Chapter Four

Two Months ago

Waking up on a cold, hard table with a bright light shining above me is scarier than I'd imagined, and the shouting I heard as I was coming to is heartbreaking beyond compare.

"Timed that to perfection, you lucky bitch." My best friend's voice calms some of my fraying nerves as I wonder if this was all really worth it.

"Was that him?" My throat is as dry as the Sahara, my words almost catching for more than one reason as Spencer hands me a bottle of water, nodding solemnly in response. The water is cool and soothing and I gulp down the whole thing before stopping to breathe. "Did it work?"

Spencer's brows rise and he inhales sharply through his nose before replying on the exhale, "Yeah."

"Why're you saying it like that?" Tiredness rolls through my limbs as I slowly sit up, worried something went wrong, swinging my legs around so they're dangling off the table.

"Take it easy, Mackenzie. The drugs are still going to be in your system for at least another twenty-four hours, so you might have dizzy spells over the next few days." Steve, the mortuary technician and Spencer's current boyfriend, approaches me with a stethoscope. Holding the white sheet over my naked body, I let it drop a little so he has access to my chest to check my breathing.

"Thank you for this, Steve. I know how much trouble you could get into if anyone finds out how you've helped." I flinch a little at the coldness of the metal against my skin. My thoughts are all still trying to catch up to me right now, and I'm struggling to narrow down any particular emotion other than being happy I didn't die for real.

The drug I used to fake my death can be dangerous and cause permanent side effects or even death, but it was a risk I was willing to take. Along with the pouch of blood I wore beneath my shirt to pop at the race, the drug was necessary in case someone other than Spence or Steve wanted to check my vitals.

"Why do you look like you've been crying?" I eye my best friend, noting his puffy eyes as he casually leans against one of the empty steel tables in here.

"Had to make it believable, didn't we?" He shrugs, huffing a laugh with a smile that doesn't fully reach his eyes.

Wordlessly, I glare at him, trying and failing—still—to raise one single eyebrow.

"What are you doing with your face?" That smile of his grows as Steve finishes up whatever checks he's been making, scribbling down information on his metal clipboard.

"Trying to raise my damn eyebrow. Don't change the subject, though. Talk to me, Spence."

"Don't ever try that again because you look like you're having a stroke. And I'm fine. It's all fine." He pushes off from the table, smacks his palms against his jean-clad hips, and turns to grab the duffel bag from the corner of the room.

"Fuck off with that. We've all just broken the law. A lot. So spill." I gladly take the offered black T-shirt—that I may or may not have stolen from Aleko—and jeans Spence passes to me, beginning to shimmy the clothes on so I'm no longer naked beneath a practically see-through sheet. Both of the men currently in the room may bat for the men's team, but I feel wrong for being near-naked in front of anyone other than him.

"You didn't see him, Mac. He's broken. In fact, several of them are. That Bear dude, I think his name is, fell to his knees when he saw what happened. And he's a big fucking dude. It all felt so real and, for a moment, before my brain kicked in as we were driving back here, I couldn't help it. I imagined life without you, how I'd feel in their shoes. It's just…" Spencer sighs, shaking his head as he pulls out my sneakers and the red wig I plan on wearing when I walk out of here. "It's fucked up, Mac. I love you, but this is beyond the realms of normal. You know that, right?"

Way to hit a girl while she's down. I don't want to picture myself in anyone else's position because I know what I'm doing is fucked and dangerous, but I've been nothing but a tool since the morning after Dad died. I haven't been given the opportunity to figure out who I am as an adult without all the bullshit.

Living in a world full of monsters has led me down this path.

Surviving those monsters is a whole other thing. It's something I'm working on.

"Yeah, I know. But I owe you fucked up things in return; all you've gotta do is ask." Winking, I slide off the table to finish pulling my jeans on. I'm a little light-headed, but leaning against the surface helps as I slide the zipper up.

"You know I will." Stepping forward, Spence holds my arms, keeping me stable when he sees me struggling, and places a soft kiss on my cheek.

It's obvious we're both aware of the gravity of this situation, but he's not pushing me and, for that, I'm thankful.

"Your death certificate is in this envelope." Steve hands me said brown envelope, thick with the paperwork needed to make this all official.

"Thanks, Steve."

Here's the thing, the attack in the trailer was the final nail in my coffin. My plan needed to change. This meant that I had to die too. The alternative was getting arrested for murdering my brother and serving my sentence before getting the money I needed to help Mom. With Jake dead and me incarcerated, she still would have been cared for by the state until I got out, and it'd probably be a damn sight better than the care she was currently receiving.

This way, Mom still gets everything she needs, I can get the money together sooner, and I'm now free to do what needs to be done.

Spencer dating the mortuary technician has certainly helped. We were struggling with how we were going to manage two bodies in one ambulance with only one EMT, without it raising suspicions, then Steve came along. It's not the smartest idea of mine to trust him with all of this, but he seems pretty smitten with Spencer, and vice versa, and it was worth the risk.

With the red wig in place as my disguise, I sit in the wheelchair Spencer is standing behind as he waits to wheel me out of here like any other patient.

"Ready for this?" His words are whispered in my ear, and I check out my new ID that's also in the brown envelope.

"Not really." He chuckles at my response, ruffling my wig with affection.

"C'mon, Scarlett. Let's do this."

Now

Walking to the bus station after visiting Aleko gives me the time to think about the consequences of my actions—something I've been avoiding for weeks now. He wasn't supposed to be at the Rebels' trailer park when the police arrived, he was supposed to be away from all the shit I caused. Not right in the fucking middle of it all, holding explosives, no less.

I shouldn't have been shocked when I found out what he did, but I was, right alongside the guilt that is still eating me alive. Aleko fucked me into my official adulthood and I haven't been able to get him off my mind since. He's pushy, and obsessive, and a crazy ass motherfucker, but he loves harder than anyone I've ever known. It's scary and all-consuming, and when it was directed at me, I felt complete in a way that I don't deserve.

All I bring is trouble, and that's not what I want for him.

However, seeing him today has made it difficult to push aside the way he makes my heart beat, the way he ties my stomach in knots, the way his voice soothes every nerve in my body. It's difficult to remember why I kept him out of the loop on this, then I picture the way he was led into the small room by the officer, hoping I was from his lawyer's office.

I'm the reason he's there. Which is the complete opposite of what was supposed to happen.

After I'd removed all the things I wanted from my storage unit, taking them to the run-down cabin Spencer's gran left him, I sent the key and a detailed note to Celia Shipman. She seemed like a good deputy sheriff when I met her, so she was the ideal option. I'm not sure anything would have been done if I'd given the same information to the station in Stonebrook Falls.

My unit held all of the drugs I'd been told to deliver to local dealers, and I made sure to conveniently leave behind some personal items of each of the Rebels—except Cameron and Booker, because they're actually mostly good guys. They just got mixed up with the bad guys is all. The note I sent gave the names and addresses of the Rebels, as well as details of what illegal weapons and drugs they're likely to be carrying, just to make the arrests easier and quicker so they didn't have to wait for prints and shit to come back.

Aleko fucked the plan by being there with explosives and got himself arrested.

It's kind of sweet though, that he was ready to blow shit up for me. Well, sweet and heart wrenching all at the same time. If I'd have just stopped and thought about what I was doing, I'd have realized I had become one of those stupid bitches that keeps secrets when everything would be all better if I had just told the truth.

Although, that's not a guarantee. At least this way Aleko isn't actually in any real danger now. Their club lawyer will get his charges dropped. I have no doubt about that.

But now he knows I'm alive and he hates me. Maybe that's for the best.

I don't know what I expected when he first walked into that room, but it wasn't hatred. My stomach flipped when his blue eyes met mine, I struggled to stay seated and not run into his arms, and every fiber of my being was screaming at me to kiss him. It was dangerous and stupid of me to visit a county jail, but when Spencer told me about what happened with Goblin, I just couldn't stay away.

The bus pulls up alongside the road in front of me and the doors open for me to enter. I pay my fare and head toward an empty middle seat, leaning back to settle in for the hour-long ride. Should've peed before I left the jail, damnit.

The journey gives me more time alone with my thoughts, which is a dangerous thing right now. The last two months are a blur of guilt, regret, freedom, revenge, and I'm afraid I'm a lot more fucked up than I ever realized. These are the years that make a person who they are, and I'm scared that I actually like who I'm becoming.

If I could turn back time, I'd probably do it all the same because I'm stubborn like that. I know the outcome of this path; another path would be a gamble that I'm glad I don't have to take.

Eventually, the bus stops for me to get off and I thank the driver politely before watching it pull away. The driver and other passengers don't need to see me heading into the forest behind me. That'd definitely be cause for suspicion.

It's muggy out today and I find myself silently wishing for some heavy rain to clear the air a little. This suit I'm wearing isn't the most comfortable thing in the world either, and the shoes? Well, I love a pair of heels, but not in the undergrowth of a forest as I make my way to Spencer's inherited cabin by the mountain.

I kick them off, picking them up before continuing my thirty-minute walk. There is a dirt road that leads to the cabin, but I was going for the whole incognito thing today so as not to draw any suspicion from anywhere.

Now that I've revealed myself to Aleko, I thought I'd feel lighter. Like, one less secret to carry and all that. But no, the hate in his eyes only fuels my own anger at the person I'm choosing to hold responsible for every-fucking-thing.

Finally stepping into the old cabin, I throw my shoes into the basket by the front door and rip my wig off, ruffling my hair to ease the building tension-headache. I grab a bottle of water from the fridge, gulping it down on my way into the tiny basement beneath the cabin.

There, I find the source of all my problems. Battered, bloody, and broken.

Unwrapping the sucker I've had in my pocket all day—because it's the only thing that brings me joy lately and is as close to Aleko as I can get—I muse on what to do as I pop it into my mouth when practically dead eyes meet mine.

"Nice to see you awake, brother."