Apparently his broken wrist is forgotten or he lost all feeling because he pays no mind when he uses it to assault me. I kick my foot out, hitting him in the side and crawl to grab for the knife. He pounces on me but he’s too late and the knife is in my hands. I flip myself upright and stab him right in the side.
I stab him again, earning me space to get out from under him and get to my feet. He moans in agony and staggers to his feet clutching his side. Blood starts to seep through his shirt confirming just how deep I got him. A sense of pride bubbles up reminding me that I’m the one to fear in this room. Not this religious imposter.
“This room smells of sweet death. Tell the devil I said hello,” I taunt him before I launch forward.
I’m blinded by the thirst of death that I stab him over and over again. The scent of copper fills my nose and I bask in it. His screams begin to dwindle and with one last thrust, I stab him right in the heart. His body collapses to the floor. Pulling out the knife, I toss it away from him for good measure.
Walking over to the metal table, I take one of the candies out of the bag and walk back over to his body. Breaking his jaw open, I shove it down his throat just like he did to the helpless women in the photos.
I hear a gasp behind me and I turn back to the sound. Monroe and Samantha stand there in utter shock from what they just witnessed. I don’t blame them, though. Blood coats my arms and white dress, looking like Bloody Mary. I would be horrified if I’d seen the state that I’m in but then again, blood and violence doesn’t scare me one bit.
A crashing sound vibrates from upstairs, followed by pounding footsteps. Our names are being shouted throughout the house, familiar voices. They’re here, they found us! I snatch up the knife from the floor, just in case the slaughtered filth rises from the dead. I know he’s far gone, but it brings me comfort all the same.
“Go, get out of here. I don’t want her seeing any more of this.” I gesture toward the door. “I’ll be up in a minute. I just need a minute.”
They hesitate at first but they reluctantly do as I say. Monroe supports Sam and helps her up the stairs until they disappear from view. My body comes down from its high and I can feel every single ache and wound that was inflicted come to surface. I make no move towards the stairs as if I'm cemented in place.
I look back down at the dead body lying on the floor, trying to feel some sort of relief but it doesn’t come. All I feel is anger for all that he’s done. For all the time he stole from Sam andher child, from Monroe being away from her friends and family, and rage for what he did to me. I’ve never allowed someone to have so much power over me and my plan had gone to utter shit.
I hear my name again, much closer than the last call and footsteps follow down those stairs. Looking up, I’m met with those familiar, beautiful blue eyes that I missed so much. The knife in my hand slips from my hand, hitting the hard floor. That’s when the relief finally sets in and as if on queue, my body collapses to the floor. Giving up the last of the energy I had remaining.
Strong hands wrap around my body, securing me with so much protection. His woodsy smell invades my senses, giving me the sense of peace that we all long for. My eyes begin to blur and his face begins to fade away. Maybe fate’s plan was to keep me alive long enough to get them out.
“Stay with me, baby girl. You’re safe. Please stay with me.” His husky pleading voice fills my ears.
Maybe happily ever afters only exist to those who are good. At least Gabby will be able to see her mom again. If this is my end, I won’t complain. Maybe I’ll be able to see my father again. Darkness sweeps over me once again, welcoming me back home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
ALARIC
“The evil that men do lives after them; the good is oft interred with their bones.” - William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar
Time is of the essence and the sand in the hourglass is nearing the end. Each grain falls gracefully down the funnel causing dread to puncture me right in the gut. Fear has never been an issue for me until now.
Antonio’s foot is like a cinder block, weighing down on the accelerator but no matter how fast we go, it doesn’t seem fast enough. The landscape outside the window is a blur as we race on before the last grain of sand hits the bottom.
Anxiety.
Rage.
Worry.
I can't decipher between the three what has a stronger hold on my neck. It’s like the demon is fighting its way up to the surface to wreck havoc on everything in sight but the new version of myself is trying to keep it tame.
Deeper and deeper, we drive to the middleof nowhere as the city blurs in the rearview mirror. The FBI would no doubt have traced the IP back to the cult-like community, but they would have never found out where the victims were really held. They would have run in circles over and over again searching the perimeter only to come up empty-handed. I guess there are perks for working with the Mafia. Reckless, ruthless, and violence is what gives them the answers they need. Even if bodies are dropped and blood is spilled. Lucky for them, they have a clean-up crew, probably why the police can never gather any concrete evidence to charge them.
“Your anxiety is clouding the car. Push that shit down,” Antonio grumbles without looking my way.
I have no idea how he’s so damn calm when his cousin is literally cut up and bound. The difference between him and me, he’s built for these situations. They’re trained at a young age for these types of situations. They keep their mouths shut and endure whatever pain is inflicted on them. I’m built to find the dead before we even have the chance to save them, or find someone who is so mentally fucked up they end up ending their own life to keep the nightmares away.
“She’s your family. How do you keep it together without losing it?” I glance over at him, trying to catch any glimpse of emotion from the ruthless Italian in the driver's seat.
He doesn’t answer right away as his brows pinch together. It seems like he’s looking back at a memory, running through it over and over again. His hands tighten around the wheel, giving me a smidge of emotion.
“This isn’t the first time she’s been held captive. The difference between the two, the first time was not planned and this one was. The first time was a hit job. Get rid of the Mafia king and the heiress. When we finally found her, well, she found us, she emerged from an alleyway beaten up but alive. Then the news of her father passing away right after she came back tous.” He pauses, contemplating, picking and choosing which information to give me.
I had no idea she’s been through this once before. She wasn’t quite forthcoming with her history or who she really was anyway. To be captured and then finding out about her father’s passing, that has to mess someone up to the max. But she seemed to turn it into power, power she held over everyone.
