“My friend in there is filing down her teeth, making them look identical to yours incase the investigators go that far.” His words come out callous, bone picking cold, enough to make a grown man grow nervous.
Matthias has some sort of plan, but what the plan consists of I have no idea. I’m not sure I want to know.
“Vanna, the woman in that room, she’s nothing but a sick individual, offering her body as a way to pay for her next meal. She will be put down soon enough, but I thought she looked quite similar to you . . . similar enough to work. I’ve even gone the extra mile and got a fake I.D. with your name on it attached with her photo, and when the investigators find her, they’ll believe it’s you that’s dead.”
Investigators? When they find her? What is Matthias getting at?
“What are you doing, Matthias?” The man loves nothing more than when people question him. I’m confident he gets some sort of ego boost from it all.
Matthias turns another light on in the room and as he does his sneer tells me whatever he’s about to do is sinister.
“You still have to ask?” he questions, but it comes out more like a cackle. “I’m killing you, Vanna, without even touching a hair on your head. You wanted to leave our group, you wanted to take a child of ours back out into the filth ridden world? Well, this is my punishment for your selfishness. You can never speak of our loyal servants, even if you tried no one would believe you. After all, you’re dead.” Matthias stops speaking and looks through the glass where the man has put down his instruments. The woman’s screams have turned into exhausted moans and Matthias walks up to the glass, banging his fists against it three times.
His man on the other side bends down and picks up a jug of kerosene, slowly begins to pour it over the woman, and then pulls out a box of matches from his back pocket. He backs up into the corner of the room and lights a match, tossing it on the woman and her body lights up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.
She screams louder than I’ve heard her before, though they quickly die down. Even her limbs stop moving and she doesn’t continue thrashing. Her body is simply still and the man on the other side picks up some sort of bucket and pours it over her. It looks like powder, but I have no idea what it could be . . .
“You won’t be able to touch us, Vanna, not now, not ever—”
My heart beats harder than it ever has before as I sit up on the bed. I put my hand over my chest and breathe in and out slowly, trying to calm myself down after the worst of my memories comes flooding back.
They call it post-traumatic stress disorder, but even the words seem like they aren’t painful enough for the agony that comes with it. I’ve tried to bury the pain with alcohol, marijuana, even food, coffee, anything I felt like at some point it could help. The issue is that it doesn’t, nothing helps and I highly doubt anything will help until I have Peyton back in my arms.
Glancing over at my phone, I tap on it and see it’s only four-fifty in the morning. Sucking in another heavy breath, I throw my legs over the side of the bed and rise. There isn’t any way I’ll be getting sleep after that, so I’d best get up and at least make myself useful.
I head down the stairs and enter the kitchen, but I can’t be in here for more than five minutes before the distinctive sound of feet on the stairwell comes from the hallway. God, maybe I shouldn’t have come down. The last thing I want to do is talk to anyone this damn early, especially before coffee.
Chapter Five
Ricochet
Pulling my arm over my head I stretch and get ready for the day. I don’t remember hearing my alarm go off so I roll over and grab my phone, realizing I could’ve had five more minutes of blissful sleep. Fuck, whatever. I get my ass out of bed, throw on some fresh gym clothes and head downstairs. Every morning I have the same routine, I get my ass up, throw on some new clothes, have a nice hot cup of coffee, and head to the gym around the corner.
Coming down the stairs I notice the light in the kitchen is on, which is odd for this time of day. It’s early, and the only person who’s ever up this early is Boss when Destiny’s having a bad night. Though, she hasn’t had one of those nights in a really long time. Destiny’s out of that nasty habit now thank goodness, but toddlers should be, I guess. Hell if I know, I don’t have kids. She makes me want to have them. The sort of happiness I see on Cowboy and Tala’s faces, when I get the opportunity to watch from afar, as they look at her . . . it must be somethin’ really good, somethin’ I eventually want to try.
Turning the corner, the first thing I see is the color of her bright hair. She’s sitting at the island, hunched up with a hand over her forehead. I don’t say anything at first while I make my way over to the coffee pot, open the cupboards, and pull out a coffee filter and some grounds. I still don’t say a word, ignoring the massive elephant in the room while I start the coffee and lean against the counter.
Now, as I look at her, both hands are over her forehead and
