Knox squeezes my chin tighter, thrusting me back into the moment. Reassuring me that even if I fall, he’s here. He’s got me.
I have to be here for him too. Got to stay focused. We’re not out of the woods yet, nowhere near safety.
Dragged back to the moment, my skin prickles as I sense his family’s eyes on me.
We can’t afford to get distracted, not here.
Terrified or not, I have to see where each of them stands. I have to be ready.
Reluctantly, I force my eyes off Bronwyn and Reese, cataloging these monsters one by one. All of them are here,wearing almost identical clothing to what they wore the first night we rolled into this town. Flannel and jeans for the men, a long, blue dress for Ma.
Only difference is, their act isn’t hidden behind too-wide smiles or friendly vibes anymore.
Their depravity is on display.
Each of them came prepared. Each of them has been waiting for this.
Jett flips a hunting knife in his hand, his whole demeanor screaming,Just tell me when, and I’ll stab her.
Papa stands on the other side of Bronwyn’s chair, barely a foot away. He slaps antique dental pliers against his palm.
Ma clutches a lighter and a bundle of herbs that looks like sage. What for?
What the fuck for?
I shove the horror down and turn to Grandpa, who leans against the wall. The older man pushes up his sleeves, mottled patches dotting his forearms. He doesn’t reach for a weapon. Just cracks his fingers.
A shiver tears through me. The fear of the unknown hooks into my spine. My teeth grind. The metallic tang on my tongue has gone rotten.
I hate myself for not seeing this sooner. The signs were there. The silence was unnatural. Their hospitality was forced on us. The museum, the pictures…
And still, I chose to see the goodness in them.
You chose to see the best in Bronwyn too.
Fuck.
No time to wallow. Not here.
As I fight for each breath, Grandpa strolls over to Bronwyn. The bastard looks casual as hell, face relaxed, a small smile curving on his lips as Jett steps aside to allow him access to my twin.
He’s going to kick-start this nightmare.
“Calm down, child.” He pats Reese’s feet, his soft voice meant to soothe his granddaughter.
“Yes, Grandpa.” She’s no longer kicking her feet, only grinning at him.
“Good, good,” he praises her.
My sister can’t do anything but cry and cry.
His hands settle on her, one wrapped around her wrist, the other resting on her shoulder. There’s no hesitation in his posture, no twitch of mercy.
The gaze he drills into me is equally nauseating. He’s not only daring me to stop him; he’s enjoying this.
This, all of this, eviscerates my last vengeful desire to kill Bronwyn.
My hands, I want them wrapped around his throat, snuffing the life out of him.
