SERAPHINE
Leroi is an asshole.
I should have killed him, along with those men. Opened his shirt, slit his throat, and watched the blood spill down those perfect pecs and tight abs. Then I would wait, transfixed, as his chest fell still, and the red liquid darkened to brown.
The only reason I spared his life was because he’d proven he wasn’t like any of the others. He’d killed Dad and the twins, freed me from the basement, had my collar and chip removed, and hadn’t laid a finger on me the way others might.
I also need someone with resources to help me find Gabriel.
My biceps burn as I drag the heavy corpse backward through the trees. Every few steps, the pickaxe or shovel falls off its chest and I have to stop and pick them up. Leroi pauses, holding his chair and cooler and staring down at me like I’m delaying his nighttime picnic.
Annoying and an asshole.
By the time I reach the spot where the ground looks smooth enough, sweat pours down my face, my chest, and my back. I raise an aching arm, groaning from the effort, and wipe my forehead on a sleeve that’s already drenched with exertion.
Leroi takes his seat with a triumphant smirk and opens the insulated box. My throat tightens as he extracts a bottle of water that glistens with condensation, and I moan as he twists open its lid with a crack.
“Drink.” He points it at my mouth.
I hesitate.
This has to be a trick, or at least a trap. The twins used to make me earn my food and drink, despite risking my life and eliminating the targets they sent me out to kill.
Leroi’s brows pull together. “Don’t just stand there.” He tosses the bottle at my feet. “Drink. Grave digging is thirsty work.”
I snatch the bottle and gulp down half of its contents before setting it aside and picking up the shovel. The first shove into the ground doesn’t even break through the soil.
“Put a foot on the spade and use your body weight,” Leroi says, his voice lifting with amusement.
My jaw clenches, and the lining of my stomach burns with resentment. I don’t need his condescension. I need him to dig this grave. Leroi is twice my size. Three times, if you add all those muscles. He could get this job done in ten minutes. Instead, he’s cracking open a can of beer.
“Why don’t you help me?” I drive the shovel into the ground and lean on it with all my weight.
The earth gives way under the pressure, and I scoop aside the first pile of dirt.
“Did you say something, Seraphine?” he asks with a long swig.
I ignore his question and my screaming muscles, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me struggle, and continue digging. Leroi watches in silence as more sweat runs down my face and gets into my eyes. Every few minutes, I shoot him a glare while he sips his beer like a man of leisure.
It feels like I’ve been at this for hours and the grave is showing no signs of getting any deeper. Each shovelful of dirt feels heavier than the last, and my arms won’t stop shaking. I plunge it into the ground and hit what feels like a wall, the shock of it reverberating up my arms.
“Tired already, Seraphine?” he asks.
My jaw tightens. I was tired before we entered the car. Tired before I dragged that bastard’s dead body across the pristine apartment. Tired before he made me scrub the floors, wash down the bedroom’s gray walls, and unclothe the corpse.
“Nope,” I answer through gritted teeth. “Just hit something.”
Leroi sets down his can, saunters over, and stops by the wrapped-up corpse. He points a flashlight into the hole and then shines it on the pick ax resting at his feet.
“Looks like you hit a rock. Use the other tool.”
The indignation simmering in my gut erupts into a rage that burns through my exhaustion. I snatch the pickax and start to chip away at the stone, wishing it was his skull. Each strike at the hard surface wipes away his smirk until that handsome face is a mess of blood and broken bones.
Leroi backs away. I want to think it’s because he can read my mind, but he’s probably going back to his beer. What a dick.
I’m half dead by the time the ax finally hits something soft. My palms sting, my arms burn like molten lead, and I’m cross-eyed from fatigue. Tossing the ax aside, I reach for the shovel, but the trees surrounding the clearing spin. Dizziness overwhelms my senses, and my legs wobble. I collapse into strong arms, which catch me before I hit the dirt.
Leroi shoves a sandwich under my nose. “Eat.”
“Is it cock?” I snarl, wanting to get under his skin.
He flinches. “No, it’s turkey and cheese. Sorry to disappoint, but no human men were maimed in the production of this meal.”
I sink my teeth into it, relishing the taste of something that isn’t soil. Leroi watches me eat like I’m some kind of spectacle, but I’m too exhausted to care. Hell, I’m too exhausted to even chew. He wants me to break, or at least apologize for killing his friends, when he should be the one groveling for keeping such shitty company.
“Thanks,” I croak before swallowing.
“Take another bite,” he says.
My eyes droop, and my jaw goes slack. All thoughts of proving my point drain to nothingness as the edges of my vision turn black.
Leroi scoops me into his arms and chuckles. “Have you learned your lesson, Seraphine?”
No.
I’d murder a room full of men again in a heartbeat.
But next time, I’d save him for last. Maybe even turn one of his body parts into a trophy. Or a snack.
Whatever he says next is lost on me as I drift into unconsciousness.
I wake to find myself wrapped in a soft, fuzzy blanket in the backseat. There’s a rolled-up jacket beneath my head that smells of him. Of Leroi. He must have picked me up and finished digging the grave. Warmth seeps into my heart. Maybe he isn’t so bad.
Leroi drives in silence, save for the rumbling of tires on the road. Sunlight peeps out from behind the tall buildings, coloring the sky a delicious shade of orange and the ends of his hair mahogany.
“Where are we going?” I mumble.
“Awake now, princess?” he asks with a tiny smirk.
My lips tighten. Does he actually think I fainted on purpose just to avoid digging the rest of that pervert’s grave? My mind conjures up a hundred rebuttals, but I can’t even muster up the courage to utter a single one.
I don’t know this man. Leroi is a mass of contradictions. He’s kind, annoying, and not a creep, but he’s also a killer more dangerous than either of the twins. They only had the balls to come at me while I was drugged or incapacitated by the collar. Leroi looks like the kind of man who doesn’t need tools to inflict pain or get me under his control.
“You try digging a grave after five years in a basement,” I mutter.
The car slows. “Did you say five years?”
“Yes.” I sit up and clutch the blanket.
“Shit.” He exhales. “God, Seraphine, I’m sorry—”
“I don’t want your pity,” I whisper.
With a nod, he pulls into a gas station. My heart flips and I draw in a sharp breath. Is he going to leave me at the side of the road, now that he knows the extent of my damage?
“Where are you going?”
“Filling the tank,” he says without looking into my eyes. “Want me to get you anything?”
“No,” I rasp. “Thank you.”
“Be back in a minute.”
Leroi steps out and closes the door without giving me a backward glance. All traces of the man who delivered snide remarks are gone, replaced by someone carrying a burden they want to offload.
I gulp, my throat knotting, every ounce of me wishing I hadn’t blurted the truth. I can only imagine he’s thinking I’m a liability with a compulsion to kill men. That’s not entirely true. I didn’t harm any of the clean-up crew, even if they spoke loudly and their voices grated on my nerves. I haven’t been tempted to harm Leroi or his red-haired side-kick. Much.
In the side mirror, I watch him fill the tank before walking into the gas station and disappearing through the door. I open the door, slip into the front passenger seat, and buckle up. Then I close my eyes and try to calm my racing thoughts.
Maybe I’m overthinking the situation. Leroi could just be overwhelmed with what I said and feeling guilty for making me clean up and dig that grave. After all, he had a crew of men handle the other corpses. The only reason he wanted me to do the clean-up was to be petty.
Two sharp knocks sound on the window, shaking me from thoughts, and my gaze snaps to the side. A man in a baseball cap motions at me to wind it down. When I don’t respond, he points at the other side of the car, like he wants to come in.
I press the button, and the window whirs down, letting in the scent of stale cigarette smoke and gasoline.
The man sticks his head through the gap, his eyes flickering to my meager chest. “Hey baby,” he says, his breath reeking of booze. “Want a ride? You look like you could use a good time.”
He reminds me of another old man who used to leer at me, but then I was tied up or threatened with a shock from the chip embedded in my neck. My nostrils flare. Nobody gets to look at me like I’m a piece of meat.
Before I can stop myself, I’ve pushed the button to raise the window and trapped his head in the car. Using one of the stolen steak knives, I stab him up to the hilt in one of his beady eyes.
I pull back the knife at his loud roar, cutting through his skin and releasing a spray of blood. It soaks the front of my shirt and face. His screams and the blood coating me breaks me from my stupor, and I open the window and set him free.
The man falls backward, trips over his feet, and knocks his head on the pump. As he lies unmoving on the ground, I glance toward the gas station’s door, hoping Leroi didn’t witness my outburst.
Thankfully, he’s not in sight.
I hunch forward in my seat and hope to god we can get out of here without him noticing anything wrong.
