“Are you Justin?” I ask, but Mr. Volli just continues to stare at me, the gun held in his outstretched hand.
“Take it.” He waits until I finally reach out, curling my fingers around the weapon.
“Dakota,” Chasm warns, but we’ve already been through so much, done so much to save Parrish. The guy is already dead, and now here I am, with a weapon in hand.
“If I shoot you, maybe I go tell the cops everything from start to finish. Maybe we find Parrish safe and sound and this is all over?” I grip the weapon, placing my finger on the trigger and then pointing it at Mr. Volli.
Still, he doesn’t seem concerned.
And I have no idea if I could actually do it, kill a person like that.
It’s unfathomable.
“Maybe,” Mr. Volli replies, giving me a small, polite smile in response. “Or maybe I’m not Justin, and you disobey the Slayer’s orders, and then we’re all dead. What do you think about that?”
I glance back at the dead guy. The dead rapist, I tell myself, because that makes it a little bit easier.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I raise the weapon, close my eyes and fire.
Chasm takes me back to his place since we can’t exactly drive through a horde of reporters with blood on our clothes. I’m so distracted by what I’ve just seen that I barely register the grandiosity of his home. It’s a palace compared to the Vanguard’s place.
“Over seven-thousand square feet of misery and loneliness,” is how Chasm introduces it as we drive through the front gate and into a brick courtyard with a fountain. He parks the car beside the front steps and we both climb out, heading into an impressive foyer and up an even more impressive set of marble steps.
It occurs to me that this isn’t the same house that I saw before, the one with the lake beside it.
“This is your house?” I query, blinking in surprise as Chasm pushes open a door to a hallway and then leads me down to the end. He pauses beside another door to glance back at me, a wry expression on his face. There are spatters of blood all over his shirt and neck. I wonder if he knows that?
“Oh. Yeah. The other place you saw is the house we lived in when I first came to the United States. My dad’s seen some success since then.” He snorts and pushes open the door, leading me into a massive bedroom with an attached bath. This doesn’t look like his room anymore than the other one did, more like a hotel suite or something. “Normally, it’s a vacation rental. I’ve been begging for years to live there by myself, but he won’t have it.” Chasm kicks open the door to the bathroom and starts the shower, turning around to face me. “He’s got friends staying there now or else I would’ve taken you there.”
He hooks his thumb in the direction of the shower.
“Go ahead and rinse off. I’ll go next.” He starts to leave when I reach out and grab onto his arm, pressing my forehead to his bicep.
“Please don’t go,” I whisper, pushing back the assault of images in my brain. The dead maid, the disturbing coldness on that monster’s face, Mr. Volli’s awful smile. Is he really my dad? Has he been watching me in class for three months and plotting?
The thought makes me sick.
“I don’t want to be alone,” I add, waiting with bated breath for Chas to respond.
Finally, as if he’s given it some thought, Chasm steps back from me and takes off his own shirt. Together, we strip down and climb into the shower together. It’s a huge fucking shower, bigger even than the one I have back at Tess’ place. There’s more than enough room for us to share without touching.
We stare at each other, the blood draining off our naked skin and swirling down the drain. If I were in a different state of mind, I might find something wrong with this. But there’s nothing sexual between me and Chas, not right now, not after what we’ve seen, what we did.
Eventually, we climb out and Chas gives me some of his clothes to put on.
“Do you mind if I use your laptop?” I ask, pointing at his desk. He looks confused, but he nods anyway, sitting down on the edge of his bed to watch me.
I log into an account I haven’t touched since the news of my kidnapping went viral.
Followers? A metric fuck ton. It’s like, the meager pittance I had before has multiplied into a storm. The internet can be a cruel, dark place, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s a weapon that can be wielded for either good or evil, depending on the hand that grasps the hilt.
Carefully, I open the computer, lift Chasm’s headset on, and start the webcam.
“Hey everyone,” I say, trying not to panic at the sheer number of followers I’ve somehow acquired during my absence. I promised myself I wasn’t going to use the fame of being a missing kid to make a career for myself. But this is different. This is about life and death. About Parrish. About me. I make myself smile because the three million people that are now subscribed to my channel can never know that this is anything more than a game. Just a game, like any other. Only, it’s a game where the leaderboard is my life, where winning means getting back my stolen crush.
I’m coming for you, Parrish Vanguard. That much I promise.
I wait for the number of live viewers on my video to reach four digits before I toss my green and black hair over my shoulder, plant my chin in my hand, and pretend like I didn’t just see someone die in front of me a few hours ago.
I’ll play, Dad.
Start the game.
“Who wants to help me catch a serial killer?”
To Be Continued …
Lost Daughter of a Serial Killer, Book #2
Adamson All-Boys Academy, Book #1
Rich Boys of Burberry Prep, Book #1
Devils' Day Party, Standalone
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