30. Chapter 30

Chapter 30

IZEL

I sit across from Richard, smoking a cigarette, watching his unconscious form. Getting him here to the motel was a nightmare, especially with his huge muscular frame. But a few bills exchanged in the right hands made it possible. His head wound still looks nasty, even after I tried to clean it up. I hope he wakes up soon.

I knew the FBI was tailing me after Richard left me in my house earlier. It was difficult to collect myself, but I had to. I’m still not sure why Richard gave me a head start when he wanted to arrest me anyway. Maybe he saw something in me, something that made him hesitate. Or maybe he just wanted to fuck with my head.

He stirs in his sleep, and I feel a pang of something I don’t want to acknowledge. Hurt, anger, disgust—I should be feeling all that and more. He used my emotions against me, played me like a fiddle. But right now, all I feel is worry. Genuine, gut-wrenching worry.

I take another drag, tapping the ash into a cheap plastic tray. The room’s quiet, except for the occasional creak of the old building settling. It’s giving me too much time to think. I hate thinking.

Richard’s eyes open with a groan as he tries to push himself upright. “Easy there, big guy,” I say. “You’ve been through the wringer.”

He blinks, forcing his focus on me. “Izel?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Just stay still for a bit.”

He lifts his hand to touch his head but stops short when he feels the shackles. He looks at me, and his confusion starts turning to anger.

“What is this?”

I laugh internally. The least he could do is show some gratitude after I saved his ass. “Thank you, Izel. I’m glad I’m not dead,” I say, evading his question.

Despite himself, Richard chuckles, and it makes my heart flutter, even though I hate to admit it. “Yeah, I’d much rather want him dead than me,” he says, shaking his head. “Thanks.”

I shrug, not acknowledging it.

“Why am I tied up?”

“Some people tend to get grumpy when they wake up,” I reply.

“You really think these would hold me?”

He sighs, tugging at the restraints, and then easily slips one hand free, then the other.

“Worth a shot.”

I knew those shackles wouldn’t hold him; the guy’s FBI, for fuck’s sake, trained to get out of worse scrapes than zip-tie like handcuffs in a dingy motel room.

I click the safety off my gun, a soft, almost silent reminder that I’m not totally defenseless here. The slight noise is enough. His eyes flick to the gun in my hand, and he raises an eyebrow.

“Where’s all my stuff?”

“Safe with me,” I nod towards the table where his wallet, badge, and gun lay just out of his reach. Right then, his phone starts ringing, vibrating against the tabletop, lighting up the room with the sharp glow of an incoming call.

He squints at me. “You know I can have you in for life behind bars.”

Typical cop intimidation crap.

“You really should stay away from this case if you want to live,” I say, ignoring his prison threat. “I can’t keep trailing you for the rest of your life.”

“It's funny coming from you, considering you tried to kill me twice,” he accuses.

I don’t answer immediately. What the hell is he talking about? His words don’t make sense, and I can't afford to show my hand if I'm not sure what game we're playing.

It’s good that Martin hacked into the GPS system of Richard's car so I could know his location. When I saw him getting closer to me, I was going to abandon my car and make a run for it. But then I saw someone attacking Richard, and I wasn’t going to let him die.

“I don’t get it. Why send people to kill me only to save me? What’s your angle here?”

I start to speak, “I did—”

“If saving me is your way of playing the victim card, don’t. It’s not working.”

“I didn’t send anyone to kill you. I saw someone attacking you, and I reacted. That’s it.”

“Oh, sure. You just happened to be in the right place at the right time, huh?”

He’s not buying it. His eyes are filled with suspicion and anger, and I don’t blame him.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care if you believe it or not. It’s the truth,” I snap. “You know what? Feel free to be a jerk and use sex to get the truth out of me since it's the only time you seem to believe anything I say. Although, I think that trick might not work anymore.”

I see a flash of guilt cross his face, and for a moment, he looks almost human. “That was... I shouldn’t have done that. It was wrong.”

I don’t respond to that. I have nothing left to say. Richard’s phone buzzes again, and he glances at it, then back at me.

“You should arrest me.”

It’s the only way. If I’m locked up, out of reach, then Victor won’t have any reason to come after Richard. He’ll have no more leverage.

Richard scoffs, or maybe it’s more of a bitter laugh, like I’ve just suggested the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. His hand moves to his face, palming it like he’s wiping away the absurdity of the situation. “I can’t.”

I blink, thrown off by the rawness in his tone. I don’t know what to say. I thought he’d jump at the chance to do what he’s been threatening to do from the start.

“No, wait,” he adds, dropping his hand and looking at me. “I don’t want to.” His words are almost broken, like admitting that costs him something.

“And it’s actually funny,” he murmurs, shaking his head like the thought sickens him. “Considering I’ve spent the last few hours convincing myself that locking you up would fix everything. But what would that even mean if the girl I fell in love with wasn’t there anymore? I would lose the woman who challenges me, who makes me feel alive, who makes me want to tear my hair out one second and worship her the next.”

“Richard, I—”

“So no,” he cuts me off. “I’m not going to lock you up because I’m willing to choose you. I’ve always believed in following the rules, but for you... for you, I’d crush the system. I’d burn it all down if it meant keeping you safe. You’re everything I’m supposed to go after, everything I’m supposed to fight against. But I’m willing to fight for you instead.”

I look into his eyes, seeing the pain, the conflict. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he says. “I’ve seen the worst humanity has to offer. I’ve spent years hunting monsters, thinking that was my purpose. But then you came into my life, and everything changed. I realized that I don’t want to live in a world without you. You're the air I breathe, the reason my heart still beats. If I take that away, I'm just a corpse waiting to rot. I don’t care about the rules, the job, any of it. Because how do you arrest the person who holds your heart captive?”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “Richard...”

He continues. “I’m willing to throw it all away for you. I’d go rogue, turn my back on everything I’ve ever known. I’d fight the whole damn system if it meant feeling your heartbeat next to mine. But you need to come with me. Leave behind whatever vendetta you have against people. We can start over, away from all this. We can have a life together.”

If not for the look in his eyes, I might’ve believed he was lying—that this was just another one of his tricks to lure me in, to get me into custody without a fight. But the way he’s looking at me, like I’m the only thing holding him together, it tells me he’s not faking this. He’s not playing me. And somehow, that makes it hurt even more.

“Will you?” he asks again, his voice softer, almost breaking. “Will you come with me?”

The offer hangs in the air, so tantalizingly close yet so impossibly far. It sounds so perfect, like a fairytale. But I know better. Fairytales don’t exist for people like me.

Richard knows it too. His business face falls into place, replacing the warm expression I’d been craving. He gave me a taste of what I wanted, but I didn’t take it. And now, reality crashes back in.

“That’s what I thought,” he says, and I hate that his voice is filled with resignation. The silence between us is deafening. Neither of us speaks. The only noise is the persistent buzzing of his phone on the table.

“You probably should get that.”

“How many times has it gone off?” he asks, nodding toward the buzzing phone.

“I stopped counting after five.”

“Who’s calling me?” he asks suspiciously.

“It’s Wilson,” I reply. “Why the hell does he keep calling you?”

“Well, you did leave me a crime scene,” he says, exasperated. “Has it always been this effortless for you to kill someone?”

“It was a first, actually.”

“How many people have you killed?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I walk toward him. I straddle his lap, my knees digging into the worn mattress on either side of him. His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move.

“Stay out of trouble, Richard,” I warn. “Next time, I won’t be around to save your ass.”

He opens his mouth, probably to ask what the hell I mean, but I cut him off with a kiss. I expected him to push me away, to react with the righteous anger I’m so used to from him. Instead, he pulls me closer. His hand tangles in my hair, yanking my head back slightly as he deepens the kiss.

Between the kisses his voice slips out. “Come with me, and I’ll dismantle the system that turned us into enemies.”

“Richard,” I warn, pulling back slightly, but he doesn’t let me go. His hand grips my waist, hard enough to bruise, like he’s afraid if he lets me loose, I’ll vanish for good.

“I’d be their villain if I have to,” he murmurs between kisses, sealing the promise with every word. “But I’ll never be yours.” His lips move to my jaw, then my neck, grazing my skin as if he’s marking his territory, and it’s making it harder to think, to breathe.

“You have to let me go. You hate disappointing people, remember?” I continue. “You’ve spent your whole life playing by their rules, chasing people like me. Don’t act like you’re ready to throw it all away just because I’ve got you questioning everything.”

“I’d disappoint the entire goddamn world before I ever let you go,” he growls. His breath is ragged, his grip on me unyielding, and fuck, I can’t decide if I should push him off or pull him closer.

I yank back, just enough to look at him. “Why?”

“Because you’re worth every disappointment.”

My throat tightens, and I don’t know what to say, what to do with those words, with the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters.

Thankfully I don't have to respond because his mouth crashes back onto mine. It’s hard, desperate, full of everything we can’t say. His hands roam over my body like he’s memorizing every inch, every curve, as if this is the last time he’ll ever touch me. Maybe it is.

I try to pull back, but he’s not having it. His other hand grips my waist, holding me in place.

“What am I supposed to do with you?” he growls against my lips.

I break the kiss, breathless. “Maybe you should search me, arrest me, or cuff me.”

He chuckles darkly. “You're making it sound very tempting.”

He pulls me back into the kiss, rougher this time. I can taste the anger, the frustration, and something deeper, something that scares me.

The logical part of my brain is screaming at me to stop, but my body’s responding in ways I can’t control. His hand leaves my waist, sliding up my back.

I can’t let myself get distracted. With a steady hand, I reach for the syringe in my back pocket. While his lips crush against mine, I manage to slip the needle into his skin.

For a moment, he doesn’t react, lost in the kiss. But then his grip on me starts to loosen, and his movements become sluggish. He pulls away, confusion clouding his eyes.

“Wait,” he rasps, instinctively reaching for his neck where the sting of the needle lingers. “What—”

“Too late,” I murmur, cutting him off.

His eyes flutter, struggling to stay open, but the sedative takes hold dragging him into unconsciousness. I watch him slump against the mattress.

I didn’t want to do it, but I had no choice. Richard’s too unpredictable.

I make my way down the stairs. This isn’t the life I chose, but it’s the one I’m stuck with. Richard’s too stubborn to see the bigger picture. Everything for him is black and white, right and wrong. But in my world, it’s all just varying shades of gray.

I walk to my car, the familiar scent of tobacco swirling around me, grounding me. But as I get closer, all the hurt I’ve been running from comes crashing down. Being near Richard made me forget, for just a moment, all the shit he said and did to me. But now, it’s catching up to me. I wipe a stray tear from my eye, cursing myself for even letting it fall.

Driving never felt this fucking endless. Each mile marker seems to mock me, reminding me how far I’m falling, how deep I’ve dug myself into this hole. Hollowbrook seems a world away, but every inch closer feels like a step toward my own execution.

Who knew falling in love could be this devastating? That it could tear open your chest and leave you so raw, so exposed?

Why does love feel like the hardest con to pull off? Every sweet moment between us now tastes bitter, tainted by the secrets I kept tucked away, thinking I could maybe have it both ways. But you can’t, can you? You try to steal a bit of happiness, and life comes at you with a vengeance, ready to collect its due.

“Maybe I should just turn myself in,” I mutter, entertaining the thought for a half-hearted second. But who am I kidding? I’m no martyr, and this isn’t some tragic love story where the heroine sacrifices everything for redemption. This is real life, and in real life, people like me don’t get happy endings. We get a cell and a shitload of time to think about where it all went wrong.

I pull up to the Montclair manor. With a deep breath, I step out of the car and make my way inside. The familiar scent of the mansion hits me, mingling with memories of a childhood long gone.

“Isla,” my grandmother’s voice calls out.

I force a smile as I greet her. Isla—she was the girl who should have had everything. The perfect family, the lavish lifestyle. But I ruined it all for her.

For the world, I may have been Izel, but for her, I’ll always be Isla. It’s strange how easy it is to change digital records these days. Martin helped me with that, of course. There was no way I was going to live under Isla’s identity any longer than I had to. It was suffocating, like wearing a mask that never quite fit right.

I push open the door to the backyard, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the mansion. And there he is—Victor, playing fucking golf like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

I stride over to him, and I hate that my boots are sinking into the plush grass with each step. He looks up, barely sparing me a glance before swinging his club. The ball flies off into the distance, disappearing into the horizon.

“What do you want?” he grunts, not bothering to look at me.

“Why is the FBI chasing after me?”

He finally turns to face me, a smug smile playing on his lips. “I may have pointed the FBI in your direction.”

“Why?” I snap, stepping closer. “I did everything you asked—every goddamn thing.”

He walks past me, casually lining up another shot. He sinks the ball into the hole like it’s nothing, barely giving me a glance as he straightens up, dusting his hands off. “Let’s just say... I got bored.” His eyes flash with cruel amusement as he turns toward me, rolling his shoulders back like he’s been carrying the weight of the world. “Besides, the chase for the Ghostface Striker is picking up steam. It's only a matter of time before they take you down. Thought I’d save your FBI boyfriend the trouble.”

“You’re trying to make him hate me. You want him to be the one who takes me down.”

His grin widens, and he drops the club onto the grass, stepping closer. “You’re smarter than you look.”

By putting the FBI on my trail and trying to turn Richard against me, Victor thinks he’s making me miserable. He believes he’s in control, just like he always has been. He knows how much Richard means to me, and he’s using that against me, trying to break me.

But what Victor doesn’t realize is that I was one step ahead of him all along. When I walked out of witness protection, it wasn’t just to protect Richard—it was to lead Victor right where I wanted him. For years, he’s kept me away from the one place that holds all the answers, feeding me lies, giving me false leads. But I’ve always wanted to go back there, to settle the unfinished business that’s haunted me for so long. Victor would never willingly lead me there, but now, in his attempt to crush me, he’s done exactly that.

When I threatened Victor after he threatened Richard, I knew it would be the final straw. That was the moment he realized just how deep my feelings for Richard ran, and in his arrogance, he thought he could use that to destroy me. But instead, he’s played right into my hands. He’s brought me closer to the truth than ever before, and now, I’m on the brink of finding what I’ve been searching for a decade.

Victor thinks he’s won, but he has no idea that by pushing me, he’s only made me stronger. He’s about to learn that the place he’s been keeping me from isn’t just a trap for me—it’s a trap for him too. And this time, I’m the one holding the key.

“So, what’s your plan now, Izel? On the run? Wouldn't you want to do just that, considering the FBI is tailing you?”

I take a deep breath. For the first time, I have an edge over him. “I will. But not before I put away all your minions who are hell-bent on trying to kill Richard. Including you.”

Victor’s laughter echoes through the yard, patronizing and dismissive. “You? Kill me? Don’t make me laugh. You don’t have it in you.”

I meet his gaze, unflinching. “Don’t I?”

Without breaking eye contact, I pull out my phone and swipe to the picture I took earlier. The man I killed is all over the news. I turn the screen towards Victor, letting him see the proof of what I’ve done.

His eyes narrow, and for the first time, I see uncertainty. He wasn’t expecting this.

“Recognize him?” I ask coldly. “He’s one of yours, isn’t he? Well, not anymore. He’s kinda dead.”

Victor’s face contorts with rage, and he lunges forward, grabbing me by the neck. His grip is tight, cutting off my air, but I don’t flinch. I’ve been through worse.

“You think one dead minion makes you powerful?”

I struggle to breathe, but I manage to choke out the words. “It’s a start.”

“I could kill you right now.”

I force a smile, despite the pain. “But you won’t. You need me, remember?”

“You think you’ve outsmarted me, Izel? You’re more naive than I thought.”

“You should check the news.”

That gets him. The look in his eyes changes from hesitation to confusion, and then he lets go, reaching for his phone. His fingers fumble as he unlocks it, and I can see the worry start to creep in.

“Fuck!” He curses as he swings at me. “Why the hell did you send those letters with the victims’ blood, you stupid bitch?!”

I cough, tasting blood, but the smirk doesn’t leave my face. “Because it won’t be long before the FBI figures out, I was the one writing them. I sent those letters before their deaths. I was practically saving them... or at least trying to. And when they start putting the pieces together, they’ll come straight for me. And when they do, I’ll have no choice but to rat you out.”

Victor lets out a cold, mocking laugh. “You always had a vivid imagination, didn’t you? How about this: you’re lounging on a beach in Hawaii, sipping cocktails while the FBI chases their tails. Or maybe you’re in a cozy cabin in the Rockies, completely off the grid. But the truth? You’ll be rotting in the same place I left you ten years ago. Now, tell me how the hell are you going to rat me out when you’ll be a living corpse. Tell me, how are you going to tell everyone I am the Ghostface Striker, the Slasher, or whatever the media’s calling me these days?”

I wish Richard was here to hear this. To finally witness the confession that I’ve been waiting for all these years. Because I know, deep down, this is the last time Victor will ever admit to killing anyone—from Hollowbrook to Virginia. It all started a decade ago, when I first tried to escape him. Since then, he’s made my life a living nightmare, punishing me in ways I could never have imagined.

First, he had Charles throw me into slavery, a fate worse than death. When that no longer tore me apart the way he wanted, he moved on. He started targeting my friends, picking them off one by one, making sure I felt that isolation, that crushing loneliness. He wanted me to feel like I had no one left. And when I stopped making friends—when I became too numb to care about the people around me—he switched tactics again.

He began killing anyone I came into close contact with. Every person who so much as glanced in my direction had a death sentence hanging over their head.

I wanted to report it. God knows I did. I wanted to put an end to it all—stop the bloodshed, stop the madness. But I couldn’t. Victor had something on me, something I couldn’t let see the light of day. Isla. I killed her. I did the one thing that haunts me every single night, that makes me sick to my core. And the thought of being locked away, craving something as simple as sunlight, it made me weak. Made me stay silent. But that leverage? It doesn’t hold the same weight anymore.

Because I fell in love.

I can’t let him touch Richard. I won’t . Even if it means spending the rest of my life behind bars, rotting in a cell. I’ll take that over losing Richard.

But there’s still one unfinished business left. One final thing I have to do before this all ends.

“I could destroy you with a single word. Make you disappear. You’d be nothing more than a ghost, just like you’ve always been.”

I don’t say anything. The silence must get to him because his eyes narrow, and before I can blink, his fist connects with my cheek.

“Tell me how the fuck are you going to rat me out now, huh?” he hisses.

I stay silent because the more he hits me, the more desperate he becomes, and the less I care. Each punch feels like a badge of honor, proof that I’m getting under his skin. I might be bleeding and bruised, but I’m not broken. Not yet.

“Answer me!” he roars, grabbing me by the shoulders and shaking me.

I start to black out, the edges of my vision blurring, when I hear him sneer, “Tick-tock, little girl. You’re going home.”