Her head shakes as more tears escape her eyes, rolling down her cheeks and becoming one with the water.
“God,” Thomas moans next to me, “I’ve been waiting for your go-ahead with little Kitty Cat.” He thrusts his hips and I want to laugh. His acting is terrible; his face conveys that his words make him sick, but anything for the game.
“Promise,” Clare mutters around the barrel. Hiccupping, “Promise me you won’t.” Sadness etches across her face. I’m shocked to see actual care for Catherine. And I need to know if that care goes to her other daughter, too.
“Well,” I tap on my chin, “can I have Clover?”
Clare’s head shakes vigorously as her eyes widen, thinking maybe I’ll make a trade with her. Her other daughter for her life.
I squint at her, repulsed. “What kind of mother are you?” I spit at her.
Weeks mutters under his breath where she can’t hear him, “Bitch.”
“It’s time you go meet your husband. I’m sure he’s waiting for you in hell.”
Her sobs come out loud, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
“Now, Clare.”
The bullet tearing through her brain cuts her unholy scream short. We all three stand there, watching her head bleed out, slowly sinking under the water, that’s dying crimson.
Stepping back, I look at Thomas. “Call Damian, make sure Rowan is safe. I want her taken to the gym.”
“On it.” He turns around and heads out of the bathroom.
“I need to get home.” Panic laces my voice as I look to Weeks, who only nods my confirmation.
“Let’s set this place blazing.” Weeks' face is void of any emotion, but his eyes are tinged with pure rage.
Not giving Clare or Aiden a second look, we run out of the bathroom, down the stairs where Thomas is on the phone and going through a backpack, pulling out explosives.
Weeks runs to him, grabs one, and disappears upstairs.
Hanging up the phone, I say, “Damian is on it.”
And that’s all I needed to hear for my heart to steady its pace. Knowing soon, Rowan will be at Hard Knocks.
I finally notice my aching body, now that my adrenaline has petered off some. Reaching for a bundle of explosives, taking it to the living room, when my head swivels to the closet door, remembering the girl I forced in there. I stand there, looking at it, before setting the explosives on the island and pushing the timer. “Sorry,” I whisper to the closed closet and the girl trapped in there. I don’t know who she is or what she knows, and I won’t take that chance, not if it means Rowan is at stake.
I thought I was going to leave without a woman’s blood on my hands, but here I am, knowingly leaving her. My mind and heart fight me as I walk to the open front door where Thomas and Weeks stand. Looking back behind me, “Forgive me.”
We book it out of the house, to the car that’s now sitting in the driveway, idling. The exhaust leaves white smoke in the cool night air.
Exiting the gate, Weeks looks at me, handing me the detonator. Not letting myself have a second thought, I push the red button; the house explodes instantly, fire erupting, the car shakes from the impact as Thomas fishtails onto the street, putting distance between us and the house.
NOW
Removing my clothing to step inside the shower, the need to wash my sins away is interrupted by my phone ringing.
Looking at it, it’s Damian.
“Hey.” I pick up on the third ring.
I can hear muttering through the speaker, “We have a problem.”
My heart sinks. “What?”
“I went to get Rowan, and the apartment is empty. Roxy was in the hallway.” His voice is strained.
