Page 141 of I Will Break You

I turn to Jynxson. “Where’s the corpse?”

“Still being embalmed,” he replies.

“Bring it as soon as it’s ready. I need someone from maintenance to install cameras in every corner of this house and to make an opening into the crawlspace.”

As both men return toward the trees, I tear open the envelope and glance at its contents. It contains cryptic notes signed by some nameless asshole.

My jaw clenches. Who the fuck is this psychopath?

“One more thing,” I say to their retreating backs. “Intercept her mail. Nothing reaches her unless it goes through me.”

I turn to the kitchen, my brows furrowing. That first letter could have been the work of the man she killed, but the second?

Someone wants a taste of my prey, but they’ll have to get in line. Amethyst Crowley is mine.

And I’m moving in.

SEVENTY-ONE

You,

Why are you still alive?

Me

P.S. You’ll soon be begging for death.

SEVENTY-TWO

PRESENT

AMETHYST

Everything aches.

My head pounds in sync with the slow beat of my heart, and my throat feels hoarse from screaming. Every muscle burns as though I’ve just run a marathon, and my pussy has never felt so raw.

I want to drift back into unconsciousness and sleep away the pain, but a niggling part of my brain urges me to surface. Why? I don’t know.

The last time something like this happened, there was a horrific scandal. Two men at my college were found dead in their dorm. Mom and Dad freaked out that there was a killer on the loose. And before I knew it, I was back on a cocktail of drugs that knocked me out for weeks.

To this day, I still don’t know why they pulled me out of college, but my life soon turned into an endless blur of blackouts, prescriptions, and bed. When I finally emerged from my haze, I was already living at number 13, Parisii Drive.

So, I don’t want to wake up, thank you very much. I’ll probably get blamed for something I don’t even remember.

As I drift back into slumber, my mind dredges up snatches ofmemories. Not just from the quartet of men in black who broke into my home, but from being chased through a graveyard by Xero.

Wasn’t that just a nightmare?

My throbbing clit says it wasn’t, as does my sore pussy. I crack open an eye, but sunlight stings my retinas, so I seal it shut. What the hell did I take? This feels worse than the time I got drunk on vodka and holy water.

Shit.

Why am I picturing myself relaxing in a Roman bath surrounded by stained-glass windows? That had to be another dream, because Xero is just a ghost.

Isn’t he?

I’m trying to sift through what’s real, what’s a nightmare, and what’s just a hallucination, but my brain won’t cooperate. Can’t it just create a purple haze, so I know which is which?