Page 4 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

My skin goes ice cold. My mind tries to rebel, but it’s no use. There’s a wealth of information in that one statement. Notherdebt, butthedebt. Death doesn’t erase his intentions, it merely switches the object of his focus.

With numb fingers, I set the documents back onto the edge of his desk. “No.” It’s the only word I say, but speaking it aloud changes everything.

Thomas Kincaid is probably not a man who’s ever been toldnobefore and I’m sure I’m the first one—the only one who’s stupid enough—to say it. I don’t care. I can’t … I won’t do what she did.

“If it’s now my responsibility to pay you back,” I say. “I’ll do it another way.”

Thomas sets his elbows on the surface of his desk and steeples his fingers together, letting his chin drop into the resting place they provide. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice, MiKayla.”

“I didn’t sign anything,” I remind him.

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. I’ve never understood why I don’t like the man. He’s never been anything but distant with me. There was always just a sensation that I shouldn’t go near him, that I should do everything in my power to not draw his attention, and now … beyond anything in my control, I have and I can’t turn it away.

“I’m afraid that, for your sake, MiKayla, it would be prudent for you to understand your current circumstances,” he says. His voice is quiet but firm.

“Don’t threaten me with foster care,” I snap. “I’m well aware that I—”

“Oh, no,” he says, stopping me. “You won’t be going into foster care, MiKayla.” I want to tell him to stop saying my name. I hate the way it comes out of his mouth. Like he’s staking a claim to something he should have no right to. “As of one week ago, your guardianship was transferred to me. You should be thanking me, really. You’ll be well provided for and you’ll have everything you want—of course, your living expenses will be added to your debt—but if you follow my rules, then everything will work out.”

“I’m sixteen,” I say numbly. “I can be emancipated.”

Thomas chuckles. “I understand that you’re a very smart girl, sweetheart,” he replies. “Did you really think I hadn’t considered that?” He lowers his fingers and reaches into another folder sitting to the side of his desk. “I’d hoped you would be convinced to agree without this, but I’m glad I had it prepared just in case.”

My whole body locks up as he slides the new papers toward me. I don’t want to pick them up. I’m fucking terrified too, but curiosity and the deep-seated desire to know what the hell makes him so confident has me reaching for them.

As I read the lines of printed words, the numbness returns, and tears prick at my eyes. Horror dawns. “No…” I shake my head, standing abruptly. “This is fake!” I throw the papers back onto his desk. “You—you fucking monster! I’m not—” I can’t breathe. All of the oxygen in my lungs has disappeared. I turn away from him and bolt for the door.

My fingers slip on the handle as I hear him get up from his desk chair. “MiKayla.” I find my grasp again and yank against the door, only to find it locked. I stare at the solid wood. This isn’t happening.

I turn, placing my back against it. “I’m not crazy.” I spit the words at him. “Those documents, they’re not real. You fucking doctored them!”

“Of course I did,” Thomas says, shocking me with his easy agreement.

“Why?” I demand, crossing my arms over my chest. I’m shaking, fucking trembling, and I can’t stop it. I hate it. I must look like prey to him, vulnerable and scared. I hate it even more because he’s right. That’s exactly what I am.

“I need you to understand where you are, MiKayla,” Thomas states as he steps in front of me. “I can make anything real. I can make your debt go away; all you need to do is please me. It won’t be such a hard life. Your mother enjoyed it.”

“You didn’t let me see her.” The words come out before I can stop them.

“She was having fun,” he says. Lie. It’s a lie. It has to be.

“She was sick!” I snap. “That’s what you told me. She would’ve wanted to see me if she was sick!”

“No one thought it would be as bad as it was,” he replies. “Come now, MiKayla…” I jerk when he reaches for me and his hand pauses midair. A dark cloud appears over his expression. His look of understanding diminishes and in its place, irritation rises.

“Why would you make those fake claims about me?” I demand, but already I know the answer.

Control. That’s all he’s ever wanted.

Those documents—the papers that I’d read—they depict me as agoraphobic, introverted, and deeply disturbed. Unable to care for myself and certifiably insane. It had a doctor’s signature—a real doctor? Probably. He’s proven thus far that his claims are true. He can make anything real.

“I am your guardian, MiKayla,” Thomas reminds me. “You know well enough the kind of power I wield. I can make your life very difficult if I want to.”

I shake my head again. Luc would never let this happen. He won’t—a hand comes down against the door next to my head, interrupting my thoughts. “It’s very simple, sweetheart,” Thomas breathes into my face and I wince. His other hand comes up and cups my cheek.

It’s then that I realize why I’ve always avoided him. When my eyes lift to meet his, and I find myself searching for some sense of humanity in him, I come up empty. There is no warmth in his gaze. Only the cold absence of compassion. A snake who’s got his victim right where he wants her.

“You might have thought you had a chance with my son, MiKayla Michaels.” My heart stops. “But not anymore. From this moment on, I’m your owner. Do you understand me?” His fingers against my cheek turn into an iron grip as he holds me tighter, squeezing until my jaw aches.“I. Own. You. Mikayla Michaels. Body and soul.”

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