Battle of the Killers

95 | You Gotta Let Me Kill

"Well, I'm sorry if you made that complicated now," Rucker said, glowering at me. "I can kill like that Betinia." He snapped his fingers. "I remember my first kill, and I didn't kill just for sport — it was for survival, but once I did it, I fucking loved it. And—"

"What does any of that have to do with me?"

"I'm saying that my first kill was out of necessity," Rucker said, staring at me. "I didn't start killing for fun until later. You've never killed before, what if you freeze up and Gmie gets the drop on you?"

"Trust me, I can handle virgin Mary." 

"Or what if you did kill before and since you blocked it out, that memory comes back and makes you freeze up?" He closed his eyes. "Or what if you do it, and it fucks you up even more? Everyone acts big and bad until they actually kill, and then it changes them."

"Well, I'm not them."

"I've planned hundreds of gang initiations," Rucker said. "I've had pledges kill innocent people before, and some of them couldn't handle it and offed themselves because they couldn't deal with what they've done."

"Well, I'm not those people." I sighed. "You're seriously starting to sound like everyone else back there. I expected better. You were supposed to be on my side."

"I'm always on your side," he said, cheeks inflating, eyes wild. "But you can't blame me for being a bit weirded out when we're about to go kill two bitches and you've never killed one before."

"I gotta start somewhere."

"I never signed up to be your first," he said in a rough tone. "I went into this plan thinking you've been murdering people for years."

"I didn't think it mattered," I snapped.

"If you were some random one-night stand then it wouldn't."

"You really gotta stop using these sex analogies."

He blew out a breath. "They're the only ones I can think of at the moment."

"So, you're basically saying because I'm me, you feel weird?" I put my hands on my hips. "So if this were Yaz or Khan, and it was their first time, you wouldn't care?"

"No, I would give zero shits."

"That's so fucking unfair."

"It is, but I didn't make an oath with them. I didn't promise to protect them," he said, honestly. "You and I have gotten really close these last few weeks. I haven't had this much fun in years." He glanced down at the floor. "When I wasn't talking to you and you almost died, it made me realize how important you are to me. Without even thinking, I let you in, and I don't fucking do that." His hands flew through his hair. "I think it's because you remind me of my baby sister."

"The one who passed away?" I asked, softly, knowing it was a sensitive subject for him.

"Yeah," he said looking away and laughing. "She was so stubborn and always overthinking the littlest thing. But so fucking smart, anything you gave her she'd figure it out. Just like you." His voice cracked a bit, and my chest hurt. "And she'd always find a way to surprise me, and she always took my side, always trying to save me."

Yet, he couldn't save her. I moved toward him, touching his arm. "You don't have to save me, Rucker. I want to do this."

"It's not that," he said, shaking his head. "When I thought you were a killer like me, I was fucking ecstatic. I had someone who could watch my back and kill with me. But when I found out you haven't killed anything or you don't remember, it makes me want to protect you instead — shield you from this shit."