Chapter 66
I sigh.
Right.
Bleeding head wound.
Moderate brain injury.
“We could call an ambulance. Say we found him here,” I say. “His proof’s gone, and I doubt he’s going to try this again.”
Adrian’s body stiffens against mine, and his expression turns incredulous. “You intend to leave him alive?”
And now I’m the one stiffening in his embrace. “You don’t?” I gape.
His eyes narrow and his lips purse with displeasure. “Of course not. You leave him alive, and you’re leaving a loose end.”
Loose end.
That term elicits a certain type of déjà vu – that’s what he’d called Mickey, too.
I take a step back, unable to think clearly in the fog of Adrian’s calming scent. “But he’s…” I glance toward Ian’s body. “This isn’t his fault.”
“He cornered you in a garage and held you at knife-point,” Adrian says flatly. “I’d kill him for that alone.”
My throat tightens. “But I did this to him. I mean, you watched the video. I’m not the victim here. Whatever happened this morning…I drove him to it.” I close my eyes, picturing the fury that danced in Ian’s eyes, his manic laugh. “I stole his future. He was supposed to go to Lionswood.”
“And now he’s a weed,” Adrian adds. “You might’ve plucked his spirit this morning, but it’ll grow back eventually. He’ll get angry again. He’ll want vengeance. Maybe a month from now. Maybe a year. Maybe ten years. Maybe –”
“No!” I’m shaking again. “No. I can’t do this. I can’t do that.” Nausea curdles my stomach. “I’m already a cheater. I’ve already ruined his life. I can’t –” I choke on the thought. “Take it too.”
“Sweetheart.” He approaches, his voice as soft as butter, like I’m a cornered animal gearing up to bolt from him. “He’s already gravely injured.”
I blink at him. “You called it a moderate injury.”
“That’ll most certainly turn grave without proper treatment.”
“No. Absolutely not. I’m not going to –”
“You don’t have to do,” he says quietly, and it takes me a moment to comprehend what he’s saying. What he’s offering.
“No,” I breathe. “No, I don’t want you to do that. I could never ask you to do that.”
His mouth curves into a sardonic smile. “You’ve got a lot of moral hang-ups for someone that could’ve called the cops, but instead, called me.”
I open my mouth to argue, but a pained groan cuts through the air, and we both swivel to the source.
A few more soft groans escape Ian’s mouth as he regains consciousness.
My breath hitches. “Ian –”
“How’re you feeling?” Adrian reaches Ian before I do, hovering over him at his full height. “Do you remember what happened?”
Oh God.
Ian blinks groggily, like the world’s coming into focus for the first time. “Uh…” His gaze lands on Adrian. “Who’re you?”
“You shouldn’t try to get up,” Adrian tells him. “You have a head wound.”
Ian blinks again. “I have a…” And then his gaze lands on me, and I see it – the exact moment his confusion clears, and he remembers, at the very least, why he’s so angry with me.
Adrian sees it too.
“He remembers enough,” he retorts. “Now, shall I tie up this loose end for you?” He glowers at Ian with such frigid intensity that even I shiver. “I think I'd enjoy it.”
“What…” Ian’s too drowsy to properly understand what Adrian’s saying, but I do.
I grab Adrian’s arm as if I might physically stop him. “No.”
To his credit, he doesn’t shake me off – but he does shoot me a mildly disappointed glance. “You know it as well as I do: weeds need to be pulled out by the roots.”
“I’ve already taken enough from him,” I murmur for Adrian’s ears only. “Please don’t make me live with taking anything else.” Still, I can’t stop him from killing Ian. If push comes to shove, I’m not going to pull any heroics.
I’m going to stand by and let it happen like the coward I am.
But please don’t make me any more of a coward than I already am.
There’s the slight furrowing of his brow, a flicker of something unknown, and then –
Resolution.
“Alright, sweetheart,” he concedes. “We’ll do it your way.”
There’s no time for the relief to settle before he’s turned his attention to Ian, every ounce of softness gone. “Here’s what going to happen, Ian Creasey.”
Still disoriented, Ian stares up at him. “I don’t even know who you –” An Italian loafer to the throat severs the rest of his sentence.
My jaw joins my stomach on the floor. “Adrian –”
“You’ll want to listen closely, Ian. I’m not going to repeat myself.”
I’ve heard a hundred variations of Adrian’s voice, but I have never heard the torrent of deadly calm that’s coming out of his mouth now.
It’s like the calm before the hurricane. The uneasy silence in the forest when the birds flee, and the bugs stop buzzing, and your body recognizes it's in the presence of an apex predator long before you see it.
That’s what this moment is.
Just not for me.
Ian’s eyes widen till they’re practically bulging out of his head. He grapples with the weight of Adrian’s shoe on his neck, but to no avail.
“Do try to be still,” Adrian chides him mockingly. “You could have a skull fracture. A bruised brain. The more you flop around, the more you’ll exacerbate the injury.”
Ian stills beneath his shoe.
Adrian lets up, but his foot remains in place. One well-aimed stomp away from crushing Ian’s windpipe.
“What are you…” Ian gasps.
“I’m going to offer you a deal,” Adrian tells him. “It’s far more than I think you deserve, but it’s not for you.”
A deal?
“Four years ago, you were cheated out of an education at Lionswood,” he explains, and surprise flares over Ian’s features. “You missed out on school uniforms, Connecticut winters, and rich girls that’d tote you around like a new handbag for a week. So, now you’re slighted. You’re angry. You’re vengeful.”
Ian’s eyes slide toward me, the subject of his disdain, but only for a moment because then he’s gasping for air again.
“Keep your filthy eyes off her,” Adrian snaps. “You don’t get look at her.”
Ian obeys, immediately shifting toward Adrian, and the weight comes off.
I wait to be appalled by Adrian’s vicious display – disgusted even – but that is not what sparks in my lower belly.
No, no, no.
That did not turn me on.
“As I was saying,” Adrian continues, oblivious to my plight. “You want justice. I assume that’s what the video was meant to be. You were going to send it out, ensure Poppy never gets to graduate, and soak in your lingering resentment for years to come.”
Ian appears like he’s attempting to narrow his eyes, but in his current predicament, it comes out looking like a twitch instead.
“Fortunately for you, I’m going to offer you something better than justice,” Adrian says. “Compensation.”
Shock colors my expression.
Compensation?