Breaking Hailey: Chapter 38

I pull up and a rare sense of dread fills my veins.

Jensen doesn’t move a muscle.

The headlights illuminate his pale, wet body strapped to the chair three feet away, the up and down movement of his chest notably missing.

Three days is a lot of time to consider the consequences and—as bitter a pill as it is to swallow—leaving Jensen out here was not my brightest moment.

I had good intentions, but… oh well. Shit happens.

Instead of hauling Jensen out here, I should’ve killed him in Boston. Andres would’ve disposed of the body on the spot, saving me another trip today.

I came here knowing Jensen wouldn’t see another sunrise. Like I said, three days is a long time to think, and leaving Jensen alive would be a bad move. I’d have had to trust he’d keep his tongue in check and stay away from Hailey.

Trust isn’t earned in three days.

Yup, this whole endeavor was not thought out. In my defense, both this territoriality and the pathological protectiveness I feel for Hailey are new. Difficult to navigate. Both make me an impatient, vengeful man. Maybe I’m more like my dad than I’d like to admit. It’ll take a while before I learn how to manage these feelings and alter my decision-making process.

I exit the car, my boots crunching fresh leaves as I get closer, pressing two fingers to Jensen’s neck to confirm my assumption from his stiff, pale body.

No pulse… looks like fate has made my decision… one less job for today. I don’t have to kill him.

He’s dead.

A man his size should’ve lasted longer.

I unclasp the leather straps binding Jensen’s wrist, my clothes soaked as I crouch to release his legs.

The cops began searching the woods less than an hour before I came out. I doubt they made it two miles in, given the rain’s falling in fucking sheets, turning the woodland into a slick, muddy obstacle course. The dark, cloudy sky making nine am look like nine pm won’t help them, either.

Even if they walk for ten hours straight, they won’t find him. They started behind the main building, heading north, and Jensen’s down south.

They’ll look for a few days, then stop, Jensen becoming one of the thousands of others categorized as missing every year. His case will be filed under unfortunate events, and everyone will move on.

I should’ve killed him on the spot. Now I’ve got to make another trip to Boston. Andres is already waiting, his men poised to not only dispose of the corpse, but also detail my car.

Once Jensen’s back in the comfort of the trunk, I slam it closed and dismantle the restraint chair as much as the design allows, shoving the parts onto the back seat.

Mercy is hard fucking work…

Lesson learned.

Once the scene’s clear and I’m certain the heavy rain will conceal my tire tracks, I set off toward Boston, eager to get back before sunset.