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“You don’t think it’s her,” Carter said quietly. “The last time any of us saw her was Nate’s birthday…” “Six days ago,”
frowning. “But we’ve spoken to her.”
“By t...
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“And then all our interactions since then have been by text message, which didn’t seem so strange until Spark asked for notes that she doesn’t need.”
“Test it,” Heath suggested. “Text her and ask something, Carter, but call her Squirrel. See if she notices.”
No freaking way is that Ashes texting you.”
“Something’s happened to Spark,”
“Whoever is texting from her phone is an imposter and something bad has happened. What are we doing about it?”
“What? Why do you think that?...
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“What words? Whatever words
were exchanged…she’s now missing and someone else is pretending to be her by replying to messages. So think really fucking hard about whatever you’re keeping secret, Nate, because for all we know…Ashes is already dead and you’re to blame.”
Committed. Nate had me fucking committed to an honest-to-fuck mental health facility…and
Heath was dead? Mom was dead? My relationships were all merely
figments of my drug-addled imagination? If that was all true, then what the fuck was I even living for?
“Good morning, Abby. How are you doing today?” I stumbled. Abby?
Holy fuck. No. Suddenly, the mumbled response the vacant woman had given me made sense, and the knowledge rang like a fucking bell inside my head, loud enough to deafen me. The ducks. Ducks. Devil’s Backbone Society. Holy fuck, had I just met Abigail?
“Ne m'oblige pas à jouer avec ces autres salopards. La moitié d’entre eux ne connaissent même pas leur propre nom.”
“Shouldn’t he already know you’re here?”
“Exactly. So what’s the harm? If he already knows, then you’re not telling him anything new. But if he doesn’t know…then shouldn’t
that prove I’m not meant to be here?”
“So the Ashley imposter is only maintaining the illusion with us…not with her mom? That seems weird, doesn’t it?”
“I’m going to get you back,”
“Then I’m going to make
you go commando for at least a week so I can play with your pus...
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“Sadly, it looks like our time with the little bitch is already running out. It’s fine, though. We achieved our intended result in holding her this long.”
“It’s fine. I’ll fix it before the next review panel. Even if I need to break every ethical rule in the damn book, we will. If that means Carina’s darling daughter dies in the process…so be it.”
If I spent the rest of my life in prison for murder, it’d be worth it to know this evil piece of shit was gone. Then my mom would be safe. Now it was all so clear—Jocelyn was her stalker.
Ashley was in a psychiatric hospital that was rumored to be conducting military research.
“Hold on, Layne,” I muttered into the silence of my truck. “I’m coming for you.”
it’d just go back to how it was—with me doing everything possible to act like I wasn’t completely in love with my best friends’ girlfriend.
I couldn’t bring myself to admit what I’d done, that my words might have cost the three of them the love of their lives. And mine.
“You’re going to be the death of me, Duckling,” I muttered under my breath as I buckled myself in and turned on the engine. Ashley
was asleep, I was pretty sure, so I flinched when she replied. “I hope so,” she mumbled. “As soon as these drugs wear off…I’ll kill you myself.”
“I hate you,” she mumbled again, her eyes closed and her head resting on the window like she was sleep-talking. “I hate that you found it so easy to break my heart. You really are a cold bastard.”
“Just sleep, Duckling,” he murmured in that low, comforting voice. “I’ve got you.” I believed him, sagging into his embrace and letting my heavy lids slide closed once more. Sleep would help to clear the drugs, surely. Nate wouldn’t let anything
bad happen while I slept—of that I was confident. “I’m sorry, Layne baby.” His whispered apology roused me some time later. “I’m not being a pervert, I swear, but I want to get you out of these hospital clothes.”
“I
regret everything. I don’t know how to say how sorry I am or how badly I wish I’d made different choices. I didn’t just break your heart, Duckling. I destroyed mine.”
“I trusted you, and you fucking set me up, you son of a psychopath!”
“What the fuck? I’m killing you. This isn’t fucking foreplay, you sick puppy!”
“Hit me again,” he said, voice dripping in desire.
“What the fuck is happening? I tried to kill you, literally end your life, and you just…came in your boxers. This can’t be real. I’m still dreaming, aren’t I?”
“Do you have dreams like this a lot, Duckling?”
“Dreams about you and me in bed together?” “Yes…”
“I still want to kill you,” I murmured, raising my gaze to meet his. “But I also really, really want to fuck you. Just once. Then I can get you out of my head and feel nothing when you die.”
“Seems fair.”
“Fuck, Layne,” he groaned, kissing my throat. “Your pussy feels incredible. Are all your dreams this good?”
That wasn’t a dream?!
“You fucked Nate, you idiot.”
Had I managed to get him out of my system? Absolutely not. Nate Essex was inside my head a thousand times worse than before, and I just knew this was going to hurt me.
