“Mila, we need to go.”
Hunter pulls on my arm, but I resist. “We can’t. This is a crime scene, and if we leave, Roman is the first person they’ll look for.”
Roman shakes his head and lets out a strangled cry. I reach for him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He just killed his father, and although he’d been defending me, I know that’s something he will carry with him for the rest of his life. Even though his father was an asshole, Roman never should have been forced to harm, much less kill, his own flesh and blood.
“I have a record, fighting…they won’t believe me.” Roman runs his hands down his face, leaving a smear of blood. I think it’s mine, but I don’t tell him.
“It was self-defense. We were both here. They will know it was,” Hunter reassures him as he pulls out his phone.
Roman grabs it before Hunter can dial any numbers. “No, no. I have to run. I have to leave. They’ll lock me up. Everything bad always happens to me.” Roman stumbles. His fever has kicked in, and the adrenaline has run out, and he’s collapsing in front of me.
My heart breaks.
Everything bad always happens to me.
I look to Damon, who has stopped breathing. It’s strange, this out-of-body feeling I get when I see him lying motionless.
“Don’t run. Go to Hunter’s house. I’ll stay here and call the cops. I’ll say I stabbed him, that it was self-defense.” I point to my arm, then I touch the back of my head where I hit it, and my cheek. I hiss at the pain. It hurts to touch.
“I can’t leave you here alone, Mila,” Hunter protests. “You can’t take the fall; you didn’t do this. It was self-defense. I’ll say I did it.”
“No, Roman’s right. Everything bad always happens to him. But starting today, no more. I will say I stabbed Damon. We just need a plan.”
I glance around the room—it’s a mess. Then I look Hunter over; he’s not bleeding. Roman, I do a more thorough inspection of. His hands…does he have any knife wounds? Is he bleeding?
No, thankfully. I shake my head, and the pain hits me. “Fuck,” I grip my head, and Hunter moves to hold me, but I push him away.
“No, don’t touch me. Just in case. I need you to take Roman to your house. You need to shower and burn the clothes. Or at least bury them until we can burn them. Where the treehouse was meant to be—take them there. The cops will come question you. So, be the best actors you have ever been.”
I look around again, and Hunter nods as he helps Roman up.
“You have to stick to your story. The closest to the truth is always best. I came here because Roman called me. You came because…” I wait for Hunter to answer me.
“Sadie and Cadence told me you got a call from Roman and came here. I tried to call you, but you didn’t pick up, so I grew worried.”
I nod. “That’s what happened. But…my phone was on silent. I didn’t hear it ring in my bag when I got here. You came and took Roman in your car. I was leaving just after you and said I would meet you after I went home and changed out of my dress.”
“And then what happened? How do you explain why Damon’s dead?” Hunter asks, confused.
“You don’t know. Why would you? You’re taking Roman home to help him. His dad beat him, and he’s sick. You’re taking care of him at your house.”
I watch as he nods slowly, then he looks me in the eye. It clicks. He gets what I’m saying. Hunter doesn’t need to know more. If he says anything more, things he shouldn’t know, then we will get caught. The rest is up to me.
I count in my head to a hundred and then search the floor where I’d dropped my keys. My head feels like a million bees are buzzing in there and stinging me. I find them and scramble up, not looking over at the body and the pool of blood under it.
I open the trailer door, trying to make sure nothing I do will come back to bite me in the ass if there’s an investigation. As I open my car door, I look around, but I don’t spot anyone. If someone heard what happened, they didn’t even bother to find out what was going on. I reach into the car and grab my bag before closing and locking it.
Each step I take toward the trailer door, I shake a little more. I don’t want to go back in there with him. I don’t want to be in there with his body. But I also don’t want to be out here with whatever lurks in the dark. I close the trailer door behind me and sag against it.
I count slowly to a hundred again and pull my phone out of my bag. There are a ton of missed calls from Hunter, one from Cadence, and two from Sadie. I ignore them as I dial 9-1-1. My thumb hovers over the call button as I panic again.
Have I done everything right? My phone would be tracked here too. Same as Hunter’s. That’s why he had to go with Roman. I was here longer.
I look over at the knife covered in blood.
“Fingerprints,” I whisper out loud.
The knife doesn’t have my fingerprints. It has Roman’s and Damon’s. Fuck. I’m going to have to touch the knife. I’m going to need to cut myself with the knife. So many criminals got caught because they cut their hand when they stabbed someone. Roman didn’t, luckily. That’s why I checked. But I need this to be believable.
I crawl over to where it lays, my hand shaking as I pick it up with two fingers. I can’t wipe off Damon’s fingerprints. Mine can’t land on top of his either, or they will know I’m lying.
Fuck, fuck. I can’t do this. My hands shake so much, I can barely hold the knife as I move it to where I would hold it. I bite the inside of my cheek as I slice my finger. I drop the knife and hold my hand to my chest while I scan the room one last time. The adrenaline has run out as I reach for my phone.
I unlock it, the numbers still glowing up at me, and I press the green call button.
“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”
