Page 91 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

As if he’s a shark sensing blood, he jerks his head up and bares his teeth at me. Despite the pain creasing his brow, darkening his already tightened features, he reacts like a caged, wounded animal. I growl and without realizing I’ve made the decision, I rear back and kick him. My shoe connects with the side of his jaw, sending him sprawling on the floor, towards the open window.

The mist of the rain slaps me in the face. My chest moves up and down, pumping harder, faster. Suddenly, it feels like all of the air has been sucked out of the room. I can’t fucking breathe.

“There isn’t enough money in the world to save you now,” I manage to grit out. “Even if there was, though, you’re a cheap bastard.” After all, why else would he keep an indebted teenager to service him and his needs instead of keeping an escort? Why would he sell me out to his rich perverted business friends for extra cash? The answer: because he wanted to. With as much money as this man has, he neverneededme. He merelywantedme.

It’s easy to make slavery come back to life in the modern world if you have enough money. There’s paperwork to be done. People to bribe. False insanity to be accused. A conservatorship and presto. One perfectly sane, but legally-aged woman gets passed around andsoldto the entire realm of corrupt businessmen.

I press my palm to my face, wiping away the rain that drips into my eyes. I feel cold and hot all at the same time. My fingers are covered in an invisible frost while my face is on fire.

I drop my hand from my face and look down on the monster that started this entire thing. “You’re not getting out of it that easily,” I tell him. “You’re going to pay for your actions.”

“Actions…” He glares up at me and I watch the proceeding of confusion, shock, and then, unsurprisingly, rage flow over him. “I gave you a fucking place to live, you ungrateful little bitch!” he screams. “I took in a worthless orphan like you after your fucking loose cunt of a mother died—”

“And how did that happen!” I scream, cutting him off.

“What?”

My upper lip curls back and I step forward, planting my foot on the center of his chest and pushing down until he’s flat on the ground. “How. Did. My. Mother. Die?” I demand, each word yanked from my throat like glass from a wound, ripping up through me, damaging my insides as they make their way out.

“Sh-she was sick,” he snaps “The drugs—she was addicted and—”

“I wonder where a poor woman got those expensive drugs.” The sarcasm in my tone is a living, breathing, palpable thing. “But you were more careful with me, weren’t you?” I ask. “You didn’t want me dying as quickly. You learned your lesson the first time.”

That was where he fucked up with my mother. He took things too far. Instead of giving me the hard shit, it was always just a little something to take the edge off. Never enough to turn me into a drooling, compliant mess who couldn’t remember her own name much less whose dick was stuck up her cunt. Sometimes, I wish he’d taken it too far with me too. At least then the memories wouldn’t be so fucking present. At least then I could pretend they were terrible nightmares instead of a terrible reality.

Anger burns inside of me. I feel my greed take over. Not greed for his money but greed for his suffering. This disgusting monster of a man has held control over me for so long, having him here, underneath me—undermycontrol—feels like a dream, and I hate that. I want to feel every visceral inch of this reality. I want to know that when I kill him, there will be no coming back. No waking up from his nightmare. It’s going to last forever.

Blood-soaked fingers lock onto my ankle and jerk. Shock hits me a split second before the ground does. Too close. Fuck, I got too confident. My cheek slaps the floor and the ricochet of my head off the floorboards breaks something loose inside of me. The gun goes flying, sliding out of my grasp and in the background, I hear Luc shout as Thomas drops down over me, his hands going for my throat.

He clamps down and grins at me. “Just like old times,” he taunts.

Luc’s roar pierces my ears, so fucking loud it damn near rattles the remaining windows and glass all around the room. He appears like a dark wraith behind Thomas, gripping onto him and ripping him away. Thomas’ hands don’t release me immediately and for the moment just before he lets go, he pulls me with him, dragging me up by the throat as once again, Luc body slams him into the ground, falling over him as his fists go flying.

“Luc!” I scream. “Luc, stop!” Not like this. I didn’t want it like this. I don’t want him to kill his father. Not before I can.

I scramble up onto my hands and knees, eyes scanning the ground. The gun. Where the fuck did the gun—there! I dive for the glint of metal under Thomas’ desk, ripping it up and turning, back pressed to the floor and legs splayed as I take another shot.

More glass shatters and Luc curses, hissing foul words out between his teeth as his face tightens in pain when Thomas flings him to the floor. How, I don’t know. It shouldn’t be possible—not with how many wounds he has. Yet, still, I watch with horror as he grabs onto the back of Luc’s head, ripping him up by his hair and then locking his forearm around his throat as he drags him backwards. Right towards the open window.

Panic fills me. “No!” The scream of denial leaves my lips raw and begging. I don’t care if I sound as terrified as I am. I can’t lose Luc. Everything else, fine. But not Luc. Anything but him.

“Do it, Mikayla!” Thomas yells. “Kill me and you kill him too!”

My knee hits the floor as I push up, standing, even as my legs tremble beneath me. “Let him go, Thomas.”

“Micki—” Luc’s voice is cut off as Thomas yanks him sideways.

Luc’s nostrils flare as he tries to maintain his expression, but I can tell he’s in agony. The skin around his mouth is paler and drawn tight, his brow his puckered, and every time he parts his lips, his teeth flash white as they clamp together. He grips onto his father’s forearm with one hand, growling low in his throat, even as his other goes behind him.Please, please,I beg silently.Please have a plan, Luc.

My chest is caving in. Fear like I’ve never known before is spreading through my head, fogging up all other thoughts.

“Go on,” Thomas continues, his eyes wild as he stands there—the rain and open air at his back. “But if you shoot, you better shoot to kill.”

“Micki.” Luc calls my name and my attention falls to him. Blood drips down over his mouth and chin from one nostril. It flares briefly as he meets my gaze. “Take the shot.”

“You heard him,Micki,” Thomas says, shaking Luc slightly. He’s never called me ‘Micki,’ but now it’s a derisive jab, twisting his lips into a sneer. “Take the shot.”

What if I miss, though? What if I’m off?

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