Perfect Ruin (Unyielding #2)(43)

It was my outlet.

My link to keeping my sanity.

Ernie still watched her, but I’d insisted on not hearing updates. He ignored the order and sent me emails anyway, to which for the first couple weeks my finger hovered over the delete button without opening the file. But I always read them.

Shit changed a year ago when she ran away. My first thought had been Vault and after feeling that out, I knew they didn’t have her. From Ernie’s take on it, London simply left with nothing.

And since she had nothing, there was no trail. No trail meant she was making it one f*ck of a job for Ernie to find her. The only good news with her missing was that if I couldn’t find her, neither could Vault and they’d been looking because a couple of months earlier, Mother asked me to bring London in. And for the first time, I didn’t lie when I told her I couldn’t find her.

I had a suspicion that they thought I might even be hiding her. Of course, I wasn’t. And even if I were, I’d never bring her in. I was part of Vault, but I didn’t submit to them, although they thought differently. I just knew how to play their game and lie really well.

I knew why London ran. She was running from herself from—Raven.

And I f*ckin’ hated Raven.

My brave London had submitted and that pissed me off more than anything else because they’d broken her so badly that she had no choice but to fracture and yield.

She’d become Raven and Raven was not a scientist. She wasn’t strong or stubborn or a smart-as-f*ck girl who would do anything to save her father, who cared about others and wanted to save lives.

She’d become nothing.

Her freedom hadn’t freed her at all. It trapped her in a world she no longer knew how to survive in and she ran from it.

My disposable phone vibrated and I pulled it from my suit jacket pocket, and then leaned my palm against the glass window as I stared out into the city. “Told you I don’t want to know.”

“Too bad,” he said. Asshole kept me updated on his search for London whether I wanted to hear it or not. “Christie shelter. Found out she often goes there. Although, it’s all women, so I can’t get in.”

For the last six months, Ernie incorporated himself into the streets and lived with the homeless. London had always helped them and no matter who she was now, Ernie and I thought she might gravitate to them, meaning live on the streets.

But the homeless didn’t like to share information or were too drugged up to share, and the homeless shelters definitely didn’t share. Not when a guy, a guy like Ernie, was looking for a girl who was completely inside herself. It screamed abuse.

“Old man named Donald says he sees her often in an alley behind the Dark Horse. It’s a bar near the shelter. Donald says the bouncer keeps an eye on her. Helps her out. Slips her food.” Ernie paused and I knew why. His gut said we were finding her tonight and that meant he wanted me there. “You need to deal with this, boss. It’s been too long and she’s worse not better. Worth the risk.”

I curled my hand around the phone. Fuck.

“Boss.”

Fuck, London, what the hell are you doing?

I rested my forehead against the cool glass window and closed my eyes.

“On my way.” I ended the call.




I pulled my phone out and called Ernie as I drove toward the Dark Horse. “Two minutes out.”

“Bouncer says she’s in the alley. Not going to like it, boss.”

I f*ckin’ knew I wasn’t going to like what I saw. I didn’t like what I saw in Mexico, in Germany, in f*ckin’ Toronto with Alfonzo. “Keep the bouncer inside. Don’t need witnesses.”

“Got it.”

I slowed down when I saw the sign for Dark Horse, a seedy bar that had a scantily clad chick out front and a man loitering, probably selling drugs or maybe the girl’s pimp or her potential client.

I pulled down the first alley after the bar, stopped the car then leaned over, reached in my bag and took out one of the syringes. I wasn’t taking any chances and didn’t need some pumped-up bouncer coming to her rescue and making this turn into something that attracted attention.

The city was alive with sounds, horns, buses, laughter, and shouts and yet, it was my footsteps on the pavement that were the loudest, like the buildup before the climax in a movie. Everything else became insignificant except that moment.

I was like an addict approaching what I’d been denied for years. The need claimed me. She claimed me.

I stopped when I saw her curled up on the ground sleeping, orange peels lying on the pavement beside her and litter scattered around her.

“Jesus.” I took the final few steps toward her then crouched. I pushed her limp, dull hair from her face. “Baby.” She had dark smudges of dirt on her cheeks and forehead.

I had to make a choice. Ernie was right, this couldn’t continue.

Killing her would end her misery.

Slit her throat while she slept and forget I’d ever met her. Wanted her. Fucked her.

Save her the suffering. Save her from me and what I’d have to do in order to stop this.

But I couldn’t.

I’d let the monsters invade me. The emotions pulsed and London was mine.

I drew my knife from beneath my pant leg and rested the sharp blade against her collarbone.

It would be so simple.