Finn
This is bullshit.
Complete. And. Utter. Bullshit.
Lexie’s killer can’t be out there.
He can’t be free.
It’s not possible.
The guy had two years left. They wouldn’t release him two years early, would they? It’s like the air in my lungs is poisonous. Like the panic brewing inside me is an inflating balloon, taking up every inch of space in my rib cage as I grab Dia’s phone to read Chance’s other messages.
Chance: Dia, pick up the phone.
Chance: It was a setup. Bastard escaped while he was getting transferred.
Chance: Tell Finn to watch his back.
I’m gripping her phone so tightly I can barely feel my hands anymore. Blood draining from my knuckles, I drop Dia’s phone back onto the bed and hurry to the door. She went downstairs minutes ago. She should’ve been back by now.
“Dia?” Her name rolls off my tongue like a plea.
No answer.
“Dia?” I shout again, waiting for her to appear at the top of the stairs with a heart-stopping smile on her face and a bottle of apple cider in her hand. She’s going to answer me. Any moment now. She’s going to walk up those stairs and laugh at me for being paranoid.
Come on, baby, answer me.
Answer me, Dia, please.
My stomach sinks at the sound of water running in the background. It’s not like her to leave her bath unattended. She’s always on my case about wasting water. There’s no way.
Something’s wrong.
I should probably think this through, use common sense and plan my next move carefully, but the sensible part of me is nothing but a tiny voice in the back of my head as I come to terms with the gravity of the situation.
We have a vindictive killer on the loose, and now my girlfriend’s not answering me.
No fucking way this is a coincidence.
I can hear my heart pulsing in my brain as I exit the room and bolt down the stairs. I’ve just reached the first floor when a strong scent fills my nostrils. My breathing spikes when it hits me.
Is that… gasoline?
“Look who’s decided to join us.” His voice sounds like a death sentence.
Definitive.
Unavoidable.
I always knew this moment would come. I guess I was stupid to think I could keep Dia away from the crossfire.
My fists roll into white-knuckled weapons when I turn around and see Joel, Lexie’s killer, squeezing Dia’s throat with one hand and pointing a gun to her temple with the other. I can’t fucking breathe, my thoughts blending together into a chaotic spiral. I did this. I pissed him off, and now he’s going to take my girl away.
My baby.
My Gem.