Page 188 of Broken Dreams

“We’ll be here,” Adira says, smiling. “The guys should be back soon. The last time they texted was an hour ago. Shit, I should go find my phone. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen it.”

I don’t even have one since I so rarely need it, so I chuckle as I leave the kitchen. My tablet is upstairs so I may go get it if Adira can’t find her phone, to see where the guys are. I expected dismantling the club would have taken a lot of time, so I’m surprised they’re already on their way back.

Opening the back door to the patio, I search for my mother, my steps taking me further out into the backyard. Fall is creeping in, making me shiver as a cold breeze blows through. Soon, I’ll need to wear more clothing to go out, and there’s a comfort in knowing I’ll have it.

No more freezing in thin, borrowed clothing that Bret provided, or leaving in the early hours of the morning to move to our next location. I’m home, here to stay.

I’m still wearing a knife on the back of my thigh, something that Christian insisted on and then wanted to drag me back tobed to cut my pajamas off. Linus thought it was hysterical and suggested pancakes should be on the agenda before knife play.

My lips freeze in a smile as I play out the memory in my mind, my gaze on my father as he holds a knife to my mother’s throat.

“Hello, daughter, how lovely of you to come join us,” he sneers.

Mom is pale, eyes wide with terror as she stands in front of him, my father’s arm banded around her stomach.

“I couldn’t stop myself from leaving,” she whispers. “Go back inside.”

“No!” he whisper-shouts at her. “You’re not in charge, you little slut. Did you think I wouldn’t hear about Bryce scent matching with you? I’ve done my damndest to keep everyone away from you. Poor, sad, little Ayla. Forever alone, because you’remine!”

“You can’t own people,” I rasp, swallowing hard. I’m trying to keep from being frozen in fear, knowing I’ll never be able to throw my knife at my father faster than he can slit Mom’s throat.

“I heard you were talking now,” he sniffs. “You’re useless to me, girl. Too old for Alpha Miles, and Bret isn’t returning my calls.”

“It’s hard to return phone calls when you’re dead,” I tell him.

There are intermittent lights in the trees, but I’m standing in a pool of darkness. I barely hear the thump of the weapon when it lands by my foot, but I can feel how cool it is when I brush against it.

I don’t want to confirm who my savior may be because it’s unimportant. I need to get myself out of this, and now I have the means to.

“Your time away has made you feral,” my father growls. “Get on the ground like the dog you are.”

The alpha bark folds my legs, the ground hard on my knees as I drop. My mother is gazing at me in horror, and an automatic light turns on so she can see my face. Reaching for the gun with my fingertips to bring it closer to me, I force myself to ignore her cry of pain as my father digs it into her sensitive skin.

“What are you going to do now that I’m here?” I ask him, my gaze on my mother. She seems to read something in my determined look, and there’s no fear in my tone. I’m not completely bluffing, I know I’m a good shot. I just need to know that she’ll be clear. “I don’t see that much has changed except that you’re exerting your power on others, as usual.”

“You’ve always had a mouth on you,” he complains.

“Hmm. Doubt that’ll change in your lifetime,” I state.

Mom begins to fight him, and my father curses as he pulls away the knife. He wants someone to hold over my head, he doesn’t actually want to hurt her himself. It’s an odd and very toxic relationship.

My father throws her on the ground, and I immediately raise the firearm, flicking off the safety and firing. And continue to fire. Over and over, I empty the entire fucking clip into his scheming body.

Never again,I whisper over and over in my mind. Never will he play with people’s lives again, never will he hurt another person.

Never, never, never!

“Quinn,” Christian says softly, his hand gentle as he touches my shoulder. “Check on your mom,mi amor.I’ll take the gun and make sure the old bastard is dead.”

Gasping out a sob, I blindly hand him the gun before scrambling to my mother. My father’s commands are no longer working, and I’m fairly certain the man is dead. I lost track of how many bullets I sunk into his body, my mind disassociating from the action.

Maybe it’ll help the nightmares…

“Mom,” I say, my hands moving over as she lays unmoving. “Mom!”

“I’m okay,” she says weakly, struggling to push herself up. “Bullets hurt, even when they’re not hitting you. Who knew?”

A hysterical laugh threatens to break free, showing me how not okay I am. I hug her tightly as Christian confirms that my father is dead, and Adira and Linus run outside to us.

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