Scarlet Angel (Mindf*ck #3)(14)

She sighs harshly before grabbing the gun out from under her pillow, and I sit back down, facing her, staying at the exact right distance I need to disarm her again if the need arises.

She doesn’t point the gun at me this time.

“Start at the beginning. Explain what could have turned you into this,” she says, gesturing toward me with her hand.

“They turned me into this,” I tell her softly. “They stripped away my soul and left me devoid of any empathy toward the monsters in the world. I’m not a psychopath. I know the truth from the lies. I know the reality from the delusions. In fact, there are no delusions.”

“We’ve found nothing in that town to point to this level of violence.”

I lean forward, but this time she doesn’t react. “Dig deeper.”

“Just tell me. I’m not deciding what to do until you tell me what could turn someone into a killer so cold that you didn’t flinch when you killed Plemmons. You wanted to torture him.”

“Just like he tortured those women. Don’t you think death was simply too easy?”

She stares at me with the eyes of an unscarred soul, despite the scars I know she bears.

“Fine. You want the story; I’ll tell you. But you can’t tell your team. They have to learn for themselves,” I bite out.

“Why?” she asks. “Why don’t you want them knowing?”

“Because I want the town to confess to the sins they covered up,” I say bitterly.

“Prove to me you’re not going to hurt someone innocent, and I’ll make that deal. Tell me the story.”

“I could have killed you several times, Hadley. From the day you walked into my house and called me out for stealing Kennedy’s identity.”

“Why did you steal her identity?”

“To survive,” I say quietly.

Her lips tighten, but she gestures at me, meaning she wants to hear what I have to say. Needs to know I’m not suffering a psychotic break. Needs to know that despite the brutal way I kill, that I’m in control of my mind.

So I tell her. I start at the beginning, telling her about my father. Tell her about how he died. Tell her about how small town justice works. I tell her every sick, twisted, demented detail until she’s pale and grabs the garbage can, heaving into it as her stomach loses the battle of control.

The vomit doesn’t bother me, so I keep talking as she retches. I tell her about Marcus, about his beauty, and how they stole it all away. About how they destroyed him in the last few hours of his life.

About how he was so desperate to save my life that he sacrificed his own by driving so far away from Delaney Grove while trying to keep pressure on his wound.

I tell her about Jake, and how his father was my father’s lawyer and best friend. We proved over and over that Dad couldn’t be the serial killer they charged him to be. I tell her about how they ran Christopher Denver out of town for trying to save an innocent man’s life.

I tell her about how Jake left before the town could turn against him, because he needed to be innocent for my sake. For the sake of justice—not just revenge.

I tell her about Lindy, and what Kyle did to her. About how even her husband believed a rapist over his own, terrified wife. I tell her about Diana, and the threats they made toward her son to keep her quiet. I tell her every dark detail that town covered up. Every dirty secret finally gets aired.

And though I feel free, knowing another person now knows the truth, Hadley looks like she may never recover.

At least I spared her one detail.

The name of the man who will die the most painfully.

The man who started the dominoes back then.

We sit silently for several long minutes, and I check my phone, knowing Logan is showing patience, even though he’s in a hurry. No texts.

“How did you survive?” she asks in a rasp whisper, tears streaming from her eyes when I look back at her. I have no tears left for this. I’ve cried them all already.

“No one knows,” I say honestly. “But my mother always believed in avenging angels. Marcus’s last words to me were that we’d come back as avenging angels, and we’d make them pay. We’d do it together. But he didn’t come back.”

My voice breaks on that last bit, but I force the emotion back. “Jake took his place. He loved my brother as more than just a friend, but was always too worried what the town would say or do if they came out about their relationship. It’s his deepest regret.”

She wipes away more tears, and she runs a hand through her hair.

“I won’t tell the team,” she finally says. “Unless someone innocent gets caught in the crosshairs, I owe you my silence. You saved the lives of countless children by ending a monster I let go free. You saved women all over, possibly even Logan, and saved me from Plemmons. Until you have that psychotic break, I’ll hold my tongue.”

That’s more than I expected. My entire chest feels like an anvil is being lifted off it.

“I’ve trained against the psychotic break. They turned me into a shell of a person. Now I use it against them. But my mind? My mind is whole, even if my soul is not.”

“How?” she asks, confused. “How do you train against the break?”

“Every form of martial arts I could squeeze in. From Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, to American Karate, to Colombian Grima, to Taekwando, to Bokator, to Krav Maga… You get the idea. I’ve gotten various black belts in an array of martial arts. Not to mention the weapons’ training I’ve mastered—knife throwing being one. You learn discipline over your mind with each new form of fighting or training. You learn control. It made me stronger mentally, physically, and emotionally.”