Page 109 of Twisted Bites
Lane glanced up immediately. “Yeah?”
“If you’re bored,” he said evenly, “ you can end it. You’ve done enough.”
I briefly wondered what he’d done while I was out in search for cleaning supplies. If Ro said it was enough, it was enough. But still, I was curious.
Jackson’s breath hitched, a wet, panicked sound, his eyes darting wildly between Ronan and Lane. “No, n-no, no, please—please don’t—”
“Yeah,” Lane said after a second. “I think I’m done.”
Jackson started sobbing harder, words tumbling over each other, desperate and incoherent. Apologies, denials, promises—none of it mattered.
Lane didn’t even look at him anymore.
He rose smoothly to his feet, wiping his hand absently on his pants before stepping behind Jackson. For a moment, he just stood there, looking down at him like he was deciding how to finish a game he’d already lost interest in.
I found myself watching again, rag clenched in my hand, bleach stinging my nose as the last faint trace of blood disappeared from the floor.
“Wait—wait, please—” Jackson choked.
Lane crouched behind him, then shoved the knife into Jackson’s throat, all the way to the hilt, before pulling it back out.
Jackson gurgled for a moment, choking on his own blood, but quickly went still.
Lane stayed there for a second longer, like he was making sure every drop of life had been emptied from the shell at his feet, then stood up, brushing his hands together. “Okay,” he said brightly, like he’d just finished a chore. “All done. I am in dire need of a bubble bath.”
Ro pushed up from the wall, eyes sweeping over the room one last time. “Good,” he said simply.
I swallowed, forcing myself to move again, to finish wiping down the last edges of the doorway. “Floor’s clean,” I said.
Ro nodded, looking tired. “Then we’re leaving. Come on.”
Lane stepped over Jackson’s body without a second glance, moving to Ro’s side like nothing had happened. “You sure you’regood?” he asked, eyeing the blood soaking through the towel again.
“I said I am,” Ro replied, but there was a faint edge of impatience now. “We’ll deal with it in the car.”
I tossed the used rags into a plastic bag I’d grabbed from the kitchen and tied it off tightly. The smell of bleach clung to everything, but at least there was no visible trace left behind.
Ro headed for the door first, stepping over the brother’s corpse like it was nothing more than an obstacle. Lane followed close behind him.
The night air hit like a shock when we stepped outside—cool, clean, untouched by what we’d just done, and most importantly, bleach-free.
Ro didn’t slow as he led us toward the car. “Keys,” he said.
“Got them,” I answered, pulling them from my pocket and unlocking the doors.
Lane slid into the backseat, already watching Ro with that same lingering concern. I got into the driver’s seat, starting the engine as Ro climbed in beside me.
Ro leaned back, closing his eyes briefly. “Good work,” he said.
Lane let out a small breath, some of the tension finally leaving his shoulders. “Yeah,” he murmured.
I pulled the car into motion, the house disappearing behind us like it had never mattered at all.
And just like that, our first official job was over.
“Best bonding experience ever,” Lane declared.
