Outside, Cristian called a couple of his men to come clean up my mess. They were to burn the bodies or dump them in the deepest depths of the ocean or throw them in the landfill, like the garbage they were. I didn’t know what they were going to do with four dead people, but I wasn’t going to ask. Cristian had done this hundreds of times before me. He knew what to do.
I walked into my old bedroom and closed the door behind me, the room eerily quiet and still neat, like I had left it years ago. Except the bedsheets, which were wrinkly in a few different spots. Walking over to the bed, I drew my fingers across the creases to smooth them out, only to see a picture of a young Roxie on the sheets and feel something crusty on the bedsheets.
Rage and disgust rushing through me, I grabbed the she
