Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO

LYLA

W hile Ed snivels, I don't believe him. The alcohol scenting his breath reveals who he truly is. Even while his children were in his home, vying for attention after their supposedly innocent father got released from nearly a year in jail, he drowned himself in libations instead of paying them any mind.

That is the answer to my questions.

Though I no longer need them.

I only love to toy with them and make them think they will live.

I can't help it. The desperation in them makes me giddy. It makes me wet.

The woman I was years ago is long gone. She's buried under at least a ton of trauma and old baggage I don't peek at. Not when my newfound bloodlust fills a void in me.

I never thought I could be this woman. Now, I'm unhinged and unstable. However, I know I'll always have my tether to reality in Neo.

His hand is on my shoulder, causing me to shiver as I look down at where I've tied Ed Johnson to his dining room table.

He's drawn across it and at my mercy. It's quickly becoming my MO.

"What do you think, stupid girl?"

"I think he's going to die," I say loud enough to pop Ed's illusion of hope like a bubble hitting a solid object.

He screams, and I march forward, stuffing a wad of paper towels into his mouth.

I turn to Neo as I un-sheath my knife, and he grins. "I fucking love the way your eyes light during a kill."

I lick my lips, trying not to get caught in an obsession with him when I'm supposed to be working.

"Stay focused," I snap, and he licks his lips.

My eyes drag down his body, landing on his hard cock. My mouth waters.

"I'm trying, but you know I can't focus when I'm tired," he groans.

Neo stayed awake while I napped to ensure we were secure in front of Ed's house.

I stride closer, stopping before him and looking at his beautiful, rugged face. "I know, baby. When I'm done with Ed, I'll find you somewhere to sleep, alright? This shouldn't take long. I don't feel like dragging it out tonight."

I run the tip of my blade over his hardness, twisting a bit at the tip of him through his jeans.

He hisses, panting as his eyes grow heady. "Fuck, stupid girl. Hurry."

His needy energy leaks into me, and I turn on Ed Johnson and stalk closer.

Ed continues his screaming as I climb on the table and straddle his stomach .

A disgruntled snarl comes from Neo, and I grin.

"Hear that, Ed? I don't think he's too keen on me touching you."

Tears wash out the man's eyes, trickling down into his ears.

"Don't worry. He won't hurt you." I lean down, whispering into his ear, "It's me you should worry about, Ed. See, I have a knack for sensing the truth of things. And I know you're fucking lying."

He sobs as I sit back straight over his stomach, placing my blade over his throat.

I watch the last beats of his heart with my deranged eyes as I press firmly, dragging it from ear to ear.

"That's why they're calling you the Ripper, love," Neo says, leaning over Ed's head.

Ed gurgles, thrashing against his restraints as I look down and watch the life drain from his putrid eyes.

"They know nothing," I say, twisting my blade over Ed's cheek.

"I didn't say they were smart; I only said that's why they're giving you a name."

My eyes flick up to Neo's, and I catch the Butcher looking back at me.

"Stupid. Fucking. Girl. You're more than I ever thought you'd be."

I lick my lips and realize I'm covered in arterial spray.

I smile, knowing Ed's blood coats my teeth.

"Am I?"

He growls like a feral animal. "Come here."

He straightens, still standing near the head of the table.

I crawl over Ed's body, my knees straddling his head as I listen to the Butcher's command.

His hand slides down the front of my pants, and I sit back a bit to give him space to work. My ass smashes into Ed's face as I arch.

"You're so fucking perfect that it makes me want to kill you myself."

"And wouldn't that be fitting?" I breathe. "The Butcher ending his creation."

He leans over as his fingers slide inside me. "I did create you, didn't I?"

I moan incoherently as the adrenaline left in my system from killing entwines with the heat he's creating with his fingers.

"You did," I breathe, barely able to get it out as he grinds the heel of his palm into my clit, working me higher.

His kiss seers my lips as I part for him, flicking my tongue against his as we fight for dominance with our mouths.

"Do you regret it?" I ask him breathlessly, body undulating on his hand as he brings me to climax just as quickly as he does any other time.

He scoffs in disgust. "Never."

"Neo," I beg, fisting his dark hair in my hand as I feel orgasm tangling low in my belly.

"More," he grinds out, tone pleading.

I scream through the climax, feeling revitalized afterward.

Centered.

He helps me off the table and wipes my blade clean on his pants, handing it back to me as he unbinds Ed and packs up our restraints.

"Any last things you want to do before we leave?" Neo asks, and I return to reality as I'd been thinking of my life had he not created me .

Would I still be in Crows Hollow, a broken and tired nurse? Would I be working overtime tonight and sipping an energy drink instead of orgasming over the dead body of a child molester?

One can never tell.

"Lyla?" Neo snaps his fingers. "Anything else we need to do?"

I nod, stepping toward the curtains and closing them so that any passerby can't find Ed lying on the dining room table in the front window.

He has a meeting with a reporter for Channel 4 tomorrow. An entire film crew will find him spread out and gutted, the word guilty etched into his chest—thanks to Neo and his branding skills.

"That's all," I say, removing my gloves and tossing them in my bag for disposal.

"Then let's find somewhere to sleep, stupid love. I'm exhausted."

We sneak out the back and over two streets to where we parked, the thrill of killing gone from our systems as bone-deep exhaustion seeps through us in its place.

Motel Five was the only thing with vacancy anywhere close to Ed's house, and Neo secured us a room with cash as I waited outside in the car, covered in blood.

Once we were inside, we cleaned up and crashed.

Hard.

The nightstand clock says it's eleven a.m. when I roll out of bed and head to the bathroom to pee .

After I completed my morning routine, I used the coffee machine from our luggage to make two cups of coffee.

Like always, Neo takes his coffee into his morning shower, and I turn the television on to see the breaking news.

However, this morning, my thrill is overshadowed by a national breaking story. There's no mention of Ed Johnson and the American Ripper slitting his throat in the night.

No.

The headlines on every channel are something I never expected to see.

Anne Hatt, a woman who was imprisoned around five years ago for the heinous crime of poisoning her children over the length of ten or more years, is being set free.

I remember this story from the news. It had the world gripped when they found her guilty. Everyone couldn't understand how she could do the things she did to her children.

Her blonde hair whips in the wind as she ducks her head to avoid reporters on her way out of the prison in gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt.

"Astounding," the reporter says, and I turn the television up.

"If you're just tuning in, let's get you up to speed." A man standing in front of the prison holds an umbrella in one hand and a microphone in the other. "In a sick turn of events, the court overturned the guilty verdict of Anne Hatt. The once-convicted mother of four was found guilty, as you'll remember, nearly six years ago for the maltreatment of her children. Two of those children have since come forward, saying they were coerced by law enforcement. The courts overturned the initial ruling because of these new accusations. However, this case could go back to court."

Fuck. To drag those children through that hell again, when they're grown and have families now, would be pure hell.

The feed breaks up, and the studio reporter returns to the screen. "Sorry, I think we've lost David. Our team is going to see if we can get him back on the line," she says, her thick London accent coming through the television speakers louder than David's.

I turn it down a bit, still riveted.

"David is outside of HMP Low Newton, giving us coveted footage of Anne Hatt, who has been released and loaded into a caravan to head for London, where she has a home with her husband, Carl Hatt. We're going to go to a commercial while we try to get David back on the line, and we'll be right back," the anchor says, and I release a breath.

I turn to get my mug of coffee off the nightstand and eye Neo, who is still staring at the television, where an ad for deodorant now plays on the screen.

"Neo?"

He doesn't rouse from whatever thoughts he's floating in. For a moment, I realize I'm not looking at the Neo I know. I'm looking at the Neo I fell for.

His eyes are feral and darkening around their edges as he stands naked in the bathroom's fissure. His muscles are on full display, and as his mind works over whatever tedious task it's mulling, every sinew is dense and flexing.

I lick my lips as the Butcher crawls to the forefront of Neo's psyche.

"Neo!" I shout again, and he startles, wild eyes snapping toward me. "Are you alright? "

"I—No, I'm not." He turns and slams the bathroom door shut, and I'm left on the edge of the bed as David returns to the screen and begins speaking again.

I'm torn between watching the story unfold and going to Neo. I know he's going to need a moment, however. He always does when he gets like this.

Though I've never witnessed him look so demented before.

"So, do we think the courts will re-try Mrs. Hatt's case?" the anchor in London asks David, who's now standing in pounding rain and battling to keep his umbrella above him.

I drown him out as the words "Child Abuser Walks Free" scrawl across the bottom of the screen, and my brain hones in on them.

Everything I know about Neo comes rushing back into my deranged brain.

How his mother had abused him, and it's how his motivation for killing built.

Anne Hatt poisoned her children for years before one of them confided in a counselor, unraveling the abuse and getting the authorities involved.

It took them two years to get to trial, all while the children sat in limbo. The MPS couldn't figure out if Carl had any involvement or knew about the abuse of his three children, so the children were placed under a care order and placed in London's version of the foster system for their safety.

I know this triggered Neo.

What I don't know is how hard it's going to be to get him back.

I slide off the bed and shut off the television .

Before I turn the knob, I close my eyes and steel my nerves.

Pushing inside, I find him standing deathly still at the edge of the fifties-style pink tub, a sick grin on his face.

"Neo?"

"Stupid girl?"