Page 90 of Hollyhocks

“Really? You’re going to shoot me? How would you get the trust fund then, Dad? If I die, all my money goes to Heather and Elijah. That’s how I have it set up.”

“I’ll kill them too.”

“You’re a monster,” I sneer.

“No, they are monsters.” He swings the gun from left to right.

Three other shadows flank me. I turn my head from one side to the other, confused about how my dad knows anything about monster DNA experiments.

All of them have the skin of a snake and reptilian eyes. They remind me of Rhett.

“What the fuck is going on?” I do my best to keep calm. My heart is racing. The air is thick with the promise of war and looking at the five-to-one odds, I’m a goner.

My mom won’t do anything to me. She is all bark and no bite, but my dad and his monster cronies? I’m done for. I can’t fight for my life when the fight is already over before it even begins.

I can’t let him know I know about the DNA experiments. He’d latch onto that bit of information and want to know who my friends are. I can’t do that to Rhett or Creed. And I will die before I ever say Holly’s name to this man.

My family’s money issues start clicking in my head. All the details start forming a picture. All the puzzle pieces slide together with no issue. Wallsworth Candy is having money issues because they funded the monster DNA experiments.

It’s my family that tortured the ones I love.

The information has my head spinning. Guilt is a burden weighing on my heart, twisting my stomach into knots.

Dad strolls up to me with confidence, his pristine suit unwrinkled. For a guy complaining about money, he doesn’t seem to mind paying for brand-name clothes.

He stops in front of me, the barrel of the gun touching the middle of my chest.

“Either you work for me, or I’ll let these monsters have their way with you. Aren’t they wonderful? So unique, so special. They will make me millions when we can get the testing correct.”

Rage has my fingers curling into my palms. My teeth tighten together until they hurt. Anger flushes my entire body with heat.

I can’t stop myself. It’s as if I’m having an out-of-body experience because I’m not a violent guy. I consider myself a lover, not a fighter.

I’ll always choose to die fighting for who has never left me feeling lonely.

I wrap my hand around the gun, my father's clammy hand dampening my skin. We struggle for dominance, yanking and pulling on the gun. His elbow hits me in my nose, blood pouring from my nostrils and down my lips.

One of his monster bodyguards steps forward but Dad stops them.

“Don’t. This is between me and my son.”

“I am not your son,” I growl, slamming my steel-toed boot down on his Italian-leather covered feet.

He shouts from the pain and yet it isn’t enough for him to let go of the weapon.

Something sharp and quick snaps in the air, slicing the back of my knees. A growl echoes in the shop’s chamber, and a long tail riddled with spikes drags across the floor. It scrapes deep divots into the concrete. The monster ignored the order from my father, and he is staring at me with the intent to kill.

Every single tooth he shows is sharp and pointed. He’s ready to tear me limb from limb.

I drop to my knees from the pain. Blood drips down my legs, soaking my jeans. Even with the agony, I refuse to let go of the gun. Nothing will stop me except death.

“Stop doing this to yourself, Fitz. Stop fighting me.”

“Listen to your father, Fitz!” Mom yells.

It’s my turn. I slam my elbow against his groin and that causes him to crumble. Rearing my head back, I smash it against his nose. The bone crushes beneath my forehead. His blood spatters against my face. My ears ring and a violent electric pain zaps through my skull.

I’m dizzy. My vision is out of focus. I try to shake it off, kicking my dad in the stomach when the gun goes off.

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