“I didn’t. It was a birthday gift. From Papa.” One boot hits the first stair toward the basement. “Said when the living-hides fought back, I could have my fun with them. Wasn’t for me. Snapping their necks was always the easiest, painless solution. I saved them from the others whenever possible.”
My stomach twists, righteous fire scorching through me. The things that bastard tried to instill in his child.
“Your dad’s sick.”
“He’s not my problem anymore.” Knox shrugs, his gaze flat. “Not yours either. We’re getting out of here.”
31
KNOX
When I push the door to the farmhouse open, a rotten, metallic stench of blood and bleach crawls out from inside.
But the stench isn’t what raises my hackles. It’s the faint glow from the living room filtering through the crack in the door.
They’re awake.
After pushing the duffel strap over my shoulder, I grip the chainsaw and grab Skylar’s hand.
My eyes lock on hers, and I mouth,Wait.
She gives a single, steady nod.Okay.
“Jett?” Reese’s voice cuts through the silence, high and gleeful.
A dullthudfollows as something heavy hits the floorboards.
I have a good guess as to what that sound might be.
Bronwyn. What’s left of her, anyway.
“Jetty! Come inside! I want you to play with me.”
Skylar doesn’t know what those words mean. I intend to keep it that way.
I shove her behind me, shielding her with my body.
“Oh, Jettttt?” Reese sing-songs.Bang, bang, bangchases her twisted, melodic call. “You’ve spent enough time with Knox. It’s my turn now. Come in already.”
Skylar’s nails dig deeper into my hand. I squeeze back, steadying her, then push the door another inch open.
The hinges groan. My ears perk up, gauging every threat.
The first one I hear is Ma. Her footsteps register as she comes down the stairs. Heavy, but never as heavy as the rest of the men’s.
“Sugarplum, what’d I tell you about hollering this early in the morning?” Ma’s never really disciplined Reese, and the way she’s soft with her, she sure isn’t starting now. “You’ll wake up Papa.”
“Jett’s the one who’s making a fuss,” Reese whines.
“Jett?” I sense Ma’s eyes on the cracked-open door. My guess is she’s squinting. Searching. “You okay, Son? Why won’t you come inside?”
A quick kiss to Skylar’s knuckles, and I let go, dropping the duffel before steadying the saw with my free hand.
Let’s go.
“Not Jett.” I swing the door wide, filling up the space like a wall of rage. “Me.”
Reese, still in her dress from yesterday, sits cross-legged on the floor with Bronwyn’s head in her lap. She’s yanking at the matted strands, twisting them into pigtails.
