127

FREDRICK

I had known the woman lying facedown on my bed was dead before I had even touched her.

“Fucking hell,” I cursed, swearing loudly before I slammed my hand into the popsicle-shaped lampshade idling at the corner, sending it careening into the rear wall with a loud crash.

Not again, I couldn't do this now, not when that fucking detective had his nose buried in our soup like a damn hound dog.

“Hey, lady! Wake up!” I hissed, flipping the porcelain-faced woman over with some effort and slapping her cheeks until my palm stung from the effort.

It would be a hassle to move her to the underground lot. Goddamn it, It wasn't like I had Mary to do the grunt work for me anymore.

“Poor girl,” I tutted, eyeing the woman’s frail neck that was still red with the bite from my teeth. Hickeys. The type I had imagined giving my brother’s wife.

I was aware of how much of the line I had scattered under my feet, but it wasn't like I could stop myself.

You can't help who you love! If only I had taken