We race up the stairs.
The bedroom door flies open.
And there’s Eli.
Screaming. Crying.
His head snaps up at the sound.
“Angel,” he chokes.
He stumbles from the bed and rushes toward me. I take a step back—but then he drops to his knees at my feet, his hands gripping my hips.
He stares up at me, eyes wild and broken.
“I think,” he whispers, voice splintering, “I did something bad.”
47
Let Me Help You
Eli's Search History: How to know if you are a murderer if you have no memory of the event
Emily
Eli’sfingersdigintomy thighs as he sobs, his forehead pressed to my stomach.
My heart fractures.
I stroke his hair, uncertain on what I’m supposed to do now.
“Sooo… are we killing him or not?”
I whip my head toward Nate, mouth falling open in shock.
Carina elbows him hard.
“Why would you even suggest that?” I gasp, my fingers tightening in the hair at Eli’s nape.
Nate smiles without teeth, eyes wide—a picture of feigned innocence. “Who said that?” He looks around theatrically.
“We’re not hurting him,” I murmur.
“Of course not,” Carina says gently, rubbing my arm. “But what do you want to do about him?”
I don’t know.
It’s hard to believe the broken man clinging to me could have done something so heinous. But I alsoknowwhat he’s capable of. I’veseenit.
I crouch to Eli’s level, coaxing him to meet my gaze.
“Hey,” I whisper, taking his hands in mine.
It takes a moment, but his eyes finally focus. He draws in a shaky breath. “Angel.”
“What did you mean?”
He blinks. “What?”