The whip and its knotted tails shot forward.
The first lick shredded my t-shirt, biting sharply into my chest.
A scream balled in my throat, but I’d finally learned. I’d learned not to focus on myself or my sister or prey or hope or happiness or normalcy. I’d learned to focus on him—my father, my ruler, my life-giver.
So I did.
Every strike, I took with pride because Cut felt proud of me.
Every cut, I accepted with gratefulness because Cut finally believed he’d earned a worthy son.
I listened to him and only him.
And it saved me from myself.
I gripped the table as a feverish weakness throttled me. I couldn’t do this much longer. Every part of me was heavy with sickness and toil. I’d proven my point. I’d made him suffer. I had to end this before I drove myself into a grave beside him.
Pushing off from the wood, I stalked to face Cut on the rack.
His eyes widened, locking onto the whip.
“Let’s see if you’ve learned your lesson, Father. Let’s see if you can accept what you gave me as quietly as I accepted it.”
My arm shook as the whip sailed over my shoulder. I paused as the cords slapped against my back, ready to shoot forward and strike its quarry.
Cut bit his lip. “Kite...”
I didn’t wait for more. “No.”
Grunting, I threw every remaining energy into my arm and hurled the whip forward. The knots found his shirt; they sliced through it like tiny teeth, blood spurting from his flesh.
And finally, his emotions switched from sadistic hatred, misplaced actions, and a lifetime of incorrect choices to begging and shaming and accepting everything in full measure.
His head bowed as I struck again, tears streaming from his eyes. Not from pain. But the knowledge he’d done this to people he’d loved. He’d willingly done this to hischildren. And there was no worse crime than that.
I’d finally broken him. Finally shown him the error of his past. Finally taught him what it was like for us. He paid homage to Emma Weaver. He said sorry to Jasmine. He repented toward Nila. And finally,finally, he submitted to me and my power.
His apologies layered my mind.
His regret boomed in his thoughts.
He accepted what had to happen.
We were no longer father and son, teacher and disciple.
We were two men cleaning up the mess we’d caused.
Two men alone in a world we’d created.
And we would both suffer a lot more before it was over.
Chapter Thirty
Nila
HE DIDN’T COME back.
Minute after minute.
