CHAPTER 9- NO MORE TEARS

BETTY'S POV 

I don't know what I was thinking showing up here alone. I told myself it was just curiosity, that I'd keep my distance and leave as soon as I got what I came for. But standing outside his house now, with the darkness pressing down like a weight, I realized I'd underestimated him.

The front door was locked—of course, it was—but I had a plan. Or at least, I thought I did. My pulse raced as I moved to the side of the house, crouching low behind some overgrown bushes. There was a window I'd seen earlier, one that didn't quite close all the way.

I slipped my fingers under the frame, gritting my teeth as I lifted it just enough to squeeze through. The house was quiet, unnervingly so, but I told myself he wasn't home. He couldn't be.

Once inside, I crouched low, scanning the room. It smelled like stale air and cheap cologne, the kind that sticks to your clothes and clings to your skin. My eyes adjusted to the dim light, and I moved carefully, my heart hammering against my ribs.

I was only here to look around, to find something—anything—that might give me leverage. Khloe needed answers, and I need to know who she is and why she would do anything to know this Nauthers person.

But then I heard it. The soft creak of a floorboard.

My stomach dropped. I froze, straining to hear over the blood pounding in my ears. Another creak, closer this time.

"Lost, are we?"

His voice was low, almost amused, and it sent a shiver down my spine. I whipped around, my eyes locking onto his shadowy figure in the doorway.

"I… I didn't mean to—"

"To break into my house?" he interrupted, stepping into the room. The dim light caught his face, and there was something almost calm about his expression. Too calm.

"I wasn't—I mean, I wasn't trying to—"

"Save it," he said, cutting me off. "You think I don't know who sent you?"

My breath hitched. "Sent me? No one sent me. I—I just—"

"Don't lie to me," he snapped, his calm façade cracking. He took another step forward, and I stumbled back, my knees hitting the edge of a table.

"Khloe," he said, almost to himself. "She always was a clever one. Taking care of Wilder, that one. But I see through it now. And sending you? That's a new low."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said, my voice trembling. "I'm not—"

He laughed, a cold, hollow sound that made my skin crawl. "Oh, don't play dumb. Do you think I didn't notice? The way the two of you hang out with each other. I follow you people everywhere.

I shook my head, my hands raised as if that would somehow stop him from coming closer. "Please, you've got this all wrong. I'm not here for her. I just—"

He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. "Oh, you'll take me to her," he said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Let's go for a little trip, shall we? "Please," I begged, tears streaming down my face. "I don't even know her that well. I swear!"

But he didn't care. He dragged me out of the house and threw me into his car, his eyes wild with a mixture of rage and something else, something darker.

The drive to Khloe's house felt like an eternity. I tried to reason with him, to tell him this was all a misunderstanding, but he didn't listen. He just kept muttering to himself, his grip on the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white.

When we got there, he made me knock on the door. My hands shook so badly I could barely lift them, but I did as he said—the first knock. No response. Come on Khloe, answer—the second. Nothing. He signaled one of the guys to open the door. The guy bent down using some tools to pick the lock, the door slid open revealing Khloe's apartment.

He grabbed my arm and pushed me into the living room, I fell face down on the cold floor. I looked at him from the ground, my voice shaking.

"You are Nauthers, aren't you?" I asked, hot tears prickling down my face.

"Oh you've got it all wrong darling" He moved closer to me, kneeling, grabbing my chin, and stroking my hair.

"Nauthers is not a who, it's a what." He said, his eyes widening, before shoving me back to the ground. I whimpered as I ran to hide close to the coffee table, placing my head on my knees. I was confused now. So Nauthers is not a person? 

"She does not know I came over to your place. She does not even know I found out your address." I told him, my face still buried in my knees.

"Really. Well, that proves nothing. She has to be careful who she lets in on this adventure we are both on." He got up headed into her kitchen grabbed a glass of wine and poured himself something.

"We'll just leave her a message then." He handed the cup to one of the big guys, who used a napkin to clean—what I assume—his prints.

One of the guys headed towards my direction, grabbing me. I saw him bring out a sharp blade, almost as if it had never been used. I fought with all my strength, screaming, and clawing but nothing worked. Hot tears ran down my eyes as I thought of what they would do to me..

The blade was cold, a sudden, sharp sting that made me gasp. I tried talking but all I could feel was a sharp pain in my throat almost as if I ate a pepper. I reached for my throat, the warm feeling of liquid draining down my hands.

Was I sweating? No, I wasn't. it was something else, something with an iron smell—my blood.

"I'm sorry," I heard a whisper. "I'm so sorry she put you through this." I thought of Khloe.

Had she set me up? Was this all her fault? I thought we were in this together. I thought… I thought I could trust her. But now I'm here, dying on a cold floor, and she's probably long gone by now.

Why did I even go there? What did I think I was going to find? Was it worth it? No. No, this wasn't worth it. It wasn't supposed to end like this.

I felt the weight of everything—every mistake, every misstep. I tried to scream, but all that came out was more blood, choking me, suffocating me.

My vision began to blur, the world spinning as my pulse slowed. This was it. This was how it ended. I wasn't ready. I hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye.

His face was the last thing I saw as I hit the ground, the darkness closing in fast. And then… nothing.

KHLOE'S POV

 I reached for my phone, dialing 911, my hands steady despite the sickening weight of what I had just discovered. As the phone rang, I took a deep breath, forcing my voice to break just enough for them to hear the desperation. For a moment, I let myself imagine the fear—not the fear of the situation, but the fear of being caught. The fear of being too good at this. I had to find a way to make this call perfect.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I—I think something terrible happened," I gasped, forcing my voice to tremble. "I just came home... and I found my girlfriend. She's... she's on the bed. She's not moving. I think she's been attacked. She's... her throat's been slit. There's so much blood." I let the words tumble out in a rush, as though I couldn't even believe them myself.

I closed my eyes for a moment, grounding myself. "Please, you have to help her."

The dispatcher's voice was calm, practiced. "Ma'am, we're sending officers now. I need you to stay on the line. Can you confirm your location?"

I kept my voice shaking, allowing the words to escape in fragmented sentences. "I'm at my apartment, on Maple Street, number 15. She's—oh God, she's not moving. She's bleeding... everywhere."

The dispatcher was quiet for a moment. I could almost feel her mind working through the details. "Ma'am, do you know if anyone else could be involved? Is there any sign of struggle? Did you see anything when you arrived?"

I fought to keep my composure, making sure I wasn't revealing too much. "I... I don't know. I didn't see anyone. When I got here, I just... found her like this. She was fine this morning. We fought this morning on the phone but I messaged her to meet me at home to discuss it. Please, you have to hurry."

"Stay with me, ma'am. Did you check for a pulse? Is she still breathing?"

My stomach twisted. I knew I couldn't lie about everything, not if I wanted to seem credible. "I—I didn't touch her. I... I couldn't. I just called you right away. Please, please hurry."

"Ma'am, stay on the line. Help is on the way. We need to know if there's any other information you can give us—did she have any enemies? Anyone who might want to hurt her?"

I had to pause. This was where I needed to be careful. Too much information would make them suspicious. Too little would make them question my involvement. "I... I don't know. She didn't talk about things like that. I... I don't know. We just—just started seeing each other—3 months now. Please, help her!"

The dispatcher's voice shifted slightly, a note of urgency now creeping into her tone. "Okay, ma'am. Help is on the way. Do not touch anything. Stay where you are."

I let the phone fall from my ear as I slowly sank down to the floor. My eyes never left her body. The blood was still fresh, dark and soaking into the carpet beneath her. The scene was perfect—too perfect to be anything but real. Like he wanted me to still be around so he can taunt.

As for the call, none of it was real. Not the panic. Not the helplessness I was pretending to feel.

I wasn't scared. Not really. I don't know what I am at this point. Angry—yes, I am. Sad—no. I'm not.

She didn't deserve this. It should have been me. I heard the sirens from afar. I never thought I would hear them again after that night. The footsteps of paramedics as they rushed in to look at what happened. My face was still red from all the shouting and pretending to cry. I just stared at her lifeless body.

"Khloe. Are you okay?" A familiar voice asked. I looked up to see it was him. Why is he always here when I need comfort? I found myself getting pulled into a hug. I didn't hug back but I also didn't pull away. Maybe this was something I needed.

I stared into her eyes as she was about to be placed in the bag. My head still buried in Asher's shoulder.

I'm sorry you had to go through this because of me. I promise I will get him and I will end him.