Paint It All Red (Mindf*ck #5)(46)

I gesture to the tray of drugs near the wall. The number of bottles have multiplied since my last visit.

“But the endgame was coming, so Olivia bumped up her regimen, tipping you over the edge faster, reaping revenge for her sister and all those other women. And your son funded her. Lana conceded her own revenge for someone who needed it more. And here you are: impotent, weak, powerless, utterly helpless and literally pissing yourself.”

The tears start gathering in his eyes; angry tears lined with pure, unadulterated hatred.

“She did her part, and left this note for me. Somehow she knew I was coming,” I say, lifting the note, and I read it aloud. “It’s too late for him. I drew out his agony as long as I could. But you can’t save him now. Good luck finding me.”

I lower the note and smirk at him.

“She thinks I want to save you and find her so I can lock her up. She doesn’t understand why I’m really here.”

I pull out my gun, cocking it as I stand and push the note back into my pocket.

“You should know, your son was twice the mastermind you ever were, because he didn’t kill just to be powerful. He killed for revenge. And his own father helped aide in the murder of the boy he loved.”

I point the gun at his groin, even though I almost grimace at what’s to come. But Lana needs to know I’m not going away once I find her. One irredeemable act will mean I can never come back.

“As much as I want you to die slowly, I need to show my girl how serious I am about staying with her. Originally, I was content to watch you die slowly. But something changed today. Something I’m still too scared to fully embrace until I put my eyes on the physical promise of it. For the first time ever, I have hope.”

I put the earplugs in, cracking my neck to the side as I finish. He makes a sound, his eyes widening as I put my finger on the trigger.

“Have fun in hell, Christopher.”

With that, I fire the gun into his groin until it’s empty. The monitors go crazy as he crashes, and his body starts to convulse as blood plumes form across the sheet and blankets.

They played the longest game of torture for the worst offender. As I said, I underestimated the true genius of dark minds.

As I put my gun away, I pull out the earplugs and pick up my phone. I have limited time before this body is discovered. Collins and my team will know it’s me the second they find out who it is.

I labeled him the original killer.

He ends up shot in the groin over and over.

It’s not rocket science to piece it together.

Dialing Hadley, I walk out of the house, leaving behind the last piece of the intricate puzzle.

“You ready?” she asks.

“I’ll be there in fifteen. Did you find them?”

“Not yet. But I will.”





Chapter 19


Wherever you go, go with all your heart.

—Confucius



LANA



Three months ago, I thought I was going to die.

But once again, I was saved by a brother, though not the same one.

Jake walked in, firing rapidly, and threw in a smoke bomb. I wish I’d thought of a smoke bomb. I was too busy thinking I was invincible.

I’d thought I saw Marcus, but it wasn’t him. It was the other brother. The one who had stood by me through hell and high water, and dragged me out of the pit one last time, saving me just barely in time.

And we made it out before the fire caught up. Before the building exploded. Before anyone ever knew he’d saved me.

He’d already paid off a hospital staff who closed off a wing like I was royalty, and they patched me up enough to travel by sea—on the yacht Jake also bought, since flight plans had to be changed to avoid anyone noticing my condition.

From time to time, I check in on Logan—or try to. He’s been on leave, but Jake won’t hack the FBI data base to find out more than that.

We know we have to let Logan and Hadley go. It’s what’s safest for them.

We can’t condemn corruption then drag more souls into our own damnation without facing our own hypocrisy.

I pick up Jake’s underwear and groan as I toss them into the laundry basket he can never seem to find. I still have a small limp, but I’m getting stronger with each passing day.

My hand has healed up much quicker than my leg, but the doctor swears I’ll make a full recovery with just a scar as a reminder. At least I won’t mind my new scars. They tell a better story of survival than the others.

We’re both a little lost right now, trying to find a new purpose to channel all our energy into. Jake has gotten good at fishing—weirdly enough. We’ve both gotten really good at being drunk half the day.

The pain in my leg is barely even there anymore. I’ll be glad when it’s gone completely.

My wax apple is proudly stationed next to a portrait of the ashy remnants of Delaney Grove, and I smirk at all the nails sticking out of it. The last one was added over a month ago. There’s only one more nail to go before the apple art is complete.

Something falls, and I whirl around, a knife in my hand, just in time to see a black blur of fur as it dives behind my couch. I see the coaster that has been knocked off the table, and I curse Bennett.

“Bennett,” I hiss at the fur ball.

A small meow follows the scolding as Bennett pokes his head out from behind the couch and peers at me with innocent eyes. Damn cat.