Page 91 of Ruthless Rebel

I scoff at that, and she pulls back to glare at me as I spit, “My father was a psychopath, who didn’t love anything but killing.” She is already shaking her head, but I push on. “Do you know how many girls he had strapped to this table before you? You weren’t special. He was going to kill you. You know it, and I know it, that’s why you were here, that’s why you were screaming, I heard you. You screamed stop, don’t, over and over, because you knew that whatever story about him you had concocted in your head, wasn’t fucking real, because he was a monster, a murderer.”

She smashes the gun into my head, forcing it to whip to the side as she screams, “He was my monster.” She digs the knife handle into my face to turn it back to her, the gun back against my skull as she spits, “He loved me, and I loved him, and you took himfrom me, it’s why I tookhimfrom you.”

Her words don’t make any sense, except my mind travels back to that night, to the thunder and the rain, the screaming.

Stop. Don’t. Stop. Don’t. Stop. Don’t…Don’t stop.

Oh god, she wasn’t begging for mercy, she was begging for more.

My eyes meet hers again, and I see it now, the truth. She really did love my father. She didn’t kill Logan for fun, she killed him for revenge.

“I wanted them both, you know, but as his reputation told, Asher Donovan is hard to fucking kill,” she huffs, and fuck, I have never wanted to hurt a woman before, but for her I’ll gladly break my rules about violence against them. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter anymore, now I have you to play with,” she preens, piercing the knife into my throat and holding it there. “I could kill you right now, and no one would hear you scream,” she moans, watching the blood trickle down my neck like it gets her off.

“You forgot, I’m my father’s son, and there is nothing his whore could do to me to make me scream.” I laugh, bringing my hand up and pressing it over hers on the knife, pushing it deeper into my neck.

Our eyes lock, and I see a mixture of anger and excitement there, and both remain as she drags the knife down my throat, slicing me open gently, and watching me bleed.

“I suppose your boyfriend screamed enough. In fact, I bet I made him scream more than you ever did,” she winks, bringing the knife to her lips and licking it clean. “Mmm, not as good as your father, but close enough.”

Keeping her eyes on me, I reply, “You know, I never even thought of you after that night, not once. That’s how irrelevant you were to me, like father like son, I guess.” I smirk, reaching up to swipe some of the blood from my neck, adding it to my mental listof injuries.

“You’re going to die like your mother did, all alone with no one to save you, just like that night.” She presses the knife back to my throat with a smile, and I close my eyes so she doesn't see it coming.

“Who said he was alone?” The dark voice purrs, and I delight, as her eyes widen in response.

I knew he’d follow me, the Dark Prince of my dreams, and soon to be one of her nightmares.

47

ASHER

The sound of my gun cocking echoes around the silent space, as I press it into the back of her skull. It takes all my self control not to pull the trigger and end her right now, but that would be too quick, too kind, not at all what she deserves. Not after what she did, what she took from us. I will never see the light of Logan’s smile again because of her, never again will he be my salvation, only my demise, and Lincoln and I will never truly be whole again without him, and that’s if we even make it at all.

I made sure I was silent as I entered, my footsteps not making a sound as I made my way into the house and down to this room, not alerting either of them to my presence. Which means I listened to her bullshit taunts and the threats, the agonizing bragging about taking Logan from us, each admission slicing right through me with raw fucking pain, but her death doesn’t belong to me.

All of this, everything she has done, it’s all been about Lincoln. She watched him, taunted him, and then took away the one bit of light he had in his life, and for that he will make her pay. I knew, the second she mentioned his father, who she was, and I also knew he was going to steer everyone in the wrong direction. Lincoln never talks about his father, about that night, and I know I’m the first he ever even told, which is how I made the connection.

I looked into his father after he told me about him, and I barely found anything. His crimes were covered well and hardly documented anywhere. Which means the only people who knew the atrocities he committed, had to have been up close and personal with either him, or the investigation. I heard whispers of there being a survivor, but I guess I was so focused on what Lincoln must have gone through, that I never looked deeper into it.

It’s how I made the same realization he did earlier, and like him, I know how to watch, how to hunt, I know him more than he even realizes, and I wasn’t going to lose anyone else I love. So when he slipped out of the room, I didn’t bother following him. I made my own preparations, all in aid of him, and then I watched, waited. It wasn’t long before he slipped out of the back of the mansion, hiding himself from everyone else, clouded by his darkness, but in the dark is where I was made to thrive, and together I knew we’d be unstoppable.

I bring up my other arm, ignoring the burning agony in my shoulder, as I press my knife into the same point on her throat where Lincoln is now bleeding. “You know who I am, don’t you, Vivian?” I ask, and she nods against my blade, her hand holding the gun shaking a little, yet still she stands her ground.

“Everyone knows the spare Donovan,” she tosses back, possibly thinking her taunt will have some sort of effect on me, but all I do is laugh.

“Good, that means you know my reputation, which means you also know I grew up learning exactly how to torture women,” I spit, digging the knife into her throat until the skin breaks, making her moan in pain. “I’m sure you heard what I did to your pathetic little lackey, Billy, and all of his men,” I add, andonly then do I feel her body tense a little. “And trust me, I would love nothing more than to show you every single thing I’ve learned under the hands of my father and brother,” I grit, barely holding myself back, as I focus my gaze towards Lincoln and grin. “But you came here for a Blackwell man, and that is exactly what you’ll get.”

I smash the gun into the back of her head, making her cry out, as she stumbles forward into the table, and just like I knew he would, Lincoln disarms her with ease, tossing her knife aside, and pressing her gun to the center of her forehead.

“Now, I’ll play a game with you,” he tells her darkly, sliding off the table with ease, as I step back behind her, maintaining my own aim. “Get on,” he demands, gesturing to the table, and with two guns locked on her, she has no choice but to follow his command.

“There’s rope in my bag,” I tell him, not taking my eyes off her, and it’s only then that his focus moves around me, toward the door, where he finds my backpack leaning against the frame.

When I was lying in the hospital after Logan was killed, all I could do was think about making someone pay, and I know despite everything, Lincoln would have been thinking the same. I also know exactly how he would want to do that. I'm no stranger to his darkness, or how he likes to work, but with so many eyes on me at the house, I had to work fast. I grabbed rope, a few knives, a hammer, a small ax, and some pliers. If I had more time, I would have meticulously picked out weapons for him to work with, but I’m sure what I have will be more than enough.

I hear him laying them out on the table behind me, but my eyes stay on hers. I expect her to beg, or at least taunt, but her stare is almost blank as she lays down on her back, as she asks, “Are you going to play with me too?” Her lips tip up at the question, as if the thought excites her, and my own can’t help but curl.

“If I had my way, I’d slit your fucking throat right here and now, and never think of you again,” I snarl, pressing the gun into the center of her throat. “You think you’re special, but you’re not, and once you’re gone, we will still remember Logan, yet forget you ever existed.”

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