Page 21 of Unholy Bonds

She laughed, clearly amused by that. “Something like that. I read Art of Murder, too.” Art of Murder was the magazine for true crimes, and I wrote in it.

She stomped on my right foot, and a scream left me when she stabbed me—a scream that didn’t sound manly at all. Using my distraction, she untangled herself from me, entered her car, and sped away, leaving me staring at her car’s old ass once again.

I hobbled toward my home, cursing her, cursing myself, cursing everything. I had misjudged her. She wasn’t just prepared; she was a pro at this. Like she had spent all her life chasing killers.

I had no idea how she grabbed her blade without moving an inch.

What a sneaky bitch! I shouldn’t be impressed, but I was.

I opened the door and limped in, wincing with each step. My phone rang, startling me. “Enzo? What?”

“I was—”

“You know what, just come to my fucking house. I can’t deal with this by myself.”

“What crawled up your ass and died, Ry?”

“That fucking murderous Barbie. She was in my fucking home.”

“Tell me you caught her.”

“No. She escaped. I’m also sporting a war wound on my fucking thigh. Buy me some painkillers before you come. I feel like I’m dying.”

“What a big baby. For a serial killer, you whine too much.”

“Fuck you, Enzo.” I hung up before limping toward the tap. Grabbing a small bowl, I filled it with water before snatching the first-aid kit from the cabinet. The cut wasn’t deep, but it still hurt like a bitch.

I had just finished patching up my knife wound when the door opened. Enzo walked in with my medication. I took the pill from him and swallowed it down with a glass of water.

“Do you want me to take you to a doctor?” he asked, eyeing the blood-stained gauze littering the counter.

“No, the last thing I need is a doctor.”

“So, I assume you let her go again?” Enzo asked, his voice sarcastic, as if it was entirely my fault.

“I didn’t let her do anything. She stabbed me in my thigh, fucking too close to my dick, and then she jumped into her stupid car and drove away.” I was almost whining. Shit.

Enzo nodded with a leer. “She might not be normal, you know. She could be someone like you.”

“Thank you. That’s what I need to hear, that I’m not normal,” I said, giving him a bright smile.

“Oh, stop being so fucking sarcastic. You know what I meant,” Enzo said with a growl. “Do you need anything to eat?”

“Maybe that woman’s heart. Find her and roast that for me, will you?”

“Well, I’ll try.” Enzo rolled his eyes as he pulled a stool next to me and sat down. “So, did you find anything?”

“That her hair is indeed a wig, but a costly wig. Also, she’s a fucking menace,” I said with a curse. “I should have just cut her throat when I had the chance.”

“Oh, she doesn’t fit your… you know, killing system.”

“I know, but I should have. I’m not going to prison because she’s a fucking busybody.”

“If she was just curious, she wouldn’t have come to your house. She’s not just nosy. She’s dangerous.” He was right. It wasn’t just curiosity that brought her here. Any normal person would have been put off after seeing someone kill a man. Not her, though.

“I’m going to find her and then make her regret this, all of this,” I said, standing up. “Going to bed. My head’s fucking killing me.”

“I’m leaving. I have a funeral to prepare for tomorrow,” Enzo said as he stood up. “Did you check if she had taken anything from your house?”

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