Page 72 of Wicked Deceit
“It was you the entire time.” My voice leaks out as cracked and pain-stricken, earning nothing but snickers in return.
Shock sits like lead in the depths of my turning stomach, threatening to spill my delicious Christmas dinner. Am I dumbfounded by the turn of events? Yes, I fucking am. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact it was her the entire time. Sure, she was shady as shit. But I never in my life suspected she was the one to murder my best friend. But why?
“Well, duh,” she says, rolling her blue eyes toward the ceiling in exasperation. “Did you think anyone else could do it? Huh? No. My daddy entrusted me with the task, and I did it. She was mine to have, and I finally had her. It’s just too bad it wasn’t the way I wanted her,” she growls the last part through clenched teeth as darkness shifts through her eyes.
“But why, Piper?” I whisper, turning my neck to look her in the eyes, pleading with any ounce of humanity she might have.
Her eyes roll again, shaking her head and letting me know she has none. She murdered my best friend for no reason and displayed no ounce of humanity. No soul is lying in the depths of her eyes now. In fact, there’s nothing at all but a monster staring back at me with no emotions. Months and months of memories flash through my mind, replaying every interaction we've had together. The laughs and how she talks bring me to a screeching realization. She was pretending to fit in and seem normal. But right now? Piper no longer has to pretend that she cares or possesses any feelings in front of me. The jig is up, and my time has run out. Our only audience is the other two standing off to the side in the shadows of my room, looking on with grins.
“You want to know why? Because that bitch you called your best friend rejected me. REJECTED ME!” She hisses in my face, pressing the knife harder into my skin. More warm blood rolls down my neck and stains the edges of my shirt. “I loved her first! ME! And then she left me for that bitch. So, Daddy let me make her pay. I made her pay so good, didn’t I? Did you see her face? Huh? Did you see it? It was so beautiful. So, so fucking beautiful. So beautiful. I want to do it again.” She sighs dreamily, looking toward the ceiling with ill intent in her eyes. It’s like she’s going through the memories of her kill and reliving them.
“Calm your tits, Piper.” My body jumps as a hand grabs my shirt, pulling me to my wobbly feet. “You aren’t supposed to damage the merchandise. Which is too bad.” Oscar’s hand wraps around my throat, toying with the blood pouring from the wound and coating his fingers. His fingers dip towards my collar bone, groaning as the blood soaks his fingertips. “Maybe we could play first? Death will never know,” he purrs, running his nose up and down my neck with sick intent.
I swallow hard, trying to erase the feeling of his fingers touching parts he shouldn’t touch—panic bubbles in my chest. If I don’t deescalate this situation, I’m in trouble. They could do anything to me without anyone knowing, and I'd be defenseless. Despite the boys teaching me how to kick and punch to defend myself, I'm not able to. No one tells you how bad you freeze up when you're pulled into situations like this. My mind stalls, but I know I need to make a move and keep them talking. They're the ones with the answers to everything.
“So Magnolia was yours to kill?” I ask, ignoring the burning hand running up and down my body, taking his fill of what he's always wanted—me.
It could be worse. They could stab me. They could kill me. Stay fucking calm. I repeat the phrase in my head over and over. If I do, maybe I’ll believe it. Stay calm so I don’t hyperventilate. Stay calm so I don’t cry and miss important information. Focus. Ignore the burning tears in your eyes. Ignore everything except the answers you need.
“Oscar!” Piper hisses, hitting him on the side of the head. “Knock that shit off. She is not yours.” Oscar stops, growling against my flesh. His fingers flex around my neck, tightening and loosening.
“She fucking could have been!” He hisses back, bringing my body flush against his like a possessive freak. “She could have been. And then things would have been different.”
“Next time.” Piper grins. “This one is his.” She runs a finger down my jaw. “Yes, Magnolia was mine. Mine to fuck, mine to kill. And it was beautiful, so fucking beautiful.”
Calm down. Breathe. Don’t panic—please don’t panic now. I need to keep them talking and give me answers. My chest burns with breaths I’m desperate to take, and I gasp for air.
“Why her? Why did it happen?” I ask in a breathy whisper, begging her for answers.
Piper’s giggles explode through the room again as she does a gleeful happy dance. If I weren’t in a chokehold, threatened by these two psychos, I’d throat punch her. I plan to do that later. You know, when I’m not on the verge of dying.
“You ask a lot of nosey little questions for a dead girl walking.” She boops my damn nose with the tip of the large knife in her hands, nicking the end with a burn.
Close up; the knife has jewels adorning the handle. They glimmer in the lights of the room. Her hand barely fits around the handle. Something about it seems familiar. I’ve seen it before—before it stabbed my best friend—but I can’t place it. And I can’t get lost in my head right now. My life depends on it. And Chase. Chase! He’s here, too. Crap. My sunshine! Where the hell is he? Have they hurt him?
“It happened because it had to happen. She deserved to die. Daddy said so, so it happened. Whatever Daddy says goes," she babbles on, making my stomach churns more.
Taking a deep breath, I blow out my bubbling panic. If I can keep her talking and distracting her, maybe I can get away. Maybe I can escape their clutches because I have a gut-wrenching feeling that a death sentence awaits me if I let them take me to a second location. I'll become what so many of their victims have become—dead. I have to keep myself safe to keep Chase alive—wherever he is.
“And what? The daddy you screw says it’s time for me to die? For what?” I spit, trying to antagonize her into more confessions. I want her emotions so high that she makes a mistake and slips up so I can escape Oscar’s wandering hands and grab Chase, wherever he is. My heart drops again and sorrow takes over. Chase. My poor Chase.
Piper’s crazed grin spreads her lips so wide. Her pupils dilate as she giggles more. I cringe from the sound, and more flashbacks bring me back to the crazy voice at the car crash.
'We killed the rabbit!' And that giggle sets my teeth on edge, and more panic bubbles in my gut. My breaths heave, but I force myself to calm down.
One breath in. One breath out.
Piper steps forward, running the blade down my cheek. “Daddy says it’s time for you to meet your end. It’ll be slow and painful, and I’ll enjoy watching every minute. You’re a big hot-ticket item. More than Magnolia. More than all those other idiots. After your sweet, sweet death, I’ll roll around in my money, fucking my daddy, and won’t think twice about it.” With every word she speaks, my stomach twists and rolls.
I wince, backing away from the tip of the knife cutting into the flesh of my cheek. Piper’s words bounce around my head—big-ticket item? What the hell is that supposed to mean? More blood trickles down my cheek as the pad of her tongue runs along my flesh, lapping away at it. Her pleasure-filled moans fill the room as she swallows every drop. Bile turns in my stomach when she wipes her lips and grins more.
“God, you’re so delicious. I bet he can’t wait to taste you like this.” She giggles again, giddily hopping in place with excitement.
“Who? Who do you keep talking about?” I ask, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. They keep mentioning him. I’m almost afraid to know.
“The fourth horseman, of course! I bet you’ve been so curious about who he is! It’s someone you know and love! Ahh! When you see him, you’ll know! But until then, you’re ours. Now, be a good little bitch and get in the trunk.” Her face tightens with every word as she speaks, and any ounce of her peppy self disappears.
The knife in her hand points toward a large, old-fashioned traveling trunk, carried into the room by a smug-looking Trent. Great. This asshole again. Hasn’t he fallen off a building yet?
