Free Killer by Francine Pascal

that you are the most vile human being I’ve ever met. Everything else was just in my imagination. I actually imagined I had feelings for you....”
    A searing pain shot down Sam’s spine. That was it. He’d blown it. He’d blown everything. To know that Gaia had felt something for him in the past . . . It was almost too much to bear. The truth had destroyed him. He might as well give up now. There was no point in going on. He’d been checkmated.
    Â 
    THE RESTAURANT SEEMED TO RECEDE into the distance. Gaia stared at the tabletop, at Ella’s glass of wine, sitting there before her. She felt her entire body shutting down.
    Glowing Warmth
    It was the exact same phenomenonthat happened at the end of an exhausting fight. First her eyesight began to dim, then her hearing faded. Her muscles and joints would weaken to the point of collapse. It lasted for only a few minutes, but for that brief time she wasenveloped in a feeling of powerlessness. Of vulnerability. Of being completely exposed.
    And she hated it.
    Still, being powerless after a fight wasn’t nearly as miserable as being emotionally powerless. As
this.
At least when someone was pounding on you, you knew it was bound to end soon and your body would eventually heal. Or you’d die. Either way, it would end.
    â€œ...I didn’t even know she was your foster mom.” Was Sam still talking? She could barely hear his voice. It was as if the painful words were being absorbed right through her pores, slipping into her bloodstream.
    â€œ. . . went to a bar and got drunk . . . She just kind of appeared out of nowhere—”
    â€œStop,” Gaia commanded, squeezing her eyes shut and slumping helplessly against the seat. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear about this.”
    â€œBut I want you to know, I was depressed about you and your boyfriend,” Sam persisted.
    Gaia’s eyelids fluttered open. She scowled atSam. Now he was telling lies that had no
hope
of working. He was clutching at straws—bizarre ones, at that. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Sam, okay? So stop. Nothing you’re saying is making any sense. . . .” Waves of agony washed over her, reaching excruciating heights that rivaled even the mysterious murder of her mother. Ever since she met Sam, Gaia felt that there wasa reason to go on with her miserable life. For whatever reason, Sam had given her life purpose. He’d been . . . different.
    But that was just a dream—an impossible dream of somebody who didn’t even exist. Sam was a lot like her father in that way. Somebody who never delivered. He had done something cheap, just like every other guy looking for a good time. Gaia knew that there was no way she could be with him now. And without Sam, there was no point in caring about anything anymore. He had been her last hope.
    More than anything, Gaia wanted to deaden the pain, but her body was wide awake. Her mind was alert—refusing to enter the bliss of unconsciousness. Almost without even realizing it, she found her fingers reaching for the base of the wineglass, for that heavy red liquid. Gaia remembered her dinner with Uncle Oliver, at that expensive restaurant, and how soothing the wine had been. It had enveloped her in a glowing warmth. . . .
    â€œTell me, Gaia,” Sam begged, his voice growing more and more feverish even as it faded from her senses. “What do I need to do to make you believe me? Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”
    â€œNothing,” she answered, raising the glass. “There’s nothing you can do.”
    Â 
    PEARL FIERCELY KICKED THE POINTED toe of her shoe into the base of a streetlight. What the hell was Ella
doing?
She shouldn’t be walking. She should be convulsing. Never,
ever
had a target escaped once, let alone twice. Pearl might understand it if her target was exceptionally clever. But Ella was an egocentric fool. Annihilating her should have been easy.
    Death