Kill Switch by Penelope Douglas

box Rika had held and noticed there was something stuck
under the lid, preventing it from closing all the way.
I opened it, nudging the razor blade back inside and
hesitating as I surveyed the rest of the items. An assortment of
desserts that had been constant and reliable during a time
when I was a kid, and they were the only things I could trust.
A paperclip, sewing needle, push pin, pocket knife,
scissors, tiger tooth, small animal antler, and a bird skull for
the sharp nostril edges. Most of them were sterilized, having
not been used in a long time, but my gaze dropped to the
lighter, and I absently rubbed my thumb over my index finger,
feeling the raised skin from the old burn.
I looked at the push pin. I could sleep tonight. If I really
wanted to.
I tapped my fingers silently on the box, indulging in the
thought of the temptation, but then I heard a knock on the
door, and I blinked, inhaling a deep breath.
“Sir,” Matthew Crane, the lead security detail my father
had given me, said behind me. “The extra equipment you
asked for is at the site.”
I nodded absently, closing the box and fastening the clasp.
“You can go home,” I told him. “I won’t need you for a few
days.”
Tucking the box back in the duffel bag, I walked to the
sofa and finished getting dressed, lacing up my boots and
grabbing my bag, stuffing my suit inside.
“You’re going tonight?” he asked, probably noticing my
attire. “You won’t have much light, and it’s supposed to rain,
sir.”
I shot him a look as I finished gathering my shit.
He didn’t press further, simply dismissing himself.
“Congratulations,” he said. “On your nuptials, I mean. We’ll
wait for your call.”
I followed him out the door, he and the other man both
flanking me as we descended the stairs and left the club.