Page 187 of Sincerely, Butterfly

“So, what do we do now?” Sylas asks, leaning between the two seats, looking from me to Jasper.

Jasper looks at me, and we stare at one another for a moment.

“We clean up our girl’s mess,” he sighs heavily. “And try to process the fact that our lives are about to change big time.”

“Yeah, they are,” Sylas chuckles. “Best fucking Mardi Gras ever!”

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

NOLA

It’s been a week.A whole week since I poured my heart and soul out to the three men who own me.

And even after spending the night together, sharing the most intimate moments with them that left me with bruises and scars I cherish, they’ve ghosted me.

Straight up fucking ghosted me. No call, no texts, nothing.

Skittles hasn’t been able to find them., Callie hasn’t seen them come home, and they haven’t been at school.

I’m honestly going out of my mind.Did I mess this up? Did I read the situation wrong?

Did they ever really want me, or did they just like the idea of having me? And now that it’s become a reality, are they backtracking?

Dad told me that the girls I killed during Mardi Gras made the news, and now everyone thinks there are two murderers running around New Orleans because there weren’t any calling cards left by the Butterfly Killer. The only thing similar is the age of the women and a slit throat.

So now the NOPD thinks there's a copycat killer as well.

I fucked up. I know I did.

There are so many things I wish I could have changed about the way I went about doing this.

For one, I wish I had never created the Butterfly Killer persona. As much fun and thrilling as it was, I let my excitement of following in my father’s footsteps overpower the real reason I was doing this in the first place.

Sure, I enjoy killing. Ten out of ten, would recommend. But I should have just disposed of the bodies like I did with Scarlett. Burned them, never to be seen again, and leave the world wondering where they went and if they would ever come back.

Maybe the mass amount of missing girls would have made thenews, but it wouldn’t have gotten as much attention as the chaos I left in my wake.

I’m going to be brutally honest, I’m kind of ashamed of myself.

I know how to get away with murder. I know how to dispose of bodies and never get caught. I know all about human anatomy and forensic DNA.

Yet, I chose to let the thrill of the kill take over logic, and I know for a fact that if it wasn’t for my dad being on my side, working with his connections to make sure none of this came back to me, I’d have been caught a long time ago.

While I was careful with the photos I left behind, making sure that you can’t see anything but our faces up close, I’m sure I left DNA behind, or that I was caught on some kind of CCTV footage.

The way the world is now, if I were just some regular girl with no links to the people who run this town, I’d have been caught.

In a way, I became the kind of person I hated. Reliant on Daddy, on my connections, and the power my last name held.

It might not have been for money or to get the job of my dreams, but it was used in my favor to literally get away with murder.

I’m eighteen, and I’ve killed over fifteen people in the span of seven months.

Not many people can say they've accomplished that.

But what's the point of it all if I end up losing the men I love?