Arlo.
Dimitri’s mother would tell him to leave the boy alone. She knew they worked together. She didn’t like it, but she had agreed to it as a compromise as long as Dimitri left Arlo at work. She said the more he was around Arlo, the more tenuous his control was on his impulses. Dimitri didn’t feel like that was true.
He did everything his mother asked of him. He laughed, joked, went to parties—well, parties where Mandy was unlikely to attend. He did all of the things ‘normal’ college students did. On the surface, he was just like everybody else.
Despite what his mother might believe, he didn’t have some overwhelming compulsion to kill. He wasn’t up at night fantasizing about ritualistic corpse mutilation or jerking off to snuff films. He just believed that people should earn their right to share the planet with the rest of the world. People like Holden need not apply. There was nothing he could contribute to society except rape jokes and college hazing scandals. Holden wasn’t a person. He was a walking caricature of a CW villain.
And now, Arlo knew it. Arlo saw what a piece of shit he was and he was going home with Dimitri instead. Warmth pooled low in his belly. Arlo had kissed him back so sweetly. Arlo had wanted more. Dimitri wanted more, too, but he was determined to take it slow. That was what normal people did. They dated, they got engaged, and then married, and then had—
Dimitri’s vision split in two, his eyes somehow pointing in two different directions as his head exploded. Had he been shot? No. He hadn’t heard a gunshot. He spun around, doing his best to hold himself upright, but it was almost impossible.He stumbled, the gravel shifting beneath his feet as he saw his attacker.
Fucking Holden. Holding a goddamn baseball bat. Of course, he’d hit him while his back was turned. Dimitri raised his hand, feeling the back of his head, a bit relieved when he realized his skull was still intact though sticky with blood.
He forced his shoulders back, looking his assailant in the eye. “I’d say you hit like a girl, but I know girls who could hit way harder than that.”
His jab had the desired effect. Holden choked up on the bat and charged Dimitri with a primal scream. Dimitri waited until Holden cocked his arm back to take another swing, bringing his booted foot down on the side of Holden’s right knee, enjoying the way he screamed and the crunch pop of his knee giving way. Dimitri watched Holden hit the ground, managing two steps before his vision tunneled to a pinpoint. He didn’t feel himself fall, just knew he was on the ground, the cold gravel digging into his cheek and seeping through his t-shirt.
He wanted to move, but his brain and body seemed at odds with each other. A heavy weight fell on him, dirt and pebbles filling his mouth a split second before something sharp punctured his neck, far enough away from his carotid not to kill him but the sensation was unpleasant nonetheless. Hot blood trickled down his chilled skin.
Holden’s fetid breath panted against his cheek. “How do you like it, huh? How do you like being the one pinned down with a knife to your throat?”
Dimitri doubted this was the first time Holden had done this. He loved being feared too much. But Dimitri wasn’t afraid of anything, not even death.
“Just do it,” Dimitri taunted. “Cut my throat. If you’re waiting for me to beg for my life, you’ll die disappointed.”
Holden grunted, slamming Dimitri’s head against the ground, once more making him see cartoon stars. “You think you’re so fucking tough. You talk so much shit. I bet you wouldn’t be so tough if I went in there and dragged your little boyfriend out.”
Dimitri went rigid beneath him, his nostrils flaring.
Holden’s laugh was sinister. “He is your boyfriend, right? ‘Cause he’s definitely not mine. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s a walking heart-eye emoji. He never shuts the fuck up about you. Dimitri this, Dimitri that. I really don’t fucking get it.”
A million emotions warred within Dimitri at Holden’s words. Arlo talked about him, couldn’t shut up about him. Until tonight, he’d never imagined Arlo really thought about him much at all. But hearing that had him grinning despite his predicament.
Holden spit in his face. “Keep smiling, pretty boy. You won’t be so pretty by the time I’m done with you.”
The knife suddenly pierced his cheek dangerously close to his eye, then began to slowly drag down his cheek. The cut was shallow but stung like fire.
“When I’m done with you, I’m going to give him the same scar. You two can be a matching set. Maybe it will be my going away present to him.” Once more, that sinister snicker that made Dimitri see red. “Well, one of them. He was always good at that. Maybe I’ll fuck him one last time. Sometimes, he even cries.”
There was no missing the intention in his words. Dimitri had to get him up and off him. He needed leverage, but Holden had fifty pounds on him. He shifted his weight, but Holden countered.
“Yeah, that’s it. Fight me. Give me a fighting chance at a self-defense plea. Not that my father will ever let me see the inside of a courtroom. As far as anyone will know, you were both killed in a tragic robbery gone wrong.”
Killed? This idiot would be caught before sun up. Before Dimitri could retort, the back door slammed shut loud enough to startle even him. Then, the sound of sneakers shuffling over gravel filled his ears, followed by a grunt and a sound like a sledgehammer hitting a watermelon. Once. Twice. Three times.
Holden became dead weight, then disappeared entirely.
Dimitri couldn’t see Arlo, but he could hear him sucking in painful breaths, a high-pitched whine leaving his lips before he said, “Oh, no. Oh, God. Holden? Holden?”
With Herculean effort, Dimitri forced himself into a sitting position, almost toppling back over, catching himself with his left arm. He looked down at Holden’s lifeless form and the blood pouring from a wicked hole at the base of his skull. Arlo held the brick from the door in his hand.
“He’s not moving,” Arlo said, his gaze imploring Dimitri to fix it.
Dimitri scooted closer to the body, pressing his fingers to the side of his neck. There was no pulse. Arlo clung to the heavy brick, now coated in blood and tiny bits of bone. Arlo had concentrated his hits all in one spot, where Holden’s spine met his head, most likely severing the spinal cord in one of his blows.
“He’s dead,” Dimitri said, falling back onto the ground to look up at the stars swimming overhead. Yeah, no. That was a bad idea. He rolled onto his side and puked.
All at once, Arlo became a flurry of motion. “Oh, God. I need to call an ambulance for you. I need to call the cops. I’m going to go to jail. Holy fuck. I’m going to jail. I killed somebody. I killed somebody. Holy shit. I killed somebody.”
Arlo’s voice grew increasingly panicked. Dimitri managed to turn his head just in time to see Arlo pulling his phone free from his pocket. “Give me the phone,” Dimitri said, voice sharp enough to cut through his frantic rambling.
Arlo’s gaze snapped to him, and he looked relieved as he handed over the phone. Until Dimitri stuffed it into his own pocket. “No cops.”
Arlo’s hands waved in a helpless gesture. “What do you mean no cops? He’s dead. You’re hurt.”
Dimitri shook his head. “Cops won’t fix either of those things. I probably just have a mild concussion.”