“Problem,Dad?” He laughed again, and he sounded like a maniac.
Ville said no more. Hell went back to terrorizing his mother after winking his pretty eyes at me—eyes, that looked colder than ever.
With the blade back in hand, he tickled the inside of his mother’s thigh.
His eyes darted between both parents before stilling on his father.
“Why don’t you sit down, or I’ll shove into her cun—”
“Don’t say that word!” Wynter shook, trying to edge back into the seat.
The words caught me off guard, too, my eyes widening in horror. My brain tried to convince myself that he wouldn’t really do it, but the energy in the roomtold me I was the only one who thought that way.
“Apologies, for once again offending you, Mother. Ask your God to fucking forgive me, huh?”
Ville moved around my chair, finally moving from his. He was using me as a distraction. . . as bait.
And Hell took it instantly.
His eyes met mine for a second. His lips lifted as he looked at the man behind me, who now had his rough fingers on the back of my chair. Close to my skin. So close, I could smell the dirt beneath his nails. . . it smelt like blood. . . like death. . . and it hinted how I feared the next minutes could play out.
“Don’t listen to the things he says, as you can see, he’s out of his mind.” Ville’s hands began weaving through my hair, and I found myself pleading, “Woodrow. . .”come back. . .
Woodrow didn’t answer, but Hell spoke again. “Is it not as joyous? Not as fun when someone is touchingyour girl? Did you not like seeing the fear in her poppy eyes?”
Ville didn’t answer.
No one dared to answer. No one dared to move.
I was pinned to my seat. My back glued to the chair, rigid and terrified. My eyes bugged massively as Ville’s hands moved to my shoulders.
“What made you think you could do that?” Hell quizzed, tightening his grip on the blade. “Drop your hands lower. I dare you.” His smile grew.
“Hell, you’re scaring me.” Nessie’s little voice trembled, cutting through the thick atmosphere like she had a blade of her own. “Daddy, I’m scared.” She was wondering why he had chosen to stand by me, and not protect her. . .
She didn’t see the sinister reasons.
She thought it was because he cared about me more than her; she didn’t realize it was because I was the only one disposable to him.
Ville eyed his wife; a silent plea headed his way from her eyes, that I heard and felt, even if he didn’t.
Don’t let him hurt her.
But it didn’t hold the emotion I’d expected.
Hell tucked away his knife. . . a dangerous smirk on his face as he turned to his tiny sister.
“Tuck your chair in, Jolie.” Ville kicked the leg of my seat before he sat back in his own, moving from me in an act of surrender.
I pulled my chair closer to the table, not having realized how far back I’d pushed through my fear when all this first kicked off. A chain brushed across the floor, shifted by my giant slippers. The sound brought all the attention to me, including Hell’s. . . and for once, I didn’t want it, but I was glad it was no longer on Nessie, who’d trembled beneath his glare.
“Don’t worry about that,” Wynter told me—her voice still unsteady with nerves—before I had a chance to glance beneath the gingham cloth hiding the mystery item from my view. Not that I would have. I wouldn’t take my eyes off Hell. “It’s not important. For the dogs,” she continued.
“You have dogs?” I questioned, trying to focus on anything other than what was happening in the here and now. But still found myself blinking back in confusion, knowing how much Ville hated animals as I waited for any clarification.
But none came.
And even if Ville was to tolerate man’s best friend, I’d been here weeks, and the only animal I’d witnessed around here was Bonny.
