Make You Beg

Law’s face is void of any emotion as he stares at Henley. He gives a nod, and Mr. Monroe walks off, grabbing his cell out of his pocket. “It’s done,” he says, placing it to his ear. “Yeah, the bitch is dead.” He disappears out of sight.

A silence falls over the large open space in the atrium as I watch her, waiting for her to move. To laugh and say gotcha. Why would Law kill her? Did something happen that they haven’t told me? I don’t particularly care for Henley after what she did to Dax, but I don’t think she needed to die. The point was to use her, not kill her. Isn’t death the easy way out?

“What did you do?” Dax is the first one to speak, taking a step toward Law.

“What needed to be done,” Law snaps at him. He bends down, gripping her ankles, and drags her body closer to him. “Now I’m going to finish it.”

“No!” Scout shouts, making me jump. I almost forgot he was beside me. “Do not touch her, Law,” he orders, then shoves off the railing and runs toward the stairs.

Shit! I go after him to make sure there are not two dead bodies to dispose of tonight. I jump the last four steps and round the corner to the Graveyard, but slow when I see Law is no longer there. And neither is their doll. Instead, Dax is on his knees with his hands on his head. “Dax?” I grab his shoulder, and he looks up at me. Blood runs down his face.

Scout is looking around. “Where the fuck is she?” he snaps to no one in particular.

“He took her,” Dax answers.

GRAYSON LAW

Life is always about decisions, my mother would tell me. There are always multiple actions to choose from. Just know that each one holds a different consequence. If you choose wrong, you may be punished more than the other.

I fucked up!

The guys are going to kill me. Scout will probably hang me by my neck and set my body on fire, and I would deserve nothing less.

I get to my G-Wagon and open the passenger door. I toss her body in, and it slumps forward. I push her head back and then pull the seat belt across her, fastening her in so she doesn’t hit the dashboard.

I get in the driver’s seat and start it up. I get back onto the two-lane road and take a right, going the opposite way of home. Looking at the speedometer, I’m doing well over a hundred. Going too fast, you can’t even count the trees that hang over the road as I pass them in the middle of the night. There’s a turn up here off the beaten path that leads back to the Victorian house where Dax takes Mrs. Shepherd when he fucks her. I just need to get there. The guys won’t suspect I’m there.

I see the road and the rear end starts to fishtail just a little, but I manage to keep it on the pavement and then the gravel as I gas it again. Listening to the loose rocks kick up and chip my paint. The house comes into view, and I stop in front of it. Her body leans forward, and I reach out to stop it from hitting the dash as the seat belt does its job.

She moans as I slam it back into the seat. “Henley?” I cup her face. “Little doll, look at me,” I urge, licking my lips.

My intentions were not to kill her. I had to save her, and there was no way I had the time to get everyone in on my plan. I had to work alone.

“Can’t … breathe …” Her head bobs to the side.

“Hang on,” I jump out of the driver’s seat and yank open her door. Undoing her seat belt, I rip my pocketknife out of my jeans and kneel beside the open door. I slice it through the zip ties that bound her ankles and then shove her forward. Her body falls toward my driver’s seat, and I cut the zip ties that bind her wrists behind her back.

I push her back into the seat and reach for the collar of her hoodie. Bringing the knife up to it, I slice down the center of Dax’s Westbrook hoodie that I had dressed her in. The fabric giving way down the middle to showcase the bulletproof vest I had put on her after I punched her out in Mr. Monroe’s office earlier.

I knew that he kept one in his gun safe, but I needed her to be dressed in something bulky to conceal it, so I had to remove her evening gown and put her in Dax’s clothes.

I rip the Velcro off it one at a time, releasing the pressure. She opens her eyes and sucks in a deep breath once they’re all undone. “How do you feel?” I ask her, placing my hand on her forehead. She’s warm. Feverish feeling and sweaty.