Page 102 of Unholy Masks

TRISH

Pretending to be weak, to be vulnerable, stirred a familiar hunger in me to kill again.

My control was slowly slipping, and I despised every second of it. It took a lot of effort to keep the truth buried, to stop the real me from seeping through the carefully constructed façade. Every forced tremor, every lowered glance, every ounce of manufactured helplessness scraped against my nerves like an itch. I wanted to scratch so bad.

I could feel the mask slipping.

Not yet.

Enzo shouldn’t be looking at me with those soft, worried eyes. But the idiot had already fallen hard. Too hard. It was almost pathetic.

Almost.

Yara had already begun following the trail I’d left behind, picking through the breadcrumbs and drawing closer to the secret that bound us together. With every piece she uncovered, the distance between us narrowed.

The thrill was intoxicating. My blood hummed with it, my pulse quickening at the thought of her getting close.

My body came alive at the thought of finally getting her alone. Just Yara… without Ryden, without Irene.

“Trish? Hey, are you okay?” Enzo asked, giving me a worried look. “What’s wrong? Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

His voice dragged me back to the present. Fuck. I had totally forgotten him.

“I’m fine,” I said, forcing a sweet smile. “Don’t look so worried, Enzo. I survived.”

I pushed myself off the bed with a staged groan.

“You shouldn’t be alone, Trish. You should have stayed at the hospital.”

“I’m fine. Just a leg cramp. I hate hospitals. The smell, the noise, all of it.”

The cops had wanted to tuck me into a safe house, wrap me in their precious bubble wrap. I told them to shove it--in pretty, polite words, of course. I didn’t need their eyes on me every second. They still forced a watch on my wrist. Press for help, they said. Like I needed help.

I had been saving myself for so long.

“If not the hospital…” Enzo hesitated, chewing on whatever heroic speech he’d practiced in his head. “Do you want to come with me? To my place? I mean Irene’s there as well. You could be more comfortable—”

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience,” I whispered. A shy smile. A little tremble. Just the right amount of damsel in distress. I didn’t know if it was because he was entirely too good or too stupid. “I’ve lived alone most of my life. I can manage—”

“I don’t want you to,” he cut in, desperate. “It’s not an inconvenience, Trish. Really. It’s not.”

I sighed the way he wanted me to. A soft surrender. A flutter of uncertainty.

Just a weak little woman… waiting to be saved.

Some men loved to be the savior. Loved to cradle broken women they could stitch back together with their big, earnest hands.

Fuck.

Enzo was no different.

“Irene’s been bored staying there all the time,” he added. “You’ll help her too.”

The way he handed me everything I’d ever wanted on a silver platter… God. Enzo was like a puppy trying to please his owner. Loyal. Trusting. Completely blind.

“I-if it’s not such a trouble…” I whispered.

He lit up.