Page 435 of Good Boys Don’t Bite

“You came.” Ronan’s expression softened. “Yeah.” “You were late.” Ronan checked the clock. “By two minutes.” “You said you never are.” “That text wasn’t for Saint.” “I know.”

Ronan stared. “How?” “Vance told me.” “Of course.” Elliot looked him over. No bruises beyond the older ones. No fresh blood. Good. Ronan caught it.

“I’m fine.” “Actually?” “Yes.” “Parents?” “Fine.” “Mom?” “Pissed that nobody will let her install the cameras herself.” Elliot smiled. “That sounds right.” “Dad has become a full-time security consultant despite knowing nothing about security.”

“Also right.” “Claire’s staying with her sister.” “Good.” “Dylan has two officers outside his room and hates them both.” “Also good.” Ronan sat. Elliot followed. Three feet again. Too far. Ronan looked tired. Really tired.

“You sleep?” “Some.” “Liar.” “Four hours.” “That’s not enough.” “You got arrested and became my mother.” “Someone has to.” Ronan smiled. Then his expression shifted. The room went quiet. Elliot knew. The real conversation.

“I told you I’d come.” “Yes.” “And I came.” “Yes.” “Do you believe me now?” Elliot stared. “What?” “When I say I’m still here.” His throat tightened.

“Yes.” Ronan watched. “Actually?” Elliot looked away. “Mostly.” “Elliot.” “I’m trying.” Ronan leaned forward. “So am I.” Silence. Elliot rubbed his thumb against the table. “I thought maybe they wouldn’t let you.” “They almost didn’t.” “Because of Saint.” “Yes.” His jaw tightened. Ronan saw. “No.” “What?” “Don’t start planning how to fix that.” “I wasn’t.” “Liar.” “Maybe.” Ronan smiled faintly. “Better.” Then Elliot looked toward the camera. Ronan followed. “They’re probably watching.” “Yes.” “Saint.” “Maybe.” Elliot hated that word now. Ronan continued. “Does it matter?” He looked back. “What?” “If they watch.” “Yes.” “Why?” “Because this is ours.” Ronan’s expression softened. “There it is.” “What?” “The thing you actually care about.” Elliot frowned. “Obviously.”

“No.” Ronan leaned closer. “You care about being watched when it touches us.” Elliot stared. “Saint watched your murders.” “Yes.” “Messaged you.” “Yes.” “Followed you.” “Yes.” “You tolerated it.” “For a while.” “But the bedroom.” Elliot’s jaw tightened. “The bite.” More. “The visit.” Enough. Ronan smiled faintly. “You hate them seeing something that belongs to us.” “Yes.” Possession. Again. He knew. Ronan did too. Then Ronan said: “Let them watch.” Elliot froze. “What?” “Seriously.” “No.” “Why?” “Because fuck them.” “Exactly.” Ronan leaned back. “They keep turning everything into proof they own some part of this.”

Elliot said nothing. “So stop treating their attention like power.” “That sounds annoyingly healthy.” “I know.” “Who are you?” “Trauma changed me.” Elliot laughed. Ronan smiled. Then softened. “If Saint watches me show up anyway, what do they learn?” Elliot stared. “That they can find you.”

“No.” “What?” “That I came.” Silence. Ronan continued. “They said don’t be late.” “Yes.” “I came because I told you I would.” Elliot felt his chest tighten. “Not because they told me to.” There. Choice. Again. Ronan touched the table. Not Elliot. Close.

“That belongs to us.” Elliot stared at his hand. Then moved his own forward. Their fingers stopped an inch apart. No touching. Camera. Officer. Rules. Ronan looked at the gap. Then him.

“Annoying.” “Yes.” “Tomorrow too.” Elliot froze. “What?” “I already asked.” “For another visit?” “Yes.” Relief. Again. Fuck. Ronan smiled. “You look like somebody gave you a puppy.” “Shut up.” “You do.” “I hate you.” “No, you don’t.” Elliot looked down. “No.” Ronan’s expression changed. Soft. Dangerous in a different way. “You still my boyfriend?” Elliot looked up sharply. Ronan smiled. “You started it.” “Yes.” “So?” Elliot felt ridiculous. Twenty-one. Detention. Five confessed murders. And somehow the question made him nervous.

“Yes.” Ronan nodded. “Good.”

Elliot stared. Ronan caught himself. “Allowed?” A tiny smile. “Yes.” They sat quietly for several seconds. Then Elliot asked: “Did you talk to Caleb?” Ronan’s face changed. There. He had. Fuck. “When?” “This morning.” Elliot’s jaw tightened. “You said—” “I said not yesterday.” “That’s bullshit.” “I know.” “Ronan.” “Listen.” “No.” “Elliot.” “You went after I asked you not to.” “Yes.” “Without telling me.” “Yes.” “And Saint knows.” “Probably.” Elliot’s pulse sharpened. Ronan leaned forward. “I had Vance.” “Saint has beaten Vance repeatedly.” “I had federal officers too.” “Saint is inside federal detention.” “Potentially digitally.” “That’s not better.” Ronan held his gaze. “I chose to go.” Elliot stopped. There. The word. Choice. Ronan continued. “You don’t get to protect me by making every decision for me.” Elliot looked away. “I know.” “Do you?” “Yes.” “Then be pissed.” “I am.” “Good.”

Allowed. Elliot almost said it. Didn’t. Ronan continued. “But listen.” “Fine.” “Caleb confirmed Saint used the same pattern.” “Rewards.” “Yes.” “Punishment.” “Yes.” “People close to him.” “Yes.” Elliot’s jaw tightened. Ronan watched. “He said something else.” “What?” “Saint always wanted confession prevented.” “I know.” “No. More specific.” Ronan’s expression tightened. “Saint would create a second secret.” Elliot frowned. “What?” “If Caleb threatened to tell his brother about Saint, Saint gave him something worse to hide.”

Cold moved through Elliot. “What kind?” “Photos. Messages. Evidence that could make Caleb look dangerous.”

“Manufactured?” “Some.” “Some?” Ronan nodded. “Others were real things Caleb had done.” Nothing criminal. Probably. Still. Elliot understood. Layers. Secret protecting secret. Tyler. Then murder. Then Ronan. Then Dylan. Everything compounding until confession cost too much. Saint’s architecture.

“What’s the second secret for me?” Ronan stared. Elliot knew before he answered. “The murders.” “Yes.” “But those weren’t created by Saint.” “No.” “Encouraged.”

“Maybe.” Elliot’s jaw tightened. Ronan softened. “Your choice.” “Yes.” There. Responsibility back. Good. Then Elliot frowned. “What’s yours?” Ronan froze. Exactly. If Saint used the same pattern, Ronan needed a second secret. Something worse. Something he’d hide to protect Elliot. His lies? Evidence? Maybe.

“You hid the mask.” Elliot’s chest tightened. Ronan nodded slowly. “Could be.” “You lied.” “Yes.” “Destroyed your phone.” “Yes.” “Threatened Saint.” “Yes.” Ronan looked uncomfortable. “That’s enough.” “No.” “What?” Elliot leaned forward. “Saint keeps escalating.” “I know.” “If your existing secrets aren’t enough—” “They’ll give me another.” Silence. Both understood. Ronan looked toward the camera. “Great.” Elliot’s pulse increased. “No.” “Here we go.” “You need to leave.” Ronan stared. “What?” “Now.” “Why?” “If Saint wants to create another secret for you, being here gives them an opportunity.”

“Doing what?” “I don’t know.” “Then stop.”

“Ronan.” “No.” He leaned closer. “I am not leaving early because Saint might do something.” “You could be safer—” “Where?” That stopped him. Home compromised. County compromised. Federal compromised. Campus. Hospital. Everywhere. Ronan continued.

“Saint’s whole game works because everybody starts moving where they tell them to move.”

Silence. “So I’m sitting here for the rest of my twenty-five minutes.” Elliot stared. “You’re stubborn.” “Yes.” “I hate it.” “Liar.” “Yes.” That earned a smile. Then Ronan’s temporary phone vibrated outside. They both heard it faintly through the door. No phones allowed inside. The officer looked down. Another vibration. Ronan’s face tightened. Elliot looked toward the door.

“Saint.” “Probably.” The officer opened the door. “Mr. Vale?” Ronan turned. “You have an emergency message.” Everything inside Elliot went cold. “What?” The officer hesitated. “Detective Vance asked me to end the visit.” Ronan stood. Elliot did too. “No.” Ronan looked at him. “I know.” “What happened?” “We don’t know yet.” The officer’s expression suggested they did. Ronan stepped toward the door. Elliot’s chest tightened.

“Ronan.”

He stopped. Looked back. There. Promise. Still. “I’ll come tomorrow.” “What happened?” “I’ll find out.” “Ronan.” “I’m not disappearing.” Elliot’s breathing changed. The officer waited. Ronan looked directly at him.

“Tomorrow.” Elliot nodded. “Tomorrow.” Ronan left. The door closed. Elliot stared. The clock read 10:17. Visit ended early. Saint. Of course. He sat. No. He couldn’t. He paced. Three steps. Turn. Three. The officer outside spoke into a radio. Nothing Elliot could hear. Then Vance appeared. Too fast. She entered. Elliot stared.

“What happened?” “Ronan received a message.” “What message?” Vance hesitated. “Tell me.” She pulled out her phone. Showed him. Photograph. Black storage container. His container. Open. Mask inside. But not beneath the stairs. The background was wrong. Concrete floor. Fluorescent light. Unknown room. Elliot stopped breathing.

“The mask.” “Yes.” “No.” “What?” “It was at the house.” “Not anymore.” His pulse slammed. “When?” “We don’t know.” “Ronan didn’t move it.” “No.” “You’re sure?” “Yes.” “How?” “House cameras show someone entering the carriage house at 9:31 this morning.”