Page 47 of Resurrect Me

He folds his arms over his chest, knife at his side, and says, “why not me? Instead, you chose Sol that night. Why?”

“Because I loved Sol the moment I laid eyes on him. I still love him,” I say. I want to tell him he’s a rancid mother fucker, but that would only incite him further. And something’s telling me I need to stay calm. I need to wait for the right moment to snatch that knife. “Next?”

“Love at first sight. Sounds like bullshit to me. But whatever. My next question is…why did you start digging into Duselizab?”

I clear my throat. “I put two and two together when multiple patients of mine started dying. It’s not hard to figure out a pattern…one of my patients was taking a medication and died with the same symptoms as another patient who also died. And then another. It only took a bit of research to see all my young, healthy patients were prescribed this drug and that their condition worsened afterward. They came to the hospital for help, and the doctors prescribed more of it. Eventually…killing them.”

“Why do you…of all people…care if people are dying?”

I swallow and glare at him. “What does that mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, Tacy MacFee,” he drops my maiden name. I haven’t heard that name in years. Wanted to bury it. Keep it in the past forever.

“I’m sure I don’t, Declan Harvey.”

“You’re a murderer. Depraved. Blood thirsty. Just like Solomon.”

“Then I’m in good company, aren’t I?”

He huffs. Then pulls up a chair beside me. “I guess so.”

I glance down at his jeans pocket. There’s a long, cylindrical object within it. About three inches in length. Half an inch in diameter. Maybe it’s his tiny dick, but doubtful. It’s a syringe.

Declan rests his head on my shoulder. “I thought we were close, Tacy. Don’t you care about my wellbeing? My happiness? You always said you loved me.”

“I cared for you, sure,” I say through clenched teeth. The cuffs dig into my wrists as I try to free them. I’ve gotten out of cuffs before…a little game Sol and I used to play in the bedroom. I have unusually small hands and double-jointed fingers. And loads of practice. “But you lost that love, our friendship, when you had someone abduct me. When that psychopath tried to kill me.”

I shrug my shoulder and push him off me. He leans back in the chair, knife resting in his lap, one hand gripping the back of my neck. He’s displaying his dominance. Like I’m a dog and he’s the owner. Too bad for him, I bite back.

“You mean, your ex-boyfriend? I thought maybe you’d be happy to see him.”

Shit. He knows. “Happy? Why would I be fucking happy to see Orion Starkey? He’s a piece of shit. One of the worst dirtbags I’ve ever known in my life. The most disgusting, vile…”

“I was going to make you a deal, Tacy.” He runs his hand over the back of my head, his fingers getting stuck in a knot in my hair. To which he abruptly rips loose, making me squeal.

“Mother fucker!”

“What, Tacy? I thought you could take the abuse. Seems like you can’t. You’re just a scared little girl, aren’t you?”

“Enough of this bullshit, Declan. What’s the deal?”

“To join me, my cause, and reap all the rewards.”

“So, you were going to offer me a deal while I was strapped to a fucking bucket in Starkey’s disgusting ass basement? Covered in my own piss and blood and sweat? You think I would’ve accepted your fucking deal? You’re an idiot, Declan. Dumber now than when I met you.”

He hisses, stands, and slaps me again. This time so hard I see red stars. Warm fluid drips off my cheek and into my lap. I gulp and look at the time. It’s two o’clock. Pick up time. My poor kids. And where is fucking Aris? Wasn’t he supposedly stalking me? Watching me? Then I remember. The camera in the corner of the kitchen. I glance over. The tiny green light is flashing, which means…it’s on. Wouldn’t Declan have noticed that? He knew I had cameras put up, because Orion disabled them during the power outage that day he abducted me. Did Dee just forget?

“He was supposed to bring you to me. And then I would let you decide.”

“Decide to join you? You sound like a fucking cliché villain straight out of a cheesy-ass movie, Declan. You must know that.”

“Decide whether you’d want to live or die,” he says and holds the knife to my throat. “You weren’t supposed to get away. Starkey wasn’t supposed to die. Nor was he supposed to treat you in such a manner. Speaking of…howdidyou get away, Tacy? Hmm? You didn’t kill Starkey yourself. Someone helped you, right?”

I close my eyes and focus on the pain. In my body and in my mind. In my heart. It’s the pain that drives me. It always has. So, instead of running from it, I lean into it.

“No one helped me. I killed the asshole myself,” I growl. “He had it coming.”

“I don’t believe you,” he whispers in my ear. His knife tip presses into the skin above my carotid artery. “You know what I think? You had a savior. A protector.”

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