Page 21 of Slaying for Sloan
But when it comes to me, they’re never right.
The sound of frantic footsteps catches up to me. His breath comes in short, sharp bursts, puffing out in the cold night air. His footsteps echo, panicked, like they know they’re getting closer to their own demise.
I stop mid-step, letting him see my silhouette framed by the moonlight. The stillness is intentional. I want him to think he’s caught me off guard, that he has some kind of control overthis situation. That’s how it always starts—the false sense of confidence before everything goes to shit.
I expect nothing less from this piece of shit.
He freezes for a moment, then tries to step back. Fucker is probably hoping he can turn around and run, but he’s too slow. Too predictable. Rats always run forward, even when they know the trap is waiting.
“What’s the matter?” I call over my shoulder, my voice light and playful, deliberately soft. “You lost, friend?”
I don’t need to look at him to know his eyes are wide with fear, his breath shallow. It’s exactly what I want to hear. Thedesperation.
“You’re sick, man!” His voice shakes, but there’s anger in it, a spark of self-righteousness that grates on my nerves. “You’re damn well deserving of rotting in the deepest pits of hell.”
I turn slowly, the crunch of snow beneath my boots echoing in the cold night air. The moonlight glints off his face, casting shadows that make his wide, terrified eyes seem almost unreal. His breath comes in sharp, shallow bursts, and I can see the fear dripping off him like sweat, freezing before it hits the ground. He’s trembling, but there’s a defiance in him—one that makes me smile.
I take a step closer, my voice low and deliberate. “Burn in hell, huh?” I chuckle darkly, letting the words hang between us. “You’re upset because you think you have the power to damn me. But what you don’t realize is… hell’s a place for those who lose control. And I, my friend, have never been more in control than I am right now.”
His jaw tightens. His fists clench at his sides, knuckles turning white. I can see the muscles in his neck straining under the weight of his rage. It’s pathetic.
“I saw you,” he snarls, his voice raw with accusation. “You fucking killed Marcus. You drowned him, held him under the water like it was nothing!”
I grin. A slow, wicked curve of my lips. “Because it was.”
The words hit him like a slap, his expression twisting in a way that’s both horrifying and… satisfying. There it is—fear, disbelief, and disgust all rolled into one. “You’re insane!” he spits, his voice cracking under the weight of what he’s just realized.
“No,” I say, tilting my head again, letting the edge of my smile widen. “Just thorough.”
I take a step forward, and his eyes bulge. His chest heaves. He knows what comes next. He knows this is the end of the line. But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters.
He stumbles back, but I don’t let him go far. I close the distance between us, fast and decisive.
“I’m going to the cops,” he snaps, his voice trembling, a mix of fear and defiance leaking through. “You’re done. You think you can do this and just walk away?”
I let out a laugh, cold and sharp, like glass breaking. “Walk away? Buddy, I’m planning a whole parade. But go ahead. Tell them Alex did it. See how far that gets you.”
He pulls out his phone, fingers shaking as he starts recording, the screen lighting up with his shaky image. “I’m going to make sure they know everything,” he says, his voice filled with a desperate hope.
The look on his face is almost pathetic as he thinks that’s his salvation.
I step closer, a slow grin curling at the corner of my mouth. “You think that’s going to save you?” I ask, my voice dripping with amusement.
His confusion deepens, his brow furrowing as he stares at the screen, trying to make sense of the situation. But he doesn’trealize what I know—that at this hour, in this darkness, there’s no way anyone will be able to tell me apart from my brother.
I move closer, the shadows swallowing me, and lean in just close enough for him to hear my next words, my tone as smooth as silk but carrying a dangerous edge.
“You should’ve thought this through a little more,” I whisper, my smile widening as I slowly pull the ski mask over my head, revealing my face to him in the dim light. “You’re recording a ghost.”
“Alex?” He mutters the name like it’s a whisper, like a prayer.
There it is.
I can see the exact moment the pieces click together in his mind. His eyes widen, darting over my face, my frame.
“You... Holy shit, you’re—”
It feels so damn good to finally reveal myself. To let him see me for who I really am, even though he has no idea I’m not my twin. I can see the realization dawn in his eyes, the betrayal running deep.