Page 11 of Dark Surrender

Dee quietly scopes out the space as I remove my sandals and set them on the floor, under the coat rack. She needs breathing room to take everything in. So that’s what I give her.

Once she’s through, she inspects my window full of plants. Perhaps window is an understatement. I scooted the kitchen table to the biggest window and filled it with as many plants as I could, while the others I didn’t have space for sit as close as I can get them to the other sills around my apartment. I love plants and flowers. No. Not love. Love is too basic a word. I’m obsessed with them. They’re my only connection to home when I’m living in a world of concrete and smog. Besides Dee, they’re my only friends. Which is sad, I know. But it’s always been this way.

Where Dee has always bonded with forest creatures, I bond with plants. There once was a time I named them, but when they died, I became heartsick, so I stopped doing that.

Claiming my favorite seat on my cushy, oversized gray couch, I wait for Dee to join me, which doesn’t take long. She tucks into the opposite corner, slowly turns her head, and glares right into my soul.

Not the least bit put off by her insanity, I return an equally impressive glare. “What?”

She jams a finger toward the table of green, very much alive and healthy plants.

Throwing my head back, I bark a laugh. “What did you expect me to do? You wouldn’t have come to visit me otherwise.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Dee huffs with her entire body.

I snort at her dramatics. “Can I make it up to you?”

Another huff and an eye roll is her response.

“What if I told you I spent all week scoping out this guy who was recently released from jail for hurting his wife and kid? What if I told you he’s staying with a cousin two blocks away, and that cousin is a known drug dealer? What if there’s a special bag under your bed?” I rattle off, knowing I’ve got her hook, line, and sinker.

Dee doesn’t say she forgives me, but her quick exit from the living room to her bedroom is enough for me. When she returns wearing a new pair of black tactile pants, a black shirt, and black boots, with her favorite black facemask perched atop her head, she’s glowing.

My favorite it’s-time-to-kill accessory is clutched in her fist, hanging at her side. Dee chucks it at me, and it lands on my lap with a dull thud. Clapping her hands, my sister nods for me to get the show on the road. She’s already armed and ready to take care of business.

“Under the sink,” I instruct with a chin lift as I stand and shrug into my leather jacket.

Dee whistles her thanks when she pulls out an identical pink cooler to the one at home. It’s newer and needs to be decked out in stickers, but now she has a container in the city to collect treats for Poppy.

She sets it on my island and knocks on the lid.

“Yeah. It’s solid. So, am I forgiven for lying about the plants? The sushi was worth it, right?”

Tilting her head to the side, Dee’s expression tightens as if she’s contemplating world peace. Her bullshit lasts only five seconds before her mouth pulls into a lopsided grin.

Asshole.

“See? I’m a good sister,” I announce, then head to my bedroom. I kneel next to my bed, pull the duffel out from under it, and unzip the thing. Inside is just what I need for tonight—guns, ammo, and a taser. I hide them in the pockets of my jacket before I don a comfy pair of socks from my closet and my favorite worn leather boots, which need a serious polish.

Once I’m ready, I find my sister by the front door, cooler in hand.

“Your patience is a wondrous thing,” I tease.

Dee offers me a blank, unimpressed stare, then flips me off.

I smile, happy to have her with me—not just to keep her safe, but to share the world with her. Not the small dot on the map where we grew up, or the pieces Dad let us access for their kills, but the real things. People. Sushi restaurants. Maybe an ice cream shop. There’s more to life than living in the woods and making friends with creatures. There’s more than killing.

Perhaps not much more for people like us. But together, we can venture out. It’s safer for her, and for me too.

Today proved she can handle exploring, in small doses, and I can handle Dee when she can no longer handle herself… well, most of the time.

Unlocking my apartment door, I bump my hip into my sister. “Just so we’re clear. We get in. We get out. In the country, you can play a little, but there won’t be time for that. It’s not safe here. There’s an entrance at the back of his building, no cameras, and you can’t give them a chance to scream. Throats first. The rest after. When we’re done, we go back out the way we came and leave the bodies. It has to look like a drug deal gone wrong.”

Dee nods in understanding and offers me a fist bump.

It’s showtime.

CHAPTER SEVEN