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If that wasn’t already obvious from our sordid encounters.
“What about Zoey?” I ask, wanting to stir the pot in revenge for Jen’s nosiness. “Is she joining in on the fun, too?”
Jen rolls her eyes, awkward tension tightening her expression at the mention of her romantic rival. Gwen clears her throat as we approach the counter and give our orders to the barista. Jen gets a sweet mocha, Gwen chooses a seasonal pumpkin spice latte, and I stick with my usual black coffee. After finding a free booth, we slide in, Gwen by my side and Jen across from us.
“My colleague David and I will be at the Fright Night Festival,” I bring up casually. “We’re the ones assigned to write an article about it. You ladies going?”
Jen perks up, her brown eyes wide with excitement. “I never miss a year! I always dress up in costume, too. It’d be a social faux pas not to.”
I lean forward on the table, feigning interest. “You never said what you were going as.”
“I went with a classic: a witch!” She beams, eager to divulge her idea. “But instead of the traditional black dress and pointed hat, I’m gonna add some modern flair. Leather boots, crystals … It’s gonna be so cool!”
An employee walks over to us, carrying our orders. Once our drinks are on the table, I take a sip of my coffee. Gwen stirs her latte slowly, her gaze distant, while Jen continues talking about her costume.
After a few more minutes of discussion, Gwen finally speaks up. “I need to take a … potty break.” Her eyes flit to me briefly before I scoot out of the booth to allow her space to exit. She moves past me to stand, giving me another pointed look, and then departs for the unisex restroom.
“Um, yeah. Excuse me,” I say to Jen, who raises her brow as I hastily follow Gwen.
I enter close behind her and scan the stalls; no one else is in here. I want to lock the door, but I can’t risk freaking Gwen out—not yet. So I hover nearby, shifting from foot to foot as she examines herself in the mirror.
“Wanna go to the festival together?” I ask, my voice a little too loud in the empty bathroom. “Or at least hang out between my note-taking?”
She stares at her reflection for a few more moments. “Sure,” she says with a slight shrug of her shoulders.
Not as enthusiastic of an answer as I wish, but it’ll do. “We can meet up there, check out the festivities together. There’s gonna be some bands playing, a costume contest … It’ll be fun.”
She’s still unfocused as she finishes her business, and we exit the bathroom. I wonder what’s on her mind. Our trysts, perhaps? But one thing’s for sure.
She’ll have something to be really distracted about soon.
I’m in the park, hiding amongst the trees, waiting for my beloved Gwen.
Earlier, I taped the note to her vanity mirror. As I glimpse my watch and tap my foot impatiently, I can’t help but wonder if she could have missed it. After everything we’ve shared, I doubt she would ignore me. She should be here any second now.
And right on cue, there she is.
However, she is tardy tonight, which is quite odd for her. I suspect she’s not getting much sleep, and she probably passed out on the couch again watching shitty sitcom reruns. Good thing I have this prepared for her, I think, patting my pocket—where I’ve tucked a needle, all ready to go. It’s a carefully controlled amount of sedative. I don’t want to risk harming my Little Finch. Not like this, anyway.
She finally makes it to the rendezvous spot, warily eyeing the bench as if it’s poisoned. I take a few steps forward, revealing myself. She stops dead in her tracks, startled. Her face only relaxes a bit when she realizes it’s me.
“Hi there, Gwen,” I say, hoping to ease some of the tension that’s got her coiled tight. “Relax. I won’t hurt you.”
“What do you have planned?” she asks, jaw set and guard still up. Ignoring the question, I come closer, and she whips out a taser, her finger on the button, her gaze never leaving me. “Stay back,” she orders, exhaustion heavy in her voice.
“I just want to make sure you get enough rest—because we have quite the trip ahead of us,” I say softly, closing in on her.
She looks at me skeptically, unsure of what to do or say. I approach her, twirling a strand of her dyed red hair around my finger before tucking it behind her ear. A shudder runs through her, momentarily distracting her. Then I pull out the syringe—and jab it into her neck in one swift move.
Eyes widening in shock, she stares up at me, clutching her throat where I injected her. “W-what did you do to me?!”
I hold up the syringe for her to see. She stares at me in disbelief, her body swaying as her eyelids start to flutter closed. I guide her to the bench, pry the taser from her grasp, and wait, mentally keeping count. After a minute, she loses consciousness.
I scoop up her limp body into my arms and whisk her away to my car, where I drive her to the abandoned warehouse outside of town.
Chapter
Seventeen
