There’s so much to learn.
I’ve been watching, though. I’m prepared for the real world, for the rest of my life.
My only regret is Harper.
I underestimated her. She was supposed to be an easy target. An unwanted Darling, one we could take all the way. Mabel had too much power, even when she was powerless. She had a name, a reputation among the families, at the school.
Harper had nothing. She was the one.
As soon as I saw her blowing that teacher, I knew she’d be the one we could finally end. Not just leave them to suffer, the way Royal likes.
It wasn’t enough.
Not because of anything she’d done, but because of what I hadn’t.
I remember the first time I saw a man die. I remember my uncle holding him down in the water. I wondered what he felt in that moment—not the dying man, but my uncle. As he watched the life drain from the man’s eyes, the realization sink into the man that his life was over, what did he feel?
He must have felt like a god.
That’s what I wanted. Once, when I was fucking Mabel, I choked her until she passed out. I’m not some creep who likes his women unresponsive, like Cotton. But for a minute, I thought she was dead. I’ve never cum harder in my life.
I didn’t quite dare kill her, though. I didn’t want to.
Harper was a fresh start. She was no one. Someone who could disappear without anyone making a fuss. She was the perfect target.
The perfect victim.
I thought it would be harmless to have a little fun with her first. I didn’t count on Royal falling for her.
That’s where everything can go wrong, the one variable that cannot be controlled for no matter how much you’ve studied, how many game tapes you’ve watched, how predictable people usually are. Once in a while, they catch feelings, and everything falls apart. Chaos ensues.
The shit she pulled this year was nothing. I could have dealt with it if she didn’t have Royal’s protection. Of course she couldn’t topple our empire at Willow Heights. We played football, and football is god in Faulkner, so we were gods. But I want to be a god in a different way. I want to hold life in my hands.
It should have been her life. It shouldn’t have happened the way it did. I kept trying to find ways to bring it back under control—blowing up Royal’s engine so he’d remember he hated all Darlings, revealing the texts she’d sent me as Mr. D. But no matter what I did, he kept being pulled back into her orbit as if magnetized by her gravity.
I should have just killed her in the swamp. I didn’t want to do it in front of the others, though. They might have interfered. And it was somehow private, something I wanted to keep all for myself. She was my find. My kill.
She was never supposed to be Royal’s.
He wasn’t supposed to want her, to claim her.
Not because I’m jealous, but because some things are just for me. I’m a selfish bastard like that.
It wasn’therthat I wanted to keep, though.
It was her death.
Not even Duke could share that. I didn’t want him to question my methods. I didn’t want him or Dawson to look at me differently. I didn’t want any witnesses, not even my brother. No one could know what I’d done, so I let them think I spared her.
But I went back for her.
Royal thinks he’s the only one who went back, but I went back, too.
He couldn’t find her. He was too out of it to pay attention to where we were going that night, but I was sharper than I’d ever been, more alive.
I knew exactly where we left her. We’d found our way back in the dark with Dawson. It was easy in daylight.
I pictured what I’d do as I made my way to the tree. I didn’t want to do it too quickly. I needed to pinpoint the moment life ended. Strangulation seemed the best option. That way, I’d have just enough time to feel the struggle, to feel her fighting and to earn the win, when my life triumphed over hers. I wanted to feel it end, to feel the power of a god in my hands as I took her life from her body. I wanted to see life turn to death, up close and personal, like my uncle had. She would be my first kill.