Twisted Hate (Twisted 3)

“Yes, you are. Keep going, and you’ll kill him.” Alex turned me around without releasing my arms and pinned me with a glare. “If that’s what you want, fine. But it’s not.”

“You don’t know that.” My ragged breaths echoed in the empty space.

The basement contained no furniture save for the chair, a table, an industrial sink, and a fridge. I didn’t want to think about what activities Alex usually conducted down here. Probably something similar to what I just did.

“I know you’re not the type of person who wants another’s death on your hands,” he said calmly. “You’re not a killer, Josh. Besides, look at him. You’ve made your point.”

I stared at the unconscious heap on the ground. Max’s face was a mangled mess of blood and pulp. Sticky dark liquid pooled around his body, and if it weren’t for the faint rise and fall of his chest, I would’ve thought he was already dead.

I did that. Me.

Alex hadn’t laid a finger on him.

My heart rate slowed the longer I stared at Max. The soft drip of the sink in the corner reminded me of the drip of blood, and I was suddenly hyperaware of the coppery liquid coating my face and clothes.

I’d beaten him half to death.

Bile rose in my throat.

I wrenched myself out of Alex’s grasp and stumbled to the sink, where I dry heaved until my throat was raw and moisture burned my eyes.

I hadn’t eaten since before my shift, so nothing came out, but that didn’t stop nausea from roiling my stomach.

What the fuck had I done?

Kidnapping. Assault and battery. Probably a dozen other crimes that would end my career if anyone found out.

I started off wanting to make Max pay for what he did to Jules and ended up using him as my human punching bag.

Fuck.

I turned on the tap and splashed water on my face, hoping to wash off the blood, but its stain remained even after the pinkish water ran clear in the steel basin.

When I finally lifted my head, my skin numb from the chill of the water, I saw Alex next to me. He leaned his hip against the counter with an unreadable expression. “Feel better?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know.” I rubbed a hand over my damp face and glanced at the still unconscious Max. My stomach lurched again. “What are we going to do about him?”

“Don’t worry. He won’t go to the police.” Alex walked over to him and nudged his prone form with disdain. “It’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

True. Max was only a few months out of jail, and he’d already committed aggravated assault and was involved in a conspiracy to commit grand larceny. If the police looked into his background, he was fucked.

“And if he comes after us later?” I asked.

“Please. He’s a common thief trying to play in a league above his own.” Alex sounded unimpressed. “Plus, if what he said was true, he has enough problems to worry about without trying to take revenge on us. Whoever wants your hideous painting will keep him busy.”

“It’s not hideous,” I growled. “It’s unusual, and it’s worth a lot of money.”

I’d shopped the painting around after Jules’s confession. It was tainted with bad memories, and like Max said, the people after it would come after me if I held onto it. I was lucky they hadn’t already. I guess they didn’t trust Max enough to finish the job Jules started.

The only way to get Max’s mysterious “friends” off my back and not screw over the next owner was to sell it to someone no one would dare steal from.

I finally found a suitable buyer yesterday, and we were scheduled to sign the contract in two days, after he returned from a business trip.

I assumed whoever was tracking the piece would know I’d sold it, but just in case they didn’t, the buyer promised to publicize the sale.

“Enough about the painting. Even if Max won’t call the police, we can’t just leave him here.” If we did, he might very well die of blood loss, and Alex was right. I wasn’t a murderer. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if anyone died at my hands.

The urge to vomit returned. “He needs medical attention.”

Alex’s sigh contained multitudes of exasperation. “You and Ava. So driven by your consciences. No wonder you’re siblings,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll send someone to take care of him.”

“Take care of him as in…”

Another, deeper sigh. “As in medical attention, Josh. I’m not going to kill him. I barely know him.”

“Right.” With Alex, it was always best to double check.

At his suggestion, I rinsed off in the upstairs shower and changed into one of his spare outfits while he took care of the situation.

By the time I emerged, Max was already gone and Alex sat in the living room, scrolling through his phone.

“What the fuck? Do you have magical house elves or something?” I sank next to him on the couch.

I felt better after the shower. Not good, but better, though images of Max’s bloodied form would haunt me for a long while.

I swallowed the lump of guilt in my throat.

“No. I have a highly competent, highly paid team.” Alex didn’t look up from his phone. “Besides, you were in the shower for an hour. A geriatric grandmother could’ve taken care of Max in that time.”

“Bullshit. I was in there ten minutes, tops.”

“That’s not what the clock says.”

I glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner. He was right. It’d been over an hour since I jumped into the shower.

I mentally added loss of time awareness to the long list of shit I needed to worry about.

“I’m going crazy.” I closed my eyes and pressed a fist to my forehead. “What the fuck is happening to me?”

I felt like a passenger who didn’t know their train had flown off the rails until they looked out the window and saw the ground rushing toward them.

One minute, I lived a charmed life—popular and accomplished, with a great family and great friends. The next, it all burst into flames until only ashes were left.

“If it’s about Max, don’t feel too bad. He’s a piece of shit, and he had it coming. But he’ll survive.” Alex slid a glance in my direction. “You never answered my question earlier. Do you feel better?”

I hated to admit it, but… “Yeah.”