A helpless sob escapes me and I put the gun back down, unlocking the door and throwing it open. Brant is on the other side looking—well, alive, and that’s all that really matters. I throw myself at him, lock my arms around his neck, and hold on to him like I’ll never let go again.
I might not. It’s going to take some convincing.
His arms lock around me, but not quite as tightly. Unlike stupid worthless fucking Theo, he is conscious of the delicate little being growing inside me.
“Where is he? Is he…?”
“He’s in the workshop,” Brant answers.
I only let my grip on him loosen enough so I can pull back and look into his eyes. “You left him alone?”
“He’s not going anywhere.”
My stomach sinks. “Is… is he…?”
“He’s dead,” Brant states plainly.
That does it. My limbs weaken so much, I can’t hold on to him, and I fall back a step. “I… I killed him?”
“No,” Brant says quickly, shaking his head. “No, you didn’t kill him. You just hurt him. I had to finish the job, though. How the hell would I explain this to Bri?”
I still feel woozy. I know Brant would catch me if I actually fainted, but I back up until I feel the support of a wall behind me, then I slide down it. “Oh my God.”
“I had to do it, Alyssa.”
“I know. I know, I just…”
Brant doesn’t say anything, but he seems to understand. Sighing, he drops down and sits beside me. He doesn’t touch me, but I can feel him wanting to. “Are you okay?”
Am I okay? I’m not sure. I don’t feel okay, but I guess I am. It’s probably shock. I feel a little like I’m going to be sick again, but I know there’s nothing left to throw up.
“Can I hold you?” Brant asks.
“Of course,” I say on a sigh, falling into the safety of his embrace.
We stay there like that for a long time, him holding me, neither of us saying a word. After a while, he tells me he has to go back downstairs.
“To the shop?”
He nods.
“I want to go with you.”
“Alyssa… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I have to see him,” I tell him, looking up into his face. “I have to see that he’s…”
He stares at me like he wants to argue, but after a minute, he just reaches down and takes my hand. “All right.”
I know it was supposed to be cold outside tonight, but I can’t feel it as we walk out to Brant’s workshop. My mind replays the first time he brought me in here when I referred to it as his murder workshop, then he swings open the door.
Spread out on the shop floor is a dark green sheet, a tarp of some kind. On top of that is Theo’s lifeless body. There’s a trail of blood on the floor where Brant must have dragged him.
I swallow, and Brant squeezes my hand.
“You’re sure it wasn’t me who killed him?” I ask.
“Positive,” Brant answers, his tone certain. “I got the pleasure of doing that myself.”
It’s the first comment that reaches through the shell of shock all around me. I’m stunned that the first thread I feel back to reality is one of near amusement, but I don’t fight it. Looking over at him, I lift an eyebrow. “Thought you said you don’t get anything out of killing people.”
“Normally, no,” he agrees. “I get something out of it when it’s him.”
That’s reasonable enough, so I nod my head and look back at Theo. “What are we gonna do with him?”
“We?” he asks, surprised. “We aren’t going to do anything. You’re going to go inside and take a nice warm bath or shower or whatever you need. I am going to haul his sorry ass out into the woods and bury him.”
“All by yourself? You need help. I’ll go put some pants on and help you.”
“No, you will not. You’ve been through enough tonight, and you’re pregnant on top of that. I’m not going to have you out here doing manual labor that could hurt the baby.”
“It’ll take you all night,” I argue.
“Then it takes all night.”
I stare for another moment. “What do we do about the blood? I shot him on the bed, so there must be blood all over the mattress.”
I expect Brant to answer me, but he doesn’t for so long that I finally look over at him to see why.
His body is rigid, his jaw locked so tight it looks painful. Alarm hits me so strongly it pierces the haze, too.
Like I’m waking up from some kind of coma, I turn to Brant, and I actually see him. I feel the chill in the air, smell the sickly metallic tang of Theo’s blood all over the place.
I’ve been living each moment through some kind of protective fog until now, but something has happened to Brant, and it scares the hell out of me.