Page 34 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

Dash gives up the play. “What’s going on?” he demands, casting his attention on the rest of the guys—Abel, Dean, and Braxton.

Dean answers him. “We asked you here because she wanted to meet with you,” he says.

“Me?” The corner of Dash’s mouth curves down. He faces me. “Why?”

“My name is MiKayla Michaels, Dash,” I begin. He swings his gaze back to me and his eyes narrow, “and I’ve asked your friends to bring you here because I need your help.”

“With what?”

“Your father.”

The air in the room drops a few degrees as Dash leans forward in his seat. “Dean, what the fuck is she talking about? What the hell is going on? Abel?” He glances at his friends, but Abel merely shakes his head.

“Just let her talk, man,” he says.

Any and all casualness and relaxation in him has evaporated. He glares at me, brows lowering over his face as his shoulders tense. For a split second, his eyes cut to the purple-haired girl—Rylie. I arch a brow. She subtly shakes her head and his attention returns to me.

“Something you want to say?” I offer.

He shakes his head. “Not sure what you’re referring to, but my father is his own man. If you’re after his business then take it up with him. I can’t help you.”

I offer him a slight smile. “I have no interest in the Bennington wealth and businesses,” I tell him. “Though if I do get what I want, you’ll likely have your hands full with them. What I want is something only your father can give me, and I can assure you that it will only benefit you in the end.”

“I doubt that,” Dash snaps. He slams back the drink in his fist and then drops the empty glass onto the table before practically leaping to his feet. “I don’t want anything to do with the bastard. Find someone else.”

At my side, I can feel Luc’s consideration. The intensity of his stare lingers on my face. Dash is testy. He’s feeling nervous, vulnerable. I get that. I understand it. I can sense it in the tremble of his fingers as he clenches and unclenches his fists. Dash moves, and tries to slip past me. I stop him with a quiet voice.

“Even if it means you’ll be able to get rid of the man who tortured you?” Silence meets that statement, but Dash’s presence doesn’t disappear. His body remains rigid alongside my chair so I press forward. “I’m not interested in hurting you, Dash,” I assure him. “I’m only interested in giving your father what he deserves.”

Dash turns and glares down at me. “And what do you know about what he deserves?” he spits.

“I know what you know, Dash.” I meet his gaze. “I knoweverythingabout what kind of man your father is. I know you’ve never told your friends even though they’d be more than happy to kill him for even less than the things he’s actually done. All you had to do was say the word. I also know why you haven’t. It’s because you’re ashamed.” I pause and try to calm the racing in my heart as his brows slowly move upward in shock. “And I also know that nothing he did to you was ever your fault and he doesn’t deserve your shame.”

Every painful disgusting kink. Every place he liked to cut and bruise. Even down to how long he could last with blood running down his dick from ripping my ass open. I can only imagine the things he did to his son to experiment before moving to prostitutes and whores like me. My insides clench as I force the memories back, but let the emotions that they evoke reign free in my eyes. Dash’s face goes slack. His brows finally drop and his lips part. He swallows roughly before turning to the rest of the group.

He focuses his attention on Abel. “Do you…” he begins before stopping. His chest rises and falls. His lips part again, but no more words escape.

“We have no idea what you two are referring to, man,” Abel answers him, his voice soft. It’s not hard to piece my words together and get an idea of what I mean. “But if he hurt you, fuck it. You know we’ll help. We’ll fuck him up. Just give us the word. She’s right—we’d do whatever it takes. All you have to do is give the command.”

Dash inhales sharply. “Fuck.” The curse slips out of his lips and he turns, practically stumbling back to his seat before sinking into it. A hand covers his face as he leans forward and scrubs it downward, tugging on his skin until he looks tired and haggard. The exact look of someone who realizes that their innermost secrets have been revealed.

If I could have spared him that, I would have. But if it means his father runs free in this world, then there’s no mercy I can offer.

“How much do you know?” Dash finally asks, his eyes on the floor.

“Your father is a very disturbed man, Dash,” I say quietly. “Unfortunately, rich men like him have room and authority to be disturbed. I can assume he hasn’t come to you in a long time, but you still remember everything, don’t you?”

No victim can ever truly forget.

Dash shakes his head as a breath shudders out of his chest. “Fuck no,” he mutters. “He hasn’t … I haven’t even … I moved out as soon as I hit eighteen. I don’t want anything to do with him.”

“I’d feel the same way if he were my father,” I agree.

Dash laughs, yet it’s anything but amused. He finally lifts his head and gives me a sardonic look. His twisted lips and narrowed eyes make me feel nothing but determination and sympathy. “So, what exactly is it that you want with me?” he demands. “What are you planning to do to him?”

I uncross my legs and lean forward. “I think it would be best if you didn’t ask those kinds of questions, Dash,” I tell him. “All I want from you is a lure.”

“A lure?” He scowls.

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