Page 130 of I Will Break You
“That’s right,” she says, her eyes softening. “I love your letters. The way you write to her makes my heart flutter.”
Rage pounds between my ears, muffling her next words. It’s an outpouring of sympathy about my childhood and the injustices brought onto me and others by Father.
I stare down at the jabbering woman, my skin crawling with revulsion. She knows my painful history, my most intimate thoughts, and has fondled my letters before passing them on to Amethyst.
“Did you fake your death to continue your quest for revenge?” she asks.
My brows rise. That’s a reasonable question, considering I’m standing before her on the day of my execution. I glare down into her brown eyes, prompting her to continue.
“Well, you finished your mission in the prison, right?”
“Which was?”
“To assassinate your third brother?”
“Oh?”
She leans against the wall. “You killed your stepmother and her two sons, but the letter said there were three. So, I reckon that the third one ended up in prison.”
“Go on.”
“Well, it stands to reason.” She shrugs. “He turned loopy after you smashed his head into that urinal. By the way, I cheered when you finally fought back. But anyway, after your dad went broke and stopped paying for the institution, your brother probably went on a raping rampage and ended up behind bars.”
“That’s an astute deduction.”
“But am I right?” She wiggles her brows.
I nod, my stomach roiling, acid hitting the back of my throat. Those words were for Amethyst, not this thieving interloper.
She clasps her hands to her chest, making Mom’s locket clink against the crap on her cheap charm bracelet. “I knew it. Atrained assassin like you doesn’t allow himself to get caught by the police for no reason. I knew you were in prison to complete a hit.”
“What else?”
She taps her lip. “Well, the breaking news podcast says your execution was a few hours ago. Since you’re here, then I can only assume your brother took your place in the electric chair?”
I give her a slow clap. “Impressive.”
Her eyes sparkle. “Xero, you’re larger than life, and I don’t just mean your masculine beauty. Or even everything you’ve endured.”
I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about.
“From the moment I saw your mugshot, the connection I’ve felt with you has been visceral.” She clenches her fist for emphasis.
“I’m beginning to feel the same way,” I say, meaning every word, but the only visceral proclivities veer toward her violent demise. “But I am curious. You know so much about me, yet I know nothing about you.”
Her face falls. “That’s true.”
“Tell me about yourself.”
“Seriously?” she asks, her cheeks turning pink.
“Is there somewhere we can be more comfortable?” I dart my gaze up the stairs.
She rolls her shoulders, her thin lips forming a ridiculous pout. “You can hide out in my room.”
I incline my head. “Thank you. Kayla.”
She darts down the hallway and thunders up the stairs, taking them two steps at a time. With long strides, I stay close, not wanting this clever little interloper to raise the alarm. Each swing of her arm sends Mom’s locket crashing against the banister. At this rate, she’ll ruin my precious heirloom.