Page 81 of Split

He pivots around frantically, stammering incoherently before rushing for the door and running down the stairs into the subterranean tunnels. The dogs trot over and I crouch down to greet them with scratches and praise as I hear the pounding of my father’s footsteps reverberating from below as they recede in the distance. Then I push up to my feet, smiling down at my furry friends.

“Aport,” I say as I point down the staircase, repeating the command Knox taught me.Fetch.

The two of them take off with excited barks, a smile coming to my lips as they set off to chase my father down in the labyrinth of tunnels.

“You did well,” Knox murmurs as both he and Roman gravitate toward me. “But are you really going to give him five minutes? In case you’ve forgotten, we’re hosting a party in the other room.”

I scowl back at him, pointing the tip of my knife in his direction. “Didn’t you say this was my revenge to dole out?”

He cracks a smile.

“Let’s go,” I say, gathering the skirt of my gown up in a hand and turning for the stairs.

It’s funny, last time I was down here I was terrified, running for my life. Now my father’s the one running scared in the dark, and there’s something exciting about being on the other end of the hunt. I think I finally understand the nuances of Knox’swarped psyche, because the rush I get as I descend the cold stone staircase is exquisite.

The twins follow me down, the three of us splitting up and Roman calling off the dogs so we can begin our own hunt. They promised they’d leave the kill to me, but it only seemed fair to let them get something out of this, too. And theydohave an affinity for lurking in the dark and terrifying their victims.

The tunnels are just as dark and disorienting as I remember, but since I’m not in a panic this time my senses are sharp, my footsteps measured. Adrenaline roars through my veins as I weave my way through them, searching for any sign of my prey.

I find him quicker than I expect to. Following the sound of his labored grunts, I squint through the darkness to see him crawling on the ground, leaving a trail of blood like a snail behind him. His foot is twisted unnaturally, bone protruding from a rip in his slacks.

“I thought I told you to leave this to me?” I groan, knowing the man responsible for my father’s injury is lurking somewhere nearby.

“It was taking too long, I want to get back to our party,” Knox grumbles as he prowls up behind me, one hand landing possessively on my hip and the other flicking on his phone, turning on the flashlight to illuminate my father’s pathetic form.

He rolls to his back, his chest heaving and his once polished suit askew. “Eliza, please, you don’t want to do this…” he pants, voice hoarse with trepidation.

“You’re wrong, father,” I exhale bitterly. “I’ve wanted nothing more for a long time now; long before I learned you murdered my mother. Every time you made a comment about my scar. Or what I was eating. Or took out your anger on me and left bruises on my skin.” I finger the blade of my knife, turning it over in my palm as I stand over him. “Confess, and I’ll make this quick.”

“This isn’t you,” he rasps.

“Show him who you really are, Eliza,” Knox urges as he taps my butt in encouragement, a lilt of wicked excitement in his tone.

I sweep my arm above my head as I drop to a knee beside my father’s prone body, driving the blade into the meat of his thigh. “Confess!”

He cries out in pain, warm blood splattering my chest as I pull the knife free and pointing the tip at his face.

“Fine, I did it!” he snarls, clutching at the wound in his thigh as he curls upright. “I’m the only one who possessed any ambition in this family, so I did what had to be done to clear the way for my own ascension to power.”

“But why Eliza?” Roman cuts in, appearing from the other end of the tunnel and advancing toward us. “She was just a child.”

“She was awoman,” my father scoffs. “Not arealheir. Not ason. She was nothing more than a nuisance. Always getting into trouble, then whining and sniveling when she was punished. And now look what she’s become.” He looks up at me, wrinkling his nose in distaste.

“An avenging angel,” Roman murmurs.

“Aqueen,” Knox declares.

My lips curve into a grin as I glance between my men, a fresh wave of confidence surging through me as I lift the blade. Then I look down at my father, right into his cruel, soulless eyes as I plunge it down into the center of his chest.

He cries out, but once I start, I can’t stop. The knife makes a squelching sound against his skin as I pull it back, then plunge it in again, blood spraying from his wounds, sullying his white dress shirt. With every swing of the blade, I recall a time he hurt me, paying it forward by inflicting pain on him as he has on me.

The life ebbs out of his eyes, his strained shouts for mercy quieting until he’s nothing but a bloody carcass on the floor. Ifinally stop stabbing at his chest, pulling the knife back one last time before my arms fall limply at my sides.

As I stare down at his lifeless body, it hits me that I should feel sorrow or remorse for ending my father’s life. Instead, all I feel is an overwhelming sense of relief that I’ve succeeded in vanquishing the true villain in my story.

I take a deep breath, releasing it as I push to stand. I spare him one last look, but I still can’t find it in me to feel guilt for what I’ve done. I’m surprisingly at peace.

Wiping the blade off on the skirt of my gown, I return it to the sheath in my thigh holster, rising to stand on shaky legs.

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