Page 90 of Sin Like the Devil

Towering over me, Elon’s face is a stormy landscape. “Just go out there, do your job and keep your mouth shut. This place is a powder keg. You really wanna be striking that match?”

“Maybe,” I retort without thinking.

He grimaces. “If this shit explodes, we’re all going down with it. You think everyone will just forgive and forget what you’ve done here?”

“I… I haven’t?—”

“Sold drugs? Needles? Knives?” Elon laughs coldly. “How about you tell me why a patient was spotted dangling off the goddamn roof the other morning?”

I duck my gaze. “Not a clue.”

“Your pass was used to unlock the doors. I checked.”

“Nothing to do with me.”

He snorts derisively. “I hear the bastard hauled himself up. Did you even care to check he hadn’t crashed to the ground below?”

I didn’t care to or need to. If Xander had fallen to his death and splatted like a broken egg, it would’ve been big news. And let’s face it, I’m not that fucking lucky. The son of a bitch isn’t that easy to kill.

“You were warned,” Elon continues. “One more slip-up, and it’s night-night for Ripley. You’re on thin ice.”

“Then it’s a good thing he’s alive, isn’t it?”

Done with this pointless conversation, I occupy myself by picking up the backpack and slinging it over my shoulder. The rooftop showdown was reckless, but the psychopath needed a warning. These silent mind games have to stop.

“It doesn’t matter who you’re related to.” Elon turns, calling over his shoulder. “You’re evidence. They’ll dispose of you like the rest of the problems that disappear in here.”

I watch him swagger off with a lead weight curling in my stomach. Less than a year. That’s all I’ve got left. I’ll soon be free to return to my life. I have to survive that long.

But what if it’s true?

What if this crumbling system is going to bury me too?

One hand gripping the strap, I suddenly feel like I’m being crushed by the insubstantial weight of drugs slung over my shoulder. A few handfuls feels like several kilos. I couldn’t begin to guess how much I’ve sold since transferring.

How many overdoses is that?

How many deaths?

All written off as the price of business. Justified. Filed away in the jam-packed drawers I keep in the darkest recesses of my mind. I locked those drawers then set them alight for good measure.

Looking over my shoulder, I check the loading bay one last time. Still empty. Yet it feels like something is snapping at my heels. And I’m not talking about Xander. This is something invisible. Perhaps it’s not even real. But it’s catching up to me nonetheless.

I walk fast, a painfully tight grip on the backpack. It’s still early for deliveries, but the sooner I can offload this shit and hide from the inevitable disgruntlement of those who will go without, the better.

Finding my usual CCTV blind spot, I rest against the tree’s thick trunk and place the backpack at my feet after removing what I need to add to Noah’s stock. It’s taken several weeks to build a decent pile.

I’m deep in thought and attempting to calm myself when the tap, tap, tap of Raine’s approach startles me. He’s wearing different jeans today, these ones boasting a rip in the left knee that adds to his edgy vibe.

“Different shampoo?” he offers in greeting.

Weirdo.

“It’s Rae’s. I’m out.”

Nodding, he continues towards me. “Just don’t change the papaya body wash. I’ll never be able to find you.”

“Good to know. I may need to disappear sometime soon.”

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