Page 95 of Unbalanced

“Don’t worry, it will all be over soon.”

She is truly a beautiful woman. Elegant in that old-money sophisticated way. She’s smart and has the kind of family that opens doors for her. At one point I would’ve done anything to trade places with Camille.

But the girl who begged for scraps grew up.

Camille sealed her fate the day she thought she was more than the occasional fuck in Alden’s life. Today is nothing more than death finally knocking on her door.

Her breathing stutters as she convulses on the floor, and then she’s still.

“Please…help…me,” Malcolm says as the ballerina slows.

I hold up the jewelry box so he can see it.

“Do you know why I use this?”

He doesn’t answer, not that I expect him to at this point. I stand and walk around the mess until I’m staring down at him.

“That was a rhetorical question. I know you don’t know. This was my mother’s. She didn’t love me. Sold me to be brutally beaten and raped by someone you knew well.” His eyes widen a little. “But she loved this stupid thing. No matter where she went, she took it with her.”

I stare directly into Malcolm’s terrified eyes as tears leak out and drip down onto the floor.

“It only made sense that when I slit her throat, I took with me the only thing she ever loved. She didn’t get to keep it in death, and now, the little dancer twirls for each life I take. It dances to remind me where I came from and why I do this.”

“P…please,” he wheezes.

“Hush now…at least you got to die having sex one last time. That’s more than most people get.”

The same strangled sound leaves his throat, and he shakes before going limp as the ballerina completes her last turn.

Squatting down, I pluck the ruby earring from Camille’s ear. Then I pull the Vance family ring, similar to Alden’s, off his finger, and drop them in with all the other items I’ve collected.

I put the music box away and take out the little container that holds two black dahlia flowers. Slipping one in each mouth, I sigh as contentment washes over me.

Time to go.

Before leaving, I look back at my work. Perfect. I slip out of the condo and into the stairwell across the hall. Down to the bottom floor I go, quiet as a mouse. I peel off the mask and tuck it back into my bag, then I put on my black jacket, boots, and motorcycle helmet. I left the items under the stairs earlier. Only then, fully covered and hair tucked in, do I push open the maintenance access door and step out into the night, blending with the darkness.

My motorcycle sits around the corner where I left it. It’s my little secret. I climb on, and it roars to life. Time to clean up, so I head straight to my storage unit outside of town.

Alden will love his gift.

I’m sure of it.

CHAPTER THIRTY

ALDEN

Walking back into my condo, I’m in no better shape than when I left. Simon’s screams ring in my ears. The scent of his blood is still in my nose. And yet…Emily’s face floats back into my mind again and again.

Nothing I do helps.

Stomping over to my bar, I grab the scotch right in front, and pour myself two fingers. Tonight, I don’t sip it or savor the flavor. I chug the burning liquid down. Three fucking days and not a single word from her.

Does she really think she can walk away from me? Whipping around, I throw the crystal glass, and it shatters against the decorative rock wall around the fireplace.

“Fuck.”

My chest heaves, body shaking as I war with myself. I can feel the scales tipping. My balance is all off. I can do what I do because I’m detached. No one controls me, no one gets in my way, no one interferes with the order of things, and above all else, no one can cause me pain.