Primal Pursuit

“Help him? Father, the only thing I’ll be helping him with is paving his way to hell much faster.”

He mutters something that sounds like Parish, my real last name. Then again, we’re in a church, so who knows? “How is it that you didn’t die that night? As you mentioned, you were there.”

“I hid in the closet until he was gone, then grabbed my school bag and snuck out to hide in the playground.”

“Your school bag?”

I nod even though he can’t see me. “Afterward, I walked around, pretending I was on my way home from my friend’s house.”

“To be seen?”

“Yeah. I went home, called the police and…I told them Ifound them like that. Shot dead. I never told anyone I was there when it happened.”

“Penelope Jane Parish.” He says my name so low I almost miss it. “I read that, years ago. Your father was an accountant.”

An ache spreads in my chest, so I rub my palms together—harder this time.

The priest clears his throat. “Do you think him being with you is his way to repent?”

“No.” The venom stings the air. “He has no idea who I am. I spent years trying to track him down and found him.”

“Why did you want to find him?”

I lean my head against the screen between me and the priest, licking my lips before I say, “To kill him.”

There’s a beat of silence. And another before he finally says, “Murder, my child, is a sin.”

I stand, wiping my palms down my shirt. “I know.”

I push out of the confessional and run out of the church. I don’t look back, not even when I hear the priest calling after me. The anger and sorrow in my chest are more than enough to keep me going. I was wrong to think talking about the cross I’ve borne for so long might give some slight reprieve from the heaviness in my soul. It only aggravated it, and now it’s clawing at my bones.

Once I’m back at my apartment, I go into a cleaning frenzy, scrubbing everywhere and everything before I shower again, scouring myself raw like I’m trying to wash Davian out of my fucking life, out of existence. But all I’m doing is making it worse.

It’s still too early to go to work, and I’m too bubblingwith the wrong kind of energy, so I pull on my running clothes and shoes and go for an afternoon run.

I don’t know how long I run, but I’m covered in sweat when I get home. By the time I’m done showering again, I’m rushing to get done in time for my early bird shift.

When I slip out the door, my phone vibrates in my pocket, and I drop the keys as I pull it out. “Shit,” I mutter, crouching down to pick up the keys as I glance at my phone’s screen.

My breath hitches, and my heart stops momentarily, my legs suddenly boneless as I read the text.

Where does the white rabbit lead?

Davian.

He figured out my number.

Chapter

Eight

DAVIAN

I honestly don’t expectan answer straightaway.

She’s probably licking wounds, wobbling on unsure feet. Angry, needy, full of lust she doesn’t know what to do with.

That shit was all in her eyes as she spat her brand of wildfire at me in the warehouse loft.