by B. B. Hamel
Penny came out and sat by my feet. “You look tired. I know I’m not supposed to say that, but you do.”
“Thanks, ya jerk.”
“I just worry you’re pushing yourself too hard. You study a lot, you know.”
I ground my teeth together. I wanted to say, not everyone in this college comes from a rich and powerful family, some of us had to earn our positions here—but that wasn’t true.
Maeve was the reason I’d been admitted. My rich and powerful family pulled strings to give me this opportunity, even if that was only for her personal benefit.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me.”
“I’ll try not to.”
“And plus, now that you have the new boyfriend, you’re the one too distracted to keep your grades up.”
“Please, I’m a natural genius.” She stood and walked to her desk. My heart stuttered as she picked up her water bottle. Don’t do it, I wanted to scream. Don’t drink it. But it was part of the plan.
I had to follow through.
She took several long gulps.
I sighed and sat up. Not long now. “It’s true, you’re beautiful and smart.”
“Why, thank you.” She flipped her hair. “It comes so easily to me.”
“I’m sure it does. I mean it though. You are beautiful and I think you’re the funniest person I’ve ever met.”
She grinned, waving me off. She still thought I was joking. “All right, enough. You keep talking like that and I’ll start believing you.”
“I wish you would. I loved being with you. Coming here and living in this dorm’s been the best few months of my life.”
She softened a bit and tilted her head. “What’s the matter? You’re talking like you’re dying.”
“I’m not dying. I just want you to hear it. I’m really sorry about all this.”
She touched her head suddenly, frowning. She began blinking rapidly. “Oh, that’s weird. I feel kind of dizzy. What were you saying? Are you still complimenting me?”
“You’re beautiful. Hilarious. Kind. You deserve better than all this.”
She sat down, forcing a smile, eyes fluttering. “Keep going. I don’t think I’m suitably flattered yet.”
“You have impeccable style and taste. You’re selfless and weirdly good at math.” I stood up and walked toward her bed.
She sucked in a few deep breaths and shook her head. “Man, okay, I feel weird. Why do I feel weird? Am I talking weird?”
“You should lie down.”
She looked up then. “Why?”
“Because the sedative I put in your water bottle’s about to kick in hard.”
“Sedative?” Her voice sounded thick. She lurched forward but I caught her, my fingers digging into her soft hair, my other hand on her hip. I guided her back to the bed, despite her frantic struggling. She had no strength; she was like a little doll.
“Sorry, Penny,” I whispered, making her comfortable. “If it helps, I didn’t want this at all. I think I love you. And even if I don’t, you’re my first real friend.”
“Love me? Alice, what’s happening?” Her eyes fluttered shut and I sat with my hand on her chest, feeling it rise and fall.
She didn’t move.
“Love you,” I repeated, then gently patted her hair flat. “That sounds right. So why’s it all wrong?” I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. Her breath was shallow. I pressed my ear to her chest. Her heartbeat was steady.
Not dead. Not yet.
I stood up and walked to my bag. I pulled a long, ornate knife from a sheath and held it to the window.
The razer-sharp steel glinted in the late evening light. The sun was nearly down.
I began to pace. My plan was simple. Kill Penny here in the room then wait until it was late. I’d sneak out to the apartment, spend the night, and drive to Maeve in the morning. I had an old station wagon parked nearby and the keys were in my pocket.
It wasn’t the big, splashy message Maeve wanted, but it would have to do. With Kaspar sneaking around, there was no way I’d be able to do anything public. Finishing Penny off alone in her room was the best I could hope for.
She looked peaceful. It was a strong sedative and I gave her enough for at least an hour or two. I didn’t know the dosing exactly, but it wasn’t like it mattered—she wasn’t waking up.
I walked to her, knife clutched in my hands. Pretty Penny. Beautiful Penny. I thought back to the first time we met—shy, uncomfortable, unsure. I wanted to hate her.
I was charmed, even on that first day.
She was easy to talk with. We laughed, we sang, we even danced. Being with her was the kind of friendship I’d always imagined.
Then it became more. I didn’t know when it happened. Gradually, slowly. My admiration for her morphed into feelings I didn’t know I was capable of.
I stood over her body and clutched the knife.
One thrust straight down. I could stab directly through her ribs and into her heart. I’d plunge it down and let her bleed out fast. I’d make it quick—there’d be no pain. She was out already. It would be okay.
Beautiful, perfect Penny.
I lowered the knife, paced away.
I didn’t want to do this. Ending her life would end my own. Even if I escaped back to Maeve, the Servant family would know me. Kaspar would tell them everything, and I was sure they could get a picture from the surveillance cameras all over the school. I’d have two Oligarch families on my tail.
Which was what Maeve wanted. She craved the chaos, the violence. She lived and breathed death. Of all the Oligarchs, she was the worst—she killed and maimed and slaughtered in the shadows.
This was supposed to be her big reveal. She was the antagonist the whole time! And nobody knew.
I stared back over my shoulder at Penny and tried not to cry.
This was fucked. So fucked and wrong. I knew it in my core. Maeve shouldn’t ask this of me, but I knew what I was getting into when I agreed. She didn’t force—she requested.
But I’d jump at anything if it would make Maeve happy.
God, this was so fucked.
I walked back to Penny. Sleeping beauty. I wondered what kissing her would be like. I could find out. I leaned forward. I felt her breath against my lips. I stayed there, inches away, mouth so close. I could taste her if I wanted.
I pulled back, disgusted.
She stirred, groaned.
I froze and held the knife to her throat.
If she woke, I could cut deep and end this. There’d be a lot of blood. Not that it mattered.
Her eyes stayed shut.
I sighed, moved the knife. I paced, back and forth.
I had to do it. I couldn’t keep waiting. The longer I delayed, the harder it would be.
Kill her fast. Stab down. That was all it would take.
And if I did it, I’d never have a normal life.
Not that I’d have one if I crossed Maeve and refused to follow through. Maeve would make sure my existence became hell. She might even kill me and send someone else to finish Penny. My little stunt would amount to nothing.
But if I didn’t stab, and kept stringing Maeve along, I might get a few more weeks of normalcy. I could go to classes, have dinner with Penny, watch her date Kaspar, wrestle with these stupid feelings, and whatever else I wanted.
I’d have freedom.
Fuck, I wanted freedom.
Instead, I was trapped.
I gripped the knife. I had to do it. I took deep breaths and walked toward her.
Someone pounded on the door.
I almost screamed in frustration. I went very still. Very quiet. I made no noise. I was a whisper in a cave.
Another knock. Harder, more insistent.
“Penny, open up.” Kaspar’s voice.
Him.
That bastard.
I knew he’d come. I wanted to rage in frustration, while some part of me was relieved.
I could do it still. Slam the knife int
o Penny’s throat. Kaspar would go away eventually and I’d be left in here with my corpse. My Penny body. Pretty dead pale Penny.
“You’re not answering your phone. I know you’re in there.” Harder knocking. “Open the door, Pen.”
I considered answering. I could tell him she wasn’t around. But it was too late—I’d already ignored him too long. I was committed.
Penny’s mouth opened slightly. Her breath got faster. She made another grunting sound.
How long had it been? Almost an hour of pacing up and down. I should’ve done it right away, but I wasted all this time. God, I was so stupid and weak. I didn’t deserve Maeve’s love.
“I’m coming in.” Kaspar again. The door rattled, then thumped loudly.
He was trying to kick it down.
That psychopath. Penny doesn’t answer her phone for an hour and he’s kicking down her door. I held the knife tight and stared down at my roommate, my only friend, my love.
End it now. Do it.
I wanted to. I hated myself.
The door rattled. Something snapped. Another massive crunch, then the door slammed against the far wall. I held the knife up.
Plunge it down. Do it. End her.
Kaspar came into the room. “Alice.”
I looked back. That was the opening he wanted.
He charged. Faster than I expected. He slammed his shoulder into my side then grabbed my wrists. I struggled and tried to slam the knife into his body. I didn’t care where. I wanted to stab him again and again until he was meat. Until he was chunks.
He punched me in the nose and my head snapped back. I saw stars and heard thunder.
I groaned as my grip on the knife weakened. He punched me again and again until I let it go.
He threw me to the floor and straddled my chest. He threw the knife to the side.
I croaked as his hands wrapped around my throat.
“Why?” he asked, staring at me with pure hate. “You love her.”
“Let go of me.” I could barely speak. His grip tightened, cutting off the air.
“You feel the same way about her that I do. I can see it every time you’re in the room. You want her. You can’t get enough. But she’s mine, Alice. She’s all mine. I don’t know who sent you to kill her, or if you’re doing this on your own, but you won’t get away with it.”
I opened my mouth to speak—to explain that he was wrong, I didn’t care about her like that, I cared about her so much more than he’d ever realize—but nothing came out.
I couldn’t breathe. His fingers bruised my throat.
Penny made a groaning, gagging sound. She rolled to her side and sucked in a breath from her nose.
Kaspar didn’t notice. His face was calm and composed. It was terrifying.
“I understand the game the Oligarchs play. I’m a part of the chess match. But you’re only a little pawn, Alice. And I’m the king. You won’t touch Penny and neither will your boss. I won’t let it happen, not when she’s finally mine.”
My vision went blurry. He was strong, so damn strong. I struggled against him, but I could barely move my arms. I had no power left and everything was getting black. Penny rolled on the bed again, her eyes open, blinking, blinking, staring in confusion at Kaspar. His back was to her—he didn’t notice.
I saw. My Penny. Alive and awake.
Staring in a slow, dawning horror as Kaspar choked me to death.
I was going to die. The thought came unbidden and horrible. The end, end, end. I didn’t want this. Dead before I lived. Locked up with Maeve, then sent to the slaughter.
I was happy I didn’t kill her.
The one good thing I ever did.
My final act.
Did that mean I was redeemed?
Kaspar would keep Penny alive. He’d keep my love alive.
I loved her. I loved her! I wanted to love her so badly!
Instead, I was a dead girl.
Kaspar’s hands tightened.
He leaned closer, putting all his weight onto my neck.
Out of time.
Never got a chance.
Never given much.
Penny’s eyes.
So beautiful.
Big and gorgeous.
23
Kaspar
Present Day
Chicago
I crunched over broken glass.
The pizza place was a mess. The windows were bombed out and the tables were kindling. The front counter was riddled with bullet holes and blood covered the ovens like exploded sauce. I avoided puddles of entrails and a couple of corpses, still warm and clutching their guns.
Michaels met me toward the back. “We got him tied up.” My mercenary looked sweaty and very much alive. His eyes shone brightly.
“Take me.”
The back was a giant pantry alongside a walk-in freezer. Maeve’s man was tied up to a chair in the freezer. He wore a nice suit splattered with gore and his lips were blue when I stepped inside.
“Shut this thing off,” I said, gesturing toward the fan.
Michaels relayed my order. Maeve’s man watched me with hard eyes.
A minute later, the freezer stopped humming. It was still cold as fuck, but at least it would be bearable soon.
I crouched down in front of the captive and met his gaze.
I held it. I wanted him to know my face. I was the man that would hurt him, hurt him, hurt him, until he screamed and died or told me what I wanted to know.
Then he’d die.
But first, he had to be given hope.
“You know who I am.”
He nodded, didn’t speak.
“Good. Then you know why I’m here.”
“I can’t tell you where she is.”
“You can, but you won’t.”
“I can’t. If I talked, my family would be killed.”
I glanced at Michaels and gestured him forward. “How many men do we have in the city?”
“A small army, sir.”
“Can you spare ten to protect this man’s family?”
Michaels shrugged. “No problem.”
I gestured back at the prisoner. “There you have it. Tell me where she is.”
“That isn’t enough. Ten men isn’t enough. She’ll get them eventually. I’ve got a wife, two little girls. Maeve will kill all of them. You don’t understand.”
I understood. I knew Maeve. I was Maeve in some ways. We both stood at the top of a very tall mountain and watched our shadows stretch out over the landscape. We were Titans, and everyone else was an ant.
That level of power and influence warped a person’s sense of right and wrong.
I took a knife from a sheath I kept on my belt. It was a good knife. I kept it sharp. It’d been mine for a long time.
Since the night I took it from Alice’s cold, dead fingers.
I held it up so my prisoner could take a nice look. We didn’t speak. I didn’t need to threaten. He knew.
He swallowed and looked at Michaels. “Can you swear they’ll be okay?”
Michaels gestured at me. “Talk to him. I’m furniture.”
“Please,” the prisoner said, returning his attention to me, his eyes radiating a cold desperation. “Promise me.”
“I will do what I can for as long as it’s reasonable.”
He groaned. “Not enough. I might as well die.”
I grabbed his hand. He tried to pull it away, but my grip was iron. I was an Oligarch. I lived to dominate. I held his wrist so hard his hand turned white from a lack of blood. I pressed the knife against the end of his pinky finger, where the knuckle met the palm, and sliced hard.
It came off like the end of an asparagus stalk.
The guy stared, his mouth open in shock. Blood spurted from the wound. Then he screamed.
I hated the screaming. I didn’t release his wrist.
“Talk,” I said. “Where is Maeve?”
“Please,” he moaned. “Please don’t.”
“Next finger wo
n’t be so easy. I’ll start with the tip and work down the knuckles. Most men make it through the ring finger, but few stay conscious much longer past that. We’ll patch you up while you’re out, wait until you come back, then start the process over. There won’t be any escape. I’m a patient man. Now tell me where Maeve is and keep your fingers.”
He sobbed. It was pathetic. I could feel for his plight: I’d take his fingers then his life if he didn’t tell me what I wanted to know, but if he did, Maeve would go after his family.
There was no winning. Poor bastard. I almost felt sorry for him.
But anyone that got involved with an Oligarch understood the risks.
“Okay then.” I pressed the knife against the top knuckle on his ring finger.
“Wait,” he said.
I sliced. It went through and the piece of lifeless body dropped to the floor. Blood fountained down his palm and he screamed.
I released him and stood back. I wiped the knife on my jacket and waited for him to calm down.
He sputtered and cried. He held his battered hand against his chest like a baby. Maybe he wasn’t lying about the family after all.
“She’s here, in the city,” he said as snot rolled down his lips. “Please don’t make me tell you more.”
“Where in the city?”
He sobbed harder. I waited.
“She’s in hiding. She has safe houses. I don’t know which one she’s in right now. She moves around.”
“Can you give my men a list?”
“Don’t make me.”
I stepped forward. Another knuckle would suffice.
But he moaned and nodded his head. “Okay. Okay. I’ll give them a list.”
“Right now.” I snapped at Michaels. He called for one of his soldiers who came in with a phone. He began to record. “Start talking.”
My prisoner began to list addresses through his tears while Michaels and his man got it all on video.
I left the freezer then. It was cold as shit. I shoved the knife back into the sheath at my hip and covered it with my jacket. I hated doing that—but sometimes it was necessary.
For the greater good.
As I moved back through the pizza place and toward my car, Michaels called out my name. He hurried to meet me on the sidewalk. He looked uncomfortable.