Page 58 of The Road to Ruined

And when I look again, Declan is gone.

I sit at the edge of the bed near his feet.

"She has some really pretty clothes," I say. "Can I take some more of them?"

"No. I shouldn't even let you take those."

"But you're going to?"

He doesn't reply.

"I kind of felt sorry for her. Do you know what her name was?"

"Sonia," he says.

"She said her family sold her. She was sad…and lonely…like me. But she was broken in a way you can't fix; she was always going to hurt people. I think maybe I put her out of her misery. I could have done it a little faster, though."

"Taking children is one of The Order's favorite ways to collect debts," he says. "But you're right. She was broken."

"I hate it when you just leave me like you did before," I tell him. "It feels really bad. Declan and Luca never did that to me. I can't…I want to go home tonight."

"Is that what you and your imaginary boyfriend were talking about?" he mocks.

"No. He was just telling me how pretty and sweet I am."

"I don't think you should go home, Teagan," he says. "Ever."

I turn, facing him. "What? Why not?"

"Because you're broken, too. Like me, like Sonia. I told you what's going to happen—you're going to kill again."

"No. I'm different because I was born like this. I'm not broken; I can fight it. I have…self-awareness."

"Maybe before you could. But you've got more of a taste for it now, don't you? And you're good at it. What else are you this good at?"

"I—"

"There's no finger in the proverbial dam anymore, Teagan. You're long past controlling it. I know there's a part of you that still believes you can have some type of normal existence, but you're wrong. The part of you that still craves love and acceptance is wrong, too. You don't need that, either."

I scoff. "You're barely human. How could you know what I need?"

"Because I've been watching you for months, Teagan. You need a place and a purpose—that's all anyone needs. The Order can give you that. You can disappear, move through the world without fear, always protected. You can keep scratching that itch that will never go away."

"But I won't have a face or a name."

"No, you won't. But there's freedom in that, too."

"Do I have a choice?"

"You do. But it isn't much of one, is it? Where are you going to go? Who will you ever be able to tell your secrets to?"

"I still need other things."

"You think you do," he says, bringing a hand to caress my cheek. "It'll fade. I promise. You'll stop caring; it'll stop hurting, too. Won't that be a relief?"

I nod. "Yes."

Another masked man appears in the doorway gesturing to his wrist as if pointing at a watch. As Bone Saw stands, the other man leaves.

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