Wrecked

Brennan Callahan

I was never a good child. My previous foster families – twelve, to be exact – said I was a menace. A terror. My teachers claimed I was truly disturbed. My pediatricians said I suffered from an imbalance due to something my mother did during my gestation. My psychiatrists and counselors reported that I was a psychopath.

The last are the ones that got it right.

But you see though, I was probably born this way – my childhood provides plenty of evidence to affirm such a claim – I’ve changed over the years. I became obsessed with Xan when we were kids, the day she told my foster family that I would never hurt her. That she trusted me. Unwise of her, perhaps, for at that time, I was indifferent to her. She was a means to an end that day. I’d been trying to find a plausible way to get rid of that damned mutt who’d bitten Wade as we were walking home from school. Not once, but three separate occasions. The owners needed to be put down, too. I liked my foster family, so I didn’t want to chance being sent to another.

It had chased her into our yard and up a tree, where it kept jumping to try and take another bite out of her. She was already bleeding. It seemed as good as any excuse I’d ever have. Well… incidents that afternoon led to one dead dog and the beginning of my obsession with the quiet girl next door.

Later, I fell in love with her. Xan and her stepbrother, Issy, and my foster brother, Wade. They were all mine. Issy and Wade had come around, but Xan… she didn’t know. It didn’t change the fact that she was mine. It simply meant that I needed to get rid of the obstacle in my way. Her abusive, manipulative boyfriend, Brennan.

Contrary to what everyone might think, thirteen is not an unlucky number. It was my thirteenth foster family who loved me, who showed me a good home and support and unconditional love.

That’s probably why I never hurt them.

The real thing you ought to know is that, right now, I’m on a mission to burn everyone who has ever wrecked our girl. I don’t mean that figuratively. I’m going to light their sorry asses on fire and watched them die slow, agonizing deaths. I’m going to let their screams heal the wounds they inflicted on Xan and satisfy my need to punish anyone who’s ever hurt my girl.

For her, we will burn them all.

Parker Residence, age 8

Azlan Deth

The house we pulled up in front of was probably one of the largest I’d been to. And I’d been to my share. At eight, this was foster home number thirteen.

As the social worker, Lydia Cocarro, pulled into the drive, I stared at the house. It was a large two and a half story craftsman. Yes, at eight I knew what a craftsman house was. I knew a lot of things that an eight-year-old shouldn’t. For instance, did you know you can cause muscle damage with a fork if you dig it in deep enough? My foster brother at home number five learned that the hard way.

And I found I had a penchant for hearing people scream.

“Let’s go, Azlan,” Lydia Cocarro said as she put it into park. “Do you have your bags?”

I met her eyes in the rearview mirror. Was that a serious question? Where did she think the bags were? And if she thought I’d left them behind, maybe she should have asked before we arrived.

Adults were stupid.

This home would be no different.

I didn’t answer Lydia Cocarro as I opened the door. I paused for a minute, looking at the huge house. There were eight windows running along the second floor. Did that mean eight rooms? How many kids were there and why were they taking another?

There were no trees close by, which was a shame, but there were some architectural details that I could possibly use to my advantage if I needed to escape. I’d made a very important decision when Lydia Cocarro picked me up from house number twelve. And it was quite simple.

I didn’t need a family. I needed to find a way to live on my own. Without being picked up by social services. And also, you know, eat with a roof over my head.

After another short pause in which I glanced at the house next door (not nearly as large but just as nice), I pulled my backpack out and slung it over my shoulder. I only had one other bag, a decent sized duffle that held all my clothes. Being a foster child since I was three, as one can imagine, I didn’t own a whole lot. The clothes I had were hand me downs, too large and too worn.

I wasn’t going to fit into this neighborhood, never mind this house and family.

Taking an irritated breath, I shut the door and rounded the car to follow Lydia Cocarro up the paved path to the front door. The stones leading up to the porch had freshly manicured clover between the hand-picked stones. She rang the bell as I stared at the large porch. There was furniture, but it also looked lived in. Not just something they’d set out for appearances. There were a pair of shoes, child sized. I’d probably fit into them.

There was a scooter and a bike, a book lying on the table. And a blanket balled up into one of the chairs, as if it had been discarded but they’d meant to come back.

“Their names are Jessica and Troy. They have a son your age, Wade. A year older, I believe,” Lydia Cocarro told me as we waited.

I didn’t answer. Primarily because it wasn’t a statement that required a response. And second, what response could she expect me to give her? Okay? Great? How do you spell that?

The door opened to a woman. She immediately sought me out, ignoring Lydia Cocarro, and smiled warmly. Only after she did, holding my gaze for a moment, did she look at my social worker. It was curious to see that her smile wasn’t nearly as warm for her.

“Hello, Ms. Cocarro,” the woman, I presumed to be Jessica Parker, said. “Did you find the house alright?”

“Yes, of course. I’ve been here before, Mrs. Parker.”

“Then why are you two hours late?”

Lydia Cocarro stared for a moment without answer. “I’m terribly sorry. I was held up at the office.”

“I see,” Jessica Parker said. “And your phone didn’t work? None of them?”

“Oh, my dear, I’m so -”

“We had plans, Ms. Cocarro, that you’ve now caused us to reschedule. I believe a little bit of courtesy goes a long way; don’t you think?”

I tilted my head, looking at Lydia Cocarro. Oh, she was cowed. It was amusing to see how her face flushed. A drop of sweat gathered at her temple. I could make out the slight increase in her pulse by the way her artery jumped at her neck.

On the other hand, I didn’t think I was going to do well here.

Jessica Parker turned her attention back to me. Immediately, her irritation vacated her face. The flash of anger in her eyes left and her entire expression softened. She smiled again and although I looked for it, I didn’t see that it was forced.

“Come in, Azlan,” she said. Even her voice was much more pleasant.

I walked around Lydia Cocarro, though I felt her at my back as she followed me in. There was paperwork to do. And always, the question of, “are you sure you want him?” was asked, just before Lydia Cocarro left.

They all thought they could break me. Too bad for them, I was already broken. All that was left was a dark, angry shadow that was fascinated with pain and fire.

Jessica Parker didn’t touch me. None of them ever touched me. Not since I was six and my foster family forced me into a room every night, locking me inside. When they found their animals staked on the finials of their wrought iron fence one morning, Lydia Cocarro had been called.

There was then a note in my file stating that I wasn’t good with animals.

“Azlan, this is my husband, Troy. And our son, Wade,” Jessica Parker told me as we entered the house.

Troy Parker was a tall, fit man wearing a suit. He had dark hair and dark eyes but like his wife, he had a friendly smile. A warm and welcoming smile.

And, again, it wasn’t forced.

Curious.

Wade Parker looked just like his father in a youth’s body. It was clear that he played something. For a child, he was trim and hard. As if he ran a lot.

He, too, smiled at me.

It was usually the children who resented the new kid. But Wade Parker’s smile was genuine.

Either that, or they were all really good at hiding it.

“Wade, why don’t you show Azlan around while we talk to Ms. Cocarro,” Troy Parker instructed.

Wade nodded and pushed himself from the chair where he’d been sitting. “This is the foyer,” he said, his smile ticking up as if he found it amusing. He turned, keeping that smile on me until he walked into the next room.

I followed at a leisurely pace, taking in the furniture, the art, the arrangement of baubles – which, admittedly, were very little. Although the place was obviously high end, it was warm and lived in. Without clutter or dirt, but still clearly a family house.

Wade paused in the next room and looked around, frowning. “I don’t know what this room is,” he said, turning to look at me with a shrug. “It’s just here. We don’t use it.”

With the corners of his lips ticking up a little, he led me through. We went into a massive kitchen with eat in dining in which Wade told me almost always they ate there. The next was the actual dining room but it was only used when they had company. The first floor also contained a den that Wade said he used primarily when he watched television or played games. There was a large family room and an office where Troy Parker worked.

I continued to follow him as he led me to the second floor. At the far end, spanning the width of the house, was his parents’ bedroom. His was to the right of the stairs. “The one between theirs and mine is a guest room,” he said as he crossed the hall and pushed the door open. It was set up as a study, but it was clear that it was probably Wade’s. Except there were two desks.

Across from his room was what I presumed was mine. There was a bed and single dresser. “Yours,” he said, smiling.

I nodded, noting that the doors within the room were likely a closet and bathroom. Wade had said all the rooms had their own en-suite.

“So, I hope you like shopping,” he said, sighing. “Mom and dad didn’t want to decorate your room for you or pick your clothes out. They want you to be comfortable with things you like so as soon as Lydia Cocarro leaves, we’re going shopping for bedding and clothes and school supplies.” He waved his hand. “I think we’re going to get dinner and ice cream after.” He grinned. “And then stop at the store where there’s a little bit of everything. It’ll be rushed since she was so late. Was she really held up?”

I shrugged. Instead of answering him, I asked, “Why?”

Wade looked at me confused. “Because she really did mess up our day. We wanted to make sure you had a comfortable room, but it needed to be all yours. That’s why we requested you be here right after breakfast.”

Thirteen. This was my thirteenth home and not once had anything even remotely similar ever happened. I don’t think I’d ever even had my own room. Unless you count the family that locked me in one every night, in fear of me.

“You can unpack if you want,” Wade said, moving back towards the door. “Mom will call when the woman leaves.”

I watched him as he left me in the large, sparse room. He crossed the hall but left his door open as he climbed onto his bed to pick up a book. I watched him for several minutes in which he glanced at me once, flashed a smile, and turned back to his book.

I set the duffle down and stepped in a little further.

“Boys,” Jessica Parker said. “Are you ready?”

Looking back out the door, I watched as Wade set the book down and jumped off his bed. Again, he smiled at me. “Ready?” he parroted his mother.

Setting my backpack down, I nodded and followed him.

Ready to shop…

We were loaded into a large SUV that had screens in the back of the front headrests and two rows of seats.

And we spent the day shopping. Everything they bought was for me. Wade didn’t even ask for anything unless he was asking if I could have it. And almost always the answer was yes, if I wanted it.

By the time we set foot into the last store after ice cream, I was incredibly weary of the whole experience. Even then, I looked at the huge store feeling incredibly overwhelmed. My fists clenched together as I bit the inside of my cheek.

“We’ll wait here,” Troy Parker said. Still smiling. “Go have fun.”

Wade smiled and nodded his head, waiting for me. Jessica and Troy Parker headed towards the lounge area to have a seat. I’d heard of this place. Basically, if you could think it, you could find it here. It was a kid’s paradise.

Needless to say, I’d never been inside.

Wade was still waiting for me when I didn’t move. He came closer and held out his hand. “It’s not so bad once you’ve been here a few times. I’ll show you.”

No one had touched me in years. No one. So, I stared at his hand for a second before I gave him mine, allowing him to take hold of it. I met his dark eyes again and he smiled. “What kinds of things do you like to do?” he asked, wrapping his fingers around mine in a secure hold.

“I… don’t know,” I admitted. The question had never come up.

He nodded and pulled me along. In a whirlwind tour, I ended up with a handful of different things to try. His arms and mine were full, yet he made sure he could still hold my hand.

Jessica and Troy Parker bought all of it. And when we got back to their house, Wade helped me take it upstairs to the room I’d be using. His mother was going to wash the clothes and bedding first and over the next few days, we’d talk about furniture and how I might like to change the walls.

Right now, I just had a few piles of things we’d brought back as I stared at the bare room. Wade brought me in some clean pajama pants and a shirt and sat on made the bed with some of his spare bedding while I changed. By the time I got out of the bathroom with my borrowed towels and new toiletries (yes, they bought new towels for me, too), his parents were in the doorway, smiling.

“Since we’re still in summer, you’re welcome to stay up until ten, as long as you’re in your room being quiet,” Jessica Parker said in her kind voice, with a smile.

“We hope you’re comfortable,” Troy Parker said. “We’d hoped to be home in enough time to get your linens clean, but we’ll have it all set up for you tomorrow.”

I didn’t answer as I watched them. It didn’t seem to bother them as they looked at me with nothing but kindness and acceptance. I didn’t know what to say. This whole thing was new territory.

“You’re welcome to sleep as late as you want tomorrow. We’ll make breakfast as a family when everyone is up.”

“Waffles on Sundays,” Wade said, grinning.

Jessica and Troy Parker said their goodnights and left, heading back downstairs. Wade was still sitting on my bed, watching me. Studying. I waited for him to say something but after a few minutes, he slid down and headed for the door.

“I know you’ve been in a lot of homes,” he said, pausing to glance back at me. “But you don’t have to worry about us giving you back. You’re home now, Az.” He smiled and padded across the hall.

I stared after him, frozen, not having any idea what to say or do or think. There was only one silly little thought that pulsed around in my head, since everything else was completely unfamiliar.

Did he just call me Az?

Present

Azlan Deth

“You sure she knows we’re coming?” Issy asked.

I glanced up, meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror. We were in an Audi because it was fast. And, really, it was the most comfortable car between the three of us.

“She knows,” I told him.

The corners of his lips lifted in that cute little smirk of his. It made me want to bite his lip. I looked down at my phone, watching the little red dot blip as it moved back and forth between the rooms.

The red dot was Brennan. Don’t ask how I managed to get a tracking beacon on him. Let’s just say I can be convincing when I’m in the right mood. And when it comes to Xan, I’m always in the right mood.

“Does he know we’re coming?” Wade asked.

I shrugged. I didn’t care, really. Whether he knew or not, he couldn’t stop me from taking her. I’d kill him in his front yard and anyone else who had a problem with it. I’d prefer if he accepted the gift I was going to leave behind instead. But no one would prevent me from taking her.

We drove down the highway as I watched the dot on the screen, imagining he was hounding her. Harassing her. Guilting her. I didn’t have to use my imagination too much. I’d heard it plenty of times. The bitch was a pansy and was about to have his ass handed to him.

“How far do we need to get before you light it up?” Issy asked for the eleventh time.

I grinned, shoving my hair from my shoulders. “A couple miles. But relax, it won’t be connected to us. There are already alibis in place and suspicious activity around the house as we speak.” And there was. As I watched, another two little lights came to life on my phone. A blue one and a green one, both of which were the ‘suspicious activity’ I spoke of. I always had my ducks in a row.

“You can abort it if-”

“We’re not aborting anything,” I said, cutting Issy off. His gaze met mine in the mirror again. Those cool brown eyes were filled with anxiety. “I told you I’d do this on my own, Issy.”

He rolled his eyes, returning his attention to the road. The engine roared louder as he picked up speed. “I’m not letting you do this alone.”

A smile tugged at my lips. He’d happily be the getaway car. While Wade made sure there was no one around we needed to worry about. Neither had any reservations about bloodying someone if need be but they preferred to keep out of the true crime.

Me?

I’ll be doing the killing. Already, my fingers itched. I’d waited too long. I’d waited because she wasn’t ready. I couldn’t wait anymore. The girl next door was mine. She was about to find out what extremes I’m willing to go to make that happen.

Issy pulled off the highway, slowing us down so we wouldn’t lose two wheels off the ground. It would draw unwanted attention if we were to roll. Also, it would throw my timeline all out of whack. I had a schedule to keep.

One month. Seven bodies. I only knew for certain where I’d find six. I was hoping that this first body would draw out the seventh. The psycho should come for me.

I know I’m a psychopath. Noah doesn’t understand that he is, too. It doesn’t really matter. He’ll die anyway.

But first, Brennan.

Three streets later, Issy was pulling onto Warrior Drive. Eight houses on the left, we parked in the driveway of a sea green split level.

“Don’t rush her. Don’t act like we’re in a hurry. Don’t look around,” I said as Issy turned the car off. This was our first killing spree. Our first and only, as long as everything went according to plan. “We’re here to see your sister.”

Issy nodded and opened his door. Wade followed. I waited thirty seconds before opening mine as well. All three doors slammed shut the moment the front door opened.

And there she was. The girl who’d held our hearts for a decade. Her smile lit up her face as she came streaking down the stairs, chestnut hair fanning out behind her. She went for Issy first because Issy was the safe one. Her stepbrother. Not someone Brennan would worry about.

We’d carefully cultivated that image. Xan’s stepbrother and the foster brothers that grew up next door. Family. Etc. Etc. Cue eye roll.

She jumped into Issy’s arms, hugging him tightly. It was usually Xan who almost blew our story. Her exuberance to see us. How tightly she hugged us. The way she looked at us. Seriously, how had we not made her ours already?

The question made me frown. I arranged my expression back to being carefully neutral when Brennan stepped onto the front porch, arms crossed over his chest.

He was average height, built like a man who spent some time in the gym for the sole purpose of being looked at. He wore a button-down shirt tucked into wrinkle-free gray slacks and a black belt. His sleeves were rolled up tight over his biceps, making sure everyone saw his muscles. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone. He had a day’s growth on his classically handsome face.

But it was his eyes you needed to watch. They were such a light blue that you couldn’t help but notice them first. It took attention away from the look within the eyes. Because if you looked deeper, you saw a seriously disturbed individual. Someone who liked to manipulate and control those around them, just as he’d always done to Xan.

He had a meticulously put together life. A professor of science at the local university, on track to make tenure. He was good looking, with a smile he knew how to wield to come across as flirty or disarming, depending on what was needed for the situation. And he knew how to read people, so he was good at getting what he wanted.

I’d recently learned why he was so set on having Xan: problem number three on my list of bodies. He was there. He’d seen her. He wanted her. So, he bided his time until she was just broken enough that he could convince her that she needed him.

Our Xan only wanted someone to love her. So much of her life had been wrecked by cruel people and we’d done so little to help her.

Okay, that wasn’t totally true. But as kids, we didn’t have as much freedom. As a child in the foster system, it was too risky for me to draw too much negative, unwanted attention to myself. I didn’t want to be taken away from Wade. Or from Issy and Xan. So, I did what I could when I was sure no one was looking.

I managed to take out the internal threat when Xan was nine. I’d also managed to make her mentally abusive father go away when hiding her was no longer working. I killed the feral dog who’d bit her.

But there were names on my list that I hadn’t gotten to yet. Seven names.

Berta: the menace of Xan’s 6th grade class, who’d immediately taken to bullying her.

Lawrence: the mean girl of 9th grade, threatened by Xan’s natural beauty, went out of her way to humiliate Xan until she’d gotten transferred to a private school.

Noah: Xan’s first real boyfriend at age sixteen. A man who had lured her to visit his grandparents’ decrepit farm, locked her in a shed, and subjected her to psychological torture for eight days until Issy, Wade, and I found her.

Easton: her second boyfriend during the beginning of her senior year, a prep school basketball player, who was so jealous of anyone looking at her that he broke her arm and hit her over the head with a bat when in a drunken rage one night.

Jules: her best friend who turned crazy jealous because Xan’s life was ‘so amazing,’ and she was ‘so lucky’ all the time. So, she tried to drive them both off a bridge.

Professor Lowell Cassidy: Xan’s calculus teacher who’d tried to molest her when she had gone to his office hours for homework help.

Brennan: Xan’s current boyfriend. Noah’s older brother. A man who was almost as calculating as me, but not nearly so meticulous. She’d made recordings and sent them to us when he was yelling at her. She’s his visually perfect eye candy. The wife he’ll need one day to make perfect, beautiful babies. And he’ll move up in the world, in the university, and have a picture-perfect life.

All while controlling her every move. What words she said. What she wore, right down to her socks. He was manipulative. Possessive.

And he needed to go. I watched him watch Xan in Issy’s, would-be brotherly, embrace. He stared in a neutral manner, though I didn’t miss the calculations in his eyes. That embrace was a little more than that of kin. Definitely not that of siblings. They were at eight seconds too long. Nine. Ten.

Then, Wade broke in. He wrapped his arms around Xan from behind her, pulling her from Issy’s arms. Her feet landed on the ground as he tucked her in his embrace and hugged her tightly, murmuring something in her ear that had her smiling shyly, and nodding.

Brennan’s eyes narrowed. Issy headed in his direction to grab Xan’s bag on the bottom step. He smiled up at Brennan, doing a damn good job of hiding his disdain and loathing. And the knowledge that everything would change today. The moment we drove away.

I liked to think that my obsession with Xan was healthy. Truth be told, I had a right to her. She’d confided in me. She’d come to me for help. For protection. For comfort. The girl was mine.

First, the current boyfriend goes. The boyfriend who has manipulated her and trapped her in this relationship for nearly eighteen months now. Who Xan was too afraid to leave, even while he was at work.

“I think he’ll find me if I leave, Az,” she’d told me three months ago. “He always seems to know what I’m doing and who I’m with. Almost down to the second. It’s scary.”

That was the first thing I stopped, of course. He had installed some impressive surveillance apps that ran in the background of her phone. I let them record for a week longer while I recorded them, too. Then I let them play back on a random loop.

And then my planning had really amped up. Xan wanted out. I was going to give her an out.

It was my turn to touch her now. Issy was coming back with her bag. He used his key to pop the trunk as I swept Xan into my arms. I held her like the innocent, sweet girl she was. Bridal style, tucked right up tight to my chest as I stared into her face.

She’s so soft and smooth, with clear skin like that of a doll. Her lips were barely any darker but perfectly shaped and delicate. They’d taste good. They’d look good around my cock. I raised a brow at my thought, a smirk quirking my lips without meaning to.

But the smile that lit up her face at my grin was all it took to melt me. I squeezed her tighter as I stared into her eyes. Those eyes were what epic poems were written about. Lined with beautiful, long lashes that framed the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen. The outside ring was a dark blue that ended in gold around the pupils, an array of greens between.

As I looked, I realized that she was hiding the bruise that circled her left eye. My grin faded, my jaw clenching. She’d never said he’d been hitting her.

I turned to look back at him, all pretense of nice gone. I knew his dark side. I recognized it just as I recognized my own.

“Take care of my girl,” Brennan said. “I expect her back in one week.”

Wade’s hand on my arm, tugging me toward the car, stilled my voice. The only thing that allowed me to walk away was knowing his time was about up. It took an unsurmountable amount of willpower to turn around without retorting. Without calling him out. Without threatening him or beating him right then and there.

I climbed into the backseat with Xan still in my arms, keeping her in my lap as Wade shut the door. Again, it took a lot of strength not to glare at him through the darkly tinted windows. It was almost night in the back seat, while the sun was high in the sky.

The trunk shut a moment before Wade’s door. And then Issy was in the front seat and the engine roared to life. He backed out and headed down the street the way we’d come. He waited until we’d turned off Warrior Drive to speak.

“Do you have everything you want out of the house?” Wade asked, turning in his seat to look at Xan.

She turned away from me then to nod at Wade. “Yeah,” her soft voice was defeated. Because she was under the impression we’d be taking her back at the end of the week. Not only was this trip going to take longer than a week, but we were also never taking her back to Brennan. One, because Brennan was about to die. And two, because she became ours today.

“What time will we be at Mom’s?” Xan asked, the heaviness in her voice lifting as we put more distance between us and Brennan.

Issy was watching the road, keeping his speed exactly three miles an hour over the limit. Wade watched the clock. I watched Xan, staring at the bruise around her eye.

“You didn’t tell us he’d been hitting you,” I said.

You’d think I had screamed the words, the way Issy and Wade reacted. The car swerved. Wade spun in his seat. Xan flinched in my arms. Honestly, I’d spoken calmly. And in a proper tone for the close, tight space that made up the Audi.

“We’re not going to your mother’s,” I told her. “And you’re not going back to Brennan.”

Confusion colored her pretty features. Her lips parted.

I carefully extracted my arm from under her legs so I could take the phone that I’d left on the seat. I flicked it on and handed it to her. “Open the texts,” I told her.

Xan gave me a funny look, like I was asking her to pet a dead cat. Curious and wary and amused. But she didn’t hesitate. She opened the texts.

“The top text, open it.”

She did. All it said was ‘Confirmation code needed.’

“Paste the last thing copied and send.”

Xan held her thumb in the text box until the little block with the options ‘paste’ and ‘clipboard’ popped up. She pasted. A series of letters, numbers, and symbols filled the box. She hit send. It filled the screen as if it were a novel.

At least it wasn’t ones and zeros. I was a bit more advanced than that.

She looked up at me, waiting for my next prompt. But I just smiled at her. I could tell by the way her lips quirked that it was the smile they all referred to as unsettling. The calm before the storm. The pleasant before the psycho.

I tightened my grip on her, bracing myself just before the explosion rocked the car. Xan screamed. She sat up to peer out the back window as the black fire cloud blew up into the sky. We drove a couple more miles before Issy pulled off the road as sirens flew by.

“Is that…?” Xan asked, her eyes wide.

Issy pulled back onto the road and turned onto the highway. Xan shifted in my lap so she could watch the death cloud hovering over the house she no longer lived in.

“It was,” I said. “You’ll not be returning to Brennan.”

I wasn’t sure how she was going to react. It only occurred to me then that she might be furious with me that I had her send the death code. Or it might fill her with guilt. Or fear. So many different possibilities. Clearly, I hadn’t thought that through.

She stared in silence until we were far enough away that she couldn’t see anything more than a streak of black smoke. She met my eyes with an inscrutable expression.

“Did I… that text?”

I nodded, feeling Issy frown at me through the rearview mirror. “I suppose I should have explained. Or done it myself.” The truth was, it didn’t occur to me because I don’t ever feel guilt or fear or remorse. This was satisfaction.

But the little grin that pulled up the corner of her lips, in this little lopsided smile that I’d never seen before, had my body itching. Fucking hell, I needed this girl like I needed my breath.

“You killed a man? For me?”

“I’ve done more than that,” I said. “And we’re about to settle a whole lot more unanswered trauma, love.”

Her breath hitched. Her delicate lips parted slightly. Her eyes widened.

Oh, right. I’d never said that word before. She didn’t know how madly I loved her. Nor did she know I’d burn the whole world if it meant we’d deliver her from every evil bitch that had ever hurt her or that would in the future.

Except now, I’m making the future how I want it. The four of us in this car, this was the end game.

She laid her head on my shoulder and sighed. Bringing her knees up, she cuddled into me. I watched her until it got to the point that I thought it might be creepy. I glanced out the window as the rain started to dot the windshield.

Glancing up, I met Issy’s gaze in the mirror. And that sexy fucking little grin.

I really hoped Xan didn’t mind some crossing swords action. Because I was going to fuck that grin off his face later.

By the way his lips quirked higher, he knew exactly what I was thinking. I turned back to look at Xan as he turned his attention back to the road.