Page 66 of Executing Malice
“Is that why you were there?”
“More or less. I went to check on her.”
“Am I in trouble?”
His sigh echoes through the speaker as I mount my phone to the dashboard.“No. I managed to talk them down. They were livid initially.”
“Well, it was an accident.”
“That’s what I told them. Anyway, swing by and maybe apologize again. Maybe bring some flowers or something.”
I stifle back my snort. The only thing snitches get is stitches, but I doubt Reed wants to hear that.
“Yeah, sure.”
We disconnect the call and I continue home with my head already fuming. I partially consider crawling in through her window and strangling her with her hair, but Reed is right. Killing her won’t solve anything. If anything, it would only create more paperwork. Plus, I’m not going to jail for that little bitch.
But this is a tomorrow problem, I decide. After the day I’ve already had, I don’t want to think about any of it anymore. It’s definitely a brain rot sort of day. Food, wine and a movie marathon.
I have nearly forgotten all about Jasper and Felicity by the time I pull into my driveway. I kill the engine, grab my bag and keys, and jog up the steps. The items are discarded on the hallway table as I hurry into the bedroom to swap my work clothes for loose shorts and my favorite house T-shirt. I run a brush through my hair and bunch up the strands into a loose knot at the top of my head.
In true movie marathon set up, I gather up blankets and pillows and dump them on the sofa. The coffee table is dragged to the opposite wall of the living room, leaving a wide-open space in front of the TV. I grab every snack I can get my hands on out of the cupboard, including the open bottle of wine I keep on hand for days like today. I pour myself a glass while I finish arranging everything. I even make a neat stack of chosen films next to the player and toss the remote on my makeshift bed.
I sip while I get comfortable.
Something about the tart flavor of crushed grapes and watchingMichael Myersin a mask gives me a warm, cozy feeling. Reed thinks I’m insane for having a thing for men in masks, butsomething aboutHalloweenas a franchise just does something to me. It tickles a part of my brain that feels familiar and safe.
“He’s a serial killer, Leila. You’re not supposed to feel safe,”Reed always mutters in that cop tone of his.
I roll my eyes and take a deeper gulp, already feeling the light buzz of alcohol on an empty stomach. The fruity dryness coats my tongue, and I let the glass hang loosely from my fingers as I crawl across the mound of blankets in search of the remote. I’m fully aware of my fumbling, the slight numbness in my fingertips as I set my drink down just in case. My vision sharpens, then blurs in slow pulses.
I blink and try to focus, mentally berating myself for drinking without food. I’m not exactly a lightweight, but ... a low thrum has started vibrating through my skull. It stays even with the prodding of my fingertips into my temples.
I scoot clumsily down the blankets and fall onto my stomach. My head barely hits the pillow before I slip under.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DANTE
––––––––
I’m not angry.
That’s important.
It’s there. I can feel the hot grit of ash at the back of my throat, taste it on my tongue now lubricated with blood. There is always so much blood when I get this way.
I lick it off my lips and glance down at the tattered edges of my knuckles. The raw and battered state of my fists, and sigh.
I hate losing my temper.
It’s a trait I got from both of my parents. The flaw in my makeup. The abnormality in my brain chemical. It’s the thing that made Leila run. It’s what scared her enough to leave me.
Maybe there were other things that solidified that decision, but...
I unfurl the stiff joints and wish I felt enough pain to regret my decision.
“This is your fault,” I tell the still figure at my feet. “I ... I was doing so well. I had it under control.” I wipe the speckles of blood sprayed across my cheeks with the back of my hand. “You just had to touch what was mine.”
