Page 70 of Trick or Treat
"He's turning softon us."
"Shut the fuck up, Riley," Saint bites viciously, a possessive, vengeful look swirling in his eyes.
"Are you turning soft too, Saint?"
"Don't make me shut you the fuck up." A single threat has Riley tight-lipped, sitting on the cold, snowy grass as Saint heads back inside too, taking the blunt with him. Glancing at Riley, I shake my head, conflicted about the whole situation myself.
"What, are you having second thoughts too?" he asks, dragging the tip of his knife through the snow.
"No… I'm not."
And although I am having second thoughts, I'm not going to tell him that. But that's not what's on my mind right now—my mind is stuck on something else—something that has never made sense to me.
How the fuck did Carli get hit with a bullet perfectly between the fucking eyes by a dumb fucking kid waving a gun around? It can't just be dumb luck, can it? But how can it be explained then? What really happened that night?
"What are you in your head about, Nix?" he asks, still playing around with his knife, swiping the pads of his fingers along the sharpened edge.
His curious eyes bore into mine as if trying to find the answer he's searching for, but this one I'm keeping to myself… for now, anyway.
"Nothing, I'm just bored. Can we go kill someone?"
He grins as soon as the words leave my lips, which I knew he would. "What do you have in mind?"
"I feel like a chase tonight… I'm missing the thrill. Don't get me wrong. I love what we have with Scarlett and how she's always at our fucking disposal, but there's nothing like the chase, Ri; seeing the fear in their eyes when they run for their fucking lives…" I look toward the sky, my eyes darkening as a fog of murderous desire clouds them, adrenaline coursing through my veins. "And seeing the look in their eyes when I put my knife to their fucking throat... it's the fucking best." He nods his head, grinning as sadistically as ever.
"I know what you're talkingabout... I miss it too. Since Scarlett, we haven't had that." We both sigh, looking toward the Mausoleum.I wonder if he's thinking the same thing.
"I know they want to keep her, Nix," he says, pressing the tip of the blade between his fingers until drops of blood drip onto the freshly fallen snow, painting it red. "But I think she needs to go. She's fucking changedeverythingup between us and I don't fucking like it." Pain coats his voice as he speaks, but his eyes still look diabolical.
"I love her, yeah, of course… but I think we need to kill her." He sinks the knife deeper into his finger and drags it down, making a small slice. Blood leaks quickly from the cut as he brings his finger to his mouth, curling his tongue around it to clean it up.
"What do you think?"
"What do I think?" I ask, not knowing the answer.
"I know that I love her. That was never part of this fucking plan and I think that's where it all went fucking wrong…" I sigh, shaking my head, already knowing her fate regardless of what I want to do. "We all fucked up and fell in love with her fucking psycho ass."
"Yeah, I get that," he says impatiently, wanting to know the answer to his other question.
"What about the other thing? Do you wanna keep her or do you wanna kill her, Nix? You gotta pick one." He sucks on his finger, the blood from the cut staining his perfect teeth red. Grinning confidently, I pull out a smoke and light it, imagining running my blade over Scarlett's body, pressing it against her throat…
"I wanna k…"
Saint
Alreadyfeeling the effects of the dust, I pull out a cigarette and hand the blunt to Blade, trying to be quiet so Scarlett doesn't notice us.
"I'm good with this."
"There's still half a blunt," he says, shocked almost.
"Yeah, but there's a lot of dust on it and I'm high as fuck," he laughs, taking another huge rip, his eyes trained on Scarlett as she changes.
"Can't go through with it, can you?" I ask, not taking my eyes off of her either.
"Nope. I thought I could, but I can't fucking do it, Saint. I can't fucking kill her. I fucking love her too much." Finally, he admits it, which I had already known.
"What about you?" Feeling better having heard his admission, I take a drag off my cigarette and tell him.