Page 119 of Die for You
Monica sticks by my side the rest of the afternoon, but she doesn’t say much. The few times we talk, our conversation is always centered on Aurora.
I peek over her shoulder while she posts to social media to ask strangers to help with the search. She responds to the flood of comments, directing people where they can report any sightings and how they can help spread the word.
Just because Monica and I have a murky past doesn’t mean she holds any animosity toward Aurora. She was willing to help Aurora before, and now she’s willing to help again.
For once, Monica actually seems genuine. Seems to really care that Aurora is missing. Maybe she’s right—maybe she’s not the monster she used to be. I’ve changed since high school. I’ve changed a lot. Maybe she has too.
For the sake of whatever guy falls into her trap next, I hope that’s true.
Chapter 33
Aurora
I’ve losttrack of time when the basement door finally creaks open.
How many hours have I been here? Days? My throat is parched. I’ve never been thirstier or hungrier in my life. Even my vision already seems to be worsening in the minuscule amount of light that trickles in under the door. Not even a single window in this dank, empty basement to remind me of the world outside these four walls.
The glass of stale water still sits out of reach, a form of torture I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I won’t last much longer without water. My mind is already hazy from dehydration, the world slightly off kilter.
But dehydration is the least of my problems now.
Every ominous step that groans down the wooden staircase makes dread pool in my belly.
Jeremiah finally got what he wanted. Me, all to himself. The Devils nowhere around to save me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to bear witness to him descending the stairs and reaching me. Touching me. Calling my name. Hurting me in all the ways he’s been fantasizing about since I left.
My stomach sinks lower and lower with the vibration of every step he takes closer to me. Until he comes to a halt. The soft pop of his knee as he crouches in front of me, and I finally dare to open my eyes.
But it’s not Jeremiah in front of me.
Monica pulls the gag from my mouth with a smile.
I cough a few times, my mouth a desert, before I manage to choke out a single word. “You?”
Monica is the one who brought me here. She’s the one who knocked me out and kidnapped me. The one who broke into our house and stole my stuff. Is she the one who’s been harassing us? My mind races, but I can’t figure out why.
“Me.” She bats her lashes, and she sounds so peppy, so cheerful, that anyone who overheard her wouldn’t suspect she’s holding me here against my will.
“Why are you doing this?” My wrists pull at the zip tie binding them together. Another futile attempt at escape. “Why the fuck did you bring me here?”
She sighs. “He wouldn’t give you up. But he and I are meant to be. You have two other men you want—you could’ve just had them. But no, you had to be greedy. I want Knox.”
Jesus, this is all about getting back with Knox? She really thinksthisis the way to win him over? Monica doesn’t even realize how psychotic she truly is. “Well, he doesn’t wantyou. And I don’t exactly have control over that.”
“Maybe not. But with you out of the picture, he won’t have much of a choice.” Her smile is somehow still pleasant. Which only makes it all the more unsettling. “And I’ll be the one to help him look for his missing girlfriend. After a few weeks, he’ll realize you’re not coming back, and he’ll see how much I’ve changed. I’m not the monster he’s created me to be in his head—I’m a good person who helps him look for a missing girl, who’s always there to comfort him when he needs it. He’ll realize thegirl he really wants has been right under his nose the whole time.”
She’s beyond delusional if she believes Knox could ever fall for her lies and manipulation again. But my chest still squeezes with worry. Without me, with his heart broken, Knox will be more vulnerable than ever. Vulnerable to her deception and gaslighting.
“You’re going to Juilliard, right?” Her finger roves casually over the rim of the glass just out of reach. “Maybe if you promise to stay away from Knox, cut ties with him completely, I’ll let you go.”
I don’t bother asking how she knows about Juilliard. I snort. “You wouldn’t bring me here if you planned to let me go. I knew you were fucked-up, Monica, but I didn’t think you were a killer.”
No wonder Knox fell for her act when they were younger. That night she’d rescued me from Jeremiah, she convinced me that she had a little good in her. I was wrong.
“I’m not a murderer.” She grabs the glass of water and brings it to my lips.
I study the glass. Desperation to chug every drop seizes me. But what if she put something in the water? She obviously put something on that rag she used to cover my mouth and nose. Of course she’d tell me she’s not a murderer to lure me into a false sense of security before she makes me drink poison. So she can get me out of her way, permanently.
