Page 7 of Savage

“Are you okay?” Dante asks as he comes over to the desk, and crouching down, he looks directly at me.

Dante’s not overly affectionate, which is something I appreciate. I don’t want the soft caresses and gentle embraces most girls crave, because they take me all the way back to my youth. My father would offer me loving touches as he stole what he had no right to take.

“I will be.” I don’t look at Dante when I speak. If I do, I’ll break down and we can’t afford to waste time. We need to search for any useful information and leave.

I manage to log on to the doctor’s computer and find folders on all the patients he’s been seeing.

“Download copies and let’s get out of here,” Dante orders.

Once I’ve copied every file, folder, and email onto a flash drive, I shove it into my pocket. Then sheathing the knife I used, I place it back into my boot as we make our way out of the office.

The name on the doctor’s appointment calendar won’t lead the cops to me, but it will send them on a wild goose chase for a while. They’ll discover a few other sick fuckers who are now rotting corpses. They can deal with their burials. It’s far too much effort for us, and when all is said and done, we’re doing their work for them.

We go in, do the job, and get out. There isn’t any evidence left behind. Ever.

It’s how we’re able to continue doing this without being caught. We’re meticulous.

Dante doesn’t speak on the way back to the car, and I’m thankful for it. But once he slides into the driver’s seat, he doesn’t start the engine immediately, and I know he’s going to question me.

3

DANTE

I know this shit is difficult. Over the past few months, I’ve had second thoughts. I worry about getting so far into this we can’t turn back, not for my sake, but for the girls. It’s never easy facing monsters from our pasts. It never will be.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask again.

I’m no therapist but this job has taken a toll on Harper, and I wonder if it’s because she’s actually been going to therapy in order to set the doctor up.

When you start talking about your past, it can dredge up all those memories you’ve tried to bury. I would know. Maybe having to recount the past to the doctor has brought all her fears to the forefront of her mind.

I’ve mentioned my concerns to both girls before and suggested they talk to someone, but it’s always been shot down.

“Don’t worry about me so much,” Harper responds, her gaze landing on mine as she grins. But I know her far better than she knows herself, and her smile is not genuine.

“It’s part of who I am, Harper,” I tell her. “There won’t ever be a time I don’t worry about you or Rayne.” It’s the truth.

“Let’s go home and look through these,” she says as she waves the flash drive at me. “I don’t want to risk being here any longer than necessary.”

Even though we have time before the cops arrive and I’ve cut the feeds to the CCTV cameras, there’s always a possibility of being spotted. We’ve avoided being identified or caught so far, but we can’t get too confident.

Starting the engine, I pull out of the lot and head toward the house we’ve been renting. Having plenty of money has made our lives easier, but I still feel guilty about using my share of the Savage fortune.

When I told Drake this is what I was planning to do with my inheritance, he supported me wholeheartedly. He’s the only one who truly understands what it was like in the world we grew up in. Yes, Rayne, River, Caia, and Harper all experienced abuse in some form, but knowing your father was responsible for so much of it, that’s another kind of mindfuck.

In our brokenness, we’ve found healing through revenge. It might not be everyone’s idea of trying to move on, trying to find solace and come to terms with the past, but it is ours. We’re all unique in our own way, which is something I’ve come to appreciate.

Harper sits silently beside me, but I can feel the tension rolling off her in waves. I know for a fact there’s nothing I can say to calm her down. Coming face-to-face with an abuser, someone you thought you could trust or should have helped you, is never easy.

For now, I’ll let her sit quietly. It’s never a bad idea to spend some time working through your thoughts, but once we get home, I’m going to make her tell me what’s going on in her head.

Harper, Rayne and I have become close, closer than I ever thought possible. I feel safe in the knowledge that the three of us will always there for each other. The support and understanding we offer each other has been an important factor in strengthening our relationship.

The silence hangs heavy in the car. I want to say something because it’s making me feel anxious, but I don’t. Harper will open up in her own time. Talking about something so serious needs to be done face-to-face. I know if I have eye contact with her and Rayne, I can read both of them more easily.

Just before we pull into the drive, Harper says, “He tried to apologize.” I don’t look at her. Instead, I allow her the space to think, to speak, to open up. “He wanted to repent for his sins, and I didn’t give a fuck. All I could think about was killing him. Making him pay in a way that would satisfy me.”

Once I’ve parked the car, I kill the engine and sit back in my seat. I know what she’s feeling because I felt the same when my father was taking his last few breaths. Granted, he didn’t apologize. He still believed he was a good man. But all I could think about was his death. It wouldn’t have mattered what he said to me, I still would have wanted him dead.

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