Page 233 of The Night Shift
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Cami says. “Sorry to break up your little reunion, but I’m in a bit of a time crunch. I’ve had a long fucking day, so I’d like to get this over with by dawn and well —” her voice tilts into something bright, “— there’s gonna besomuch cleaning up to do.” She turns to face me. “Feeling better, babe? Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you. This isn’t about you.” She jerks her chin toward Theo. “It’s abouthim.”
My pulse jackknifes.
“What the fuck is going on, Cami?” I fight the restraints harder now. My headache flares like someone lit a match in my skull. “Why are you doing this?”
“Doing what? I’m not doing anything.” She crouches, tucks a piece of sweaty hair behind my ear. “If anything,youdid this.”
“Don’t fucking touch her,” Theo growls, blood dried and caked on his face like war paint.
Cami’s smile drops clean off. Her head snaps toward him. She lifts something between two fingers — a little black pager-like remote, dainty between her pink nails. “This won’t end well for you either way, but if you open your mouth again it’ll just behorrificallypainful.”
My stomach lurches.
“Wh-what is that? What do you mean by that? Why is he even here? Cami, just let him go. Please. He has nothing to do with this —”
“He haseverythingto do with this!” she screams. “God, you really don’t know anything, do you? Doesn’t matter. I’ve got it all handled.”
She waltzes over to a chunk of the warehouse wall where rusted metal panels stretch up toward the rafters. Then she points.
“You see that, Hol? That little hinge thingy? Yeah, that one. I rigged it myself — well, okay, I watched like twelve hours of YouTube and practiced on a CPR dummy, but still.”
What the fuck is going on?
“It’s a pressure-release mechanism. Like in that movie — what was it? With the pit of needles and acid buckets? Fuck, I forgot. Anyway, I tweaked it. And if lover boy here so much as shifts wrong or pisses me off —”
Click.She mimes pressing the button.
“Wham. Instant facial reconstruction via axe. Split right down the middle like a melon. Messy, I know, but it’ll be so pretty to watch. And I know how much you love blood.”
My mouth is dry. My chest burns. And Theo…
Theo doesn’t flinch. He just glares at her like he’s deciding which tendon he’ll cut first when he gets free. Like the only thing that really pissed him off was her touching me.
“You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find the right counterweights,” she goes on. “But once I got the balance justright? Flawless. I even tested it on a bunch of shelter cats. It worked so well.” She grins at me like she expects applause.
I stare at her. Horrified. Silent.
“What?” she says, blinking. “Ugh, please, Holly, they werehomelessandunloved. And so ugly too. If anything, I did them a favor.”
Then her eyes flick to Theo.
“The only undeserving kitty I’ve killed lately is the one your alleged man was babysitting a few days ago.” Her voice perks up again. “Hope I didn’t do any permanent damage to your hand. I know how obsessed you surgeons are with those.”
She giggles and my body goes still. All of me. Even the shallow rise and fall of my chest stops.
“Youkilled Parker’s cat?” My voice cracks. "You…youbroke Theo’s hand?”
Cami shrugs like we’re talking about knocking over a glass of wine.
Something inside me ruptures.
More tears come. Hot and shaking. My face burns and I can’t stop them.
This is Cami. My best friend. My only friend.
I want to kill her. I want to tear through the restraints and rip her to pieces. I want blood. I want answers. I want to understand how someone who once knew every version of me — broken, tired, laughing, alive — could do this.
My mind is stuck in a loop:Why? Why? Why?
