m a—“

“No, you think that’s what you are, Henry,“ Cher cuts me off, her voice wavering as a tear slips down her cheek. “You saved my life. You knew he was coming for me after he wore her out—he said so.”

I shake my head, trying to block out the painful memories of the conversation I’d overheard the night of my first murder.

I’ll take her now that you’re worthless, he had screamed at my mother.

“You are capable of love.” Cher grabs my arm. “You love me. You put me in the best schools while you never finished your education. You bought me this place when I got laid off from my job. You set the world on fire to keep me safe. You didn’t do it for you. You never put yourself into the equation—and that’s what love is. It’s not obsession. It’s not forcing someone to stay. It’s letting them go.”

“Stop it,” I choke out the words, meeting her gaze—one that so closely resembles our mother.

“I know you love her,” Cher urges, holding onto me, begging for my attention. “I see it in the way you look at her. She makes you feel like a human being. That’s why you’re hanging onto her so tightly. Maybe at first it was a game—scaring her into taking the deal. But it’s more than that now, isn’t it?”

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