“Please!” she shrieks. “Don’t hurt my baby! Please!”
Suddenly there is a revolver in my hand.
KILL! KILL! KILL!
I cock the gun and point it at her head.
Flash. Thunder. Smoke.
Chapter Four
Willow
Phones softly ring around me. Papers rustle. Keys clack. A litany of sounds all converges in my ears to tell me just how monotonous everything is around here.
It’s so much better than what I had to face three days ago.
My phone rings, and I lift it mechanically. “Austin Real Estate.”
An inquiry about a property.Wonderful. Rattle off that information in a professional tone, wish them a good day, and hang up. New emails blink on the screen of my computer. I maneuver the mouse toward them, clicking on the icon to make it stop bouncing.
It’s another inquiry. The same stuff as ever. It’s all the same things I’m used to doing. It should feel like routine, safety, and security.
But it doesn’t. I don’t feel safe. I can’t shake this weird tickle of paranoia in my chest.
Bullet wounds look different in person.
I shake my head and tousle my hair, trying to act normal.
Who else in the office had to watch somebody die over the weekend? No one? Just me? Okay, great.
I try to blink away the pictures in my mind. They aren’t moving or anything. They’re just these weird movie stills that somebody blew up and decided to wave over my vision.
Got to get Pam on that property out in Long Island—Jonas’s head snapping back—and then tell Daddy about that guy that wants to intern here, Steve—Jonas’s body hitting the ground—I should get Chipotle for lunch or something—Jonas’s blood pooling everywhere—maybe Daddy will want something.
My fingers freeze on the keyboard.
Real life mixing with monotony. It’s not a pretty scene. I’m trying to type up a report while considering whether or not I have the stomach for lunch. If I see anything spill out of that burrito, I might barf.
Okay, not Chipotle. Maybe a poke bowl.
I gag while closing my eyes.
Maybe I’ll just go vegetarian. How about that? Thanks, Liya. You converted me.
The cursor blinks on the screen. A million little words wait at the tip of my fingers, all of them directed at my best friend.
How thehellwas Liya capable of doing something like that?
Technically, she didn’t do a thing. Jonas attacked her, practically beat her to a damn pulp before those two men stepped in. And then Pavel defended her. He looked to her for permission. He waited for her to answer without saying so much as a word.
And then she nodded.
There’s self-defense, and then there’s just brutality.
So many words. My fingers ache to type them.
But I can’t do it.