“I like that plan,” I reply, eyeing Matthew warily as he reacts to the plan we’re making no effort to hide.
Pride blooms in Coop’s voice when he says, “I thought you might, sweetheart.”
Not done with his monologing, Matthew decides to ignore Cooper completely. “I so wanted to keep you allthose years ago. I begged my father to let me have you. But instead, you chose them. That was a mistake you’ll pay for shortly. I’ve played the long game. I’ve waited my turn.”
“I’m not a fucking hand-me-down toy.”
“I am giving you one chance; touch her again, and I will make the hurt last an eternity, fuck face,” Caleb seethes, his body thrumming with rage every time Matthew dares to get too close to me.
“Mighty words for a guy strapped up like a pig ready for slaughter.”
He pulls a baggie from his pocket and prises open my mouth, emptying the pills onto my tongue. I thrash as best as I can, but with his palm smothering my face, I instinctively swallow them.
He roots his disgusting fingers around in my mouth to make sure I haven’t tucked them away under my tongue, and I use the opportunity to bite down as hard as I can. My senses dulling, my reactions slowing as he prises them from my grip. Shaking out his hand, he pulls his gun free and turns up the volume on the radio.
“For all those lovers out there. An oldie but a goodie. This one goes out to Ebbie. Now. Forever. Always.’
I bristle at the disc jockey’s dedication as Matthew draws a heart in the air with fingers blackened with dry paint.
He had been my mystery painter; he had been in my room.
Buffalo Springfield’s“For What it’s Worth” echoes around the space, and everyone in attendance is dragged back kicking and screaming to the day of the fire.
“I’m about to rock your fucking world, sweetness.” He inhales my scent, his nose pressed into my tangled mess of hair, his broad chest expanding as he fills his lungs to near bursting.
Riling up the animal he keeps locked away, a frustrated sigh leaves his lips. Murdering Megan as quickly as he had isn’t enough to sate the beast within him.
The drugs begin to kick in, my eyes drooping as my breathing slows to short pants. He’s quick to test the efficacy of what he’s forced me to ingest by holding up my chin and letting it fall back against my chest. He makes light work of my bindings, and I slump in his hold, trying to talk but unable to get any words out; the hit to my face aches, the blood loss and the drugs a lethal cocktail to my system as unconsciousness beckons me home.
He holds me against his body; my sock clad feet perched on his as he dances us around the space.
“I can’t believe this shit stain thinks he’s man enough for her.”
“I’m surprised he’s gone through all this trouble. He probably can’t even get it up.”
The Knox brothers are nothing if not artfully obtuse when it comes to pushing Matthew’s buttons. Any fool could see what they are doing, but Matthew Turner—boy most likely to raise cattle in secondary school—he falls for it hook, line, and sinker.
He drops me unceremoniously to the ground, and the knock to my head as it hits the concrete has the opposite effect. It wakes me up.
I hear the brother’s screams as Matthew turns on ablow torch , the hiss of burning flesh urging me on to take my revenge.
My nails scrape at the dirt covered floor until they find what I’m looking for.
How easy it would be to give in. To let him take what he wants from my body.
But giving up just isn’t in my DNA.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
EBONY
“That’s for me.” Using one dainty arm in a chokehold around his throat, I lock into the position just the way Cooper taught me when I was fifteen. Matthew bucks like a bull, trying to get me off. It takes me a moment to realise the cackling laugh filling my ears is my own. The blowtorch clatters to the ground. The blood lust I feel, knowing I have the power to end this piece of shit, has my body lighting up like it’s Guy Fawkes. I’m almost sad that it all happens so quickly. The promise of redemption a live wire to my soul.
Twisting the broken blade of my knife in my hand for better leverage, I sink it back into his throat with a grunt, opening up a fresh hole with as much force as I can muster. The tip of it teasing the skin on the other side of his neck as the blade slices through his windpipe. “Looks like it still gets the job done, fucker. That’s for Megan.” I whisper with a ragged breath into his ear as his body shakes under my hold.
Seconds feel like minutes.
My hand is messy with a mix of his blood and mine as my grip around the blade tightens, but all I feel is the electric jolt of excitement as I let loose.
