Lilly
Iclosed my eyes as everyone left the home.
Not “my” home. Not “my father’s” home. This had never felt like my home, and now my father was dead. It was just a house that I happened to be in, and it was a house I did not want to stay in.
I could not stand the sight of what lay in front of me, no matter how much I knew I’d have to stare at it in tonight. I just had to remove at least the perpetrators of this scene; justified or not, it was still the greatest tragedy to know how much death had descended upon this house. It made no difference to me that many of these men had acted cruelly to me; death was a punishment from which there was no recovery from.
I knew Cole wanted to stay behind. Truth be told, a part of me wanted his arms. But most of me wanted space. I wanted the thing that I had never had my entire life, even in that week or so where I’d escaped my father.
Freedom.
I wanted an evening alone to process my emotions and the outcome of tonight. I wanted to sleep without knowing a man was a few rooms over, even if he wasn’t actively eavesdropping or watching me. I wanted…
No, I needed this. I needed privacy. I needed time to mourn.
Because, just as Cole had a year and a half ago, I had lost my father. And even if Lucius Sartor had committed many a heinous act, for as evil and terrible a person as he was, he had done one thing right, or at least done one thing with good intentions. He had raised me and made an effort to protect me from the darkest parts of the world.
When the last of the Reapers’ footsteps had left, when the sound of motorcycles roaring to life had faded into the distance, when the only sound that filled the air was the very distant chirping of crickets, I opened my eyes. I looked down at my father’s lifeless body, having drawn its last breath just minutes before. If there was an afterlife, it was too late to influence his fate one way or another; the least and the most I could do was to say some quick words for him.
“Father,” I said, taking his hand in mine. “I know we had our differences. I know that I ran from you. But after tonight, I realize now that you were sincere in wanting what was best for me. Perhaps I failed to recognize it. Perhaps I failed to even try to recognize it. But…”
I thought I was going to cry, but then I realized something either profoundly fucked up or profoundly telling. I had no more tears left to shed. I had cried so much recently that I had used up all of my mourning. I had become an empty husk now, left without the capacity for tears.
“But I know that buried somewhere deep within you, past the violence, past the need for vengeance, past your feelings for your father, you wanted to do what was best for me. And though your actions may not have been right, your intentions were, at least with me. So, Dad…”
I sighed. It was the only type of genuine emotion I could muster.
“No matter what happens in the future, I forgive you. I love you, and... yeah. I’ll do my best to learn from you.”
The words sounded good as I said them out loud. But the truth was, they left me yearning.
I never would get to see my father learn how to be a good man. I never would get the type of relationship with him that two adults could have. I didn’t need a daddy-daughter relationship any longer; I only wanted to have a loving, genuine relationship with him. And that would never come.
I could not blame Cole and Lane for killing my father, but that didn’t mean that I would ever forget or sympathize with the moment. Perhaps my father’s sheltering had had one intended effect; I found any type of killing abhorrent, and for it to be my father…
“I love you, Dad.”
I leaned forward, kissed him on the forehead, and quickly closed his eyes, feeling grossed out by the whole scene. I stood, wobbled as I felt a bit lightheaded, and started looking around the house.
The place looked like something either out of a horror movie or a warzone. There was blood everywhere; I could not turn a single corner or look into a single room without having it look like the blood was paint, for there was so much of it everywhere. So, too, did bodies litter the entire place. Most of them had Fallen Saints clothing, but a couple wore Black or Gray Reapers clothing. Both sides had paid a deadly price for what had happened, but it was pretty obvious that my father’s side had met its end.
I wasn’t wrong, then, about what I suspected. My father had always meant to take me to Oregon and come with me to escape. He just had failed to do so in time. He knew that his club would get wiped out.
But he wanted to get me to safety.
Well, he was going to get his way in one regard.
I had to get out of this house. I wanted nothing to do with it. Even when the blood was cleaned, the bodies were removed, and the debris was cleared, I would still remember it. This night and this house would haunt me for some time.
Would I go to Albuquerque? Or Oregon? Or New York City? It was too early to say.
But I had nothing left for me here now. That may have been true before, but with my father gone forever, it was even truer than it had been. I’d sell the home and tell the buyers they could do whatever they wanted with it. The only upside was that I’d make a few million on the sale, and I’d never have to worry about money again. I could pursue my acting career with vigor.
But at the cost of my father’s life? At the cost of all of this bloodshed?
No, it wasn’t worth it.
Briefly, I considered just leaving right then and there. I considered just taking one of my father’s bikes or cars, going somewhere far away, and then moving on. But there was still work to be done here. I could not ruin my father’s legacy—whatever shred of it remained—by just bailing at the first opportunity I got.
