Page 37 of They Call Him Reaper

As I close the door to my old room, I breathe just a little easier. Walking on eggshells around Antoni is harder than just being alone. I lie on the bed staring at my phone like a way to communicate with Dante will somehow become obvious. A few swipes on the internet brings up a news article about our reunion. I don’t know when Antoni did that, but that might have been the signal to trigger Dante. I don’t know if anything is afoot, and because of that, I decide that I need to leave tonight. At least I know where I’m at and how to get back to society. This is delicate.

My yawn isn’t surprising since I really am tired. Tucking my phone under the pillow, I snuggle up under my cover and allow sleep to take over. I’ll think better when I’m not tired. I don’t know how long I was asleep, but my dream about Dante and me existing in a different, simpler time is interrupted when I’m jostled awake.

I shield my eyes from the bright light, but I’m still able to see Antoni leering at me with disgust. It takes a moment for me to realize what happened, but I now feel the air on my abdomen. When I try to pull my shirt down, he’s blocking that action.

“I fucking knew it. You’re a worthless slut, just like your mother.” The hatred on his face must have been the side of him that Dante saw all the time.

“What are you talking about?” I nearly yell. It’s the first time I’ve heard him refer to my mom as such.

The sting from his slap makes my face burn, and I grunt when he pushes my belly. “Don’t act fucking dumb. You’re a nurse; I know you know you’re pregnant.”

It’s been my thing and my secret this entire time, and I hate the way it’s said and out in the open. I don’t know how Dante will feel about it, but I’ve decided if I have to choose between him and the baby, I’ll choose the baby. Too many innocent lives have been fucked up in my world. It’s not important right now, because the baby and I must surviveFather.

He raises his hand again, but I curl into a fetal position to block his hit. Antoni drags me out of bed by my arm, and I yelp in pain when my knees hit the wooden floor. His men stand by, not caring that he has a pregnant woman-HIS Daughter-on the ground. He pulls my hair, forcing me to look up at him. He’s acting as if I betrayed him, although he’s never spoken to me about Dante. Never said to stay away from him. Never said anything negative to me, yet I’m supposed to know not to touch.

Besides, I just got out of captivity. He didn’t even bother to ask if I was raped. No benefit of the doubt is given, just abusive rage. Even knowing who he is to Dante, it’s still surprising that he’s treatingmelike this.

“He’s like a fucking parasite, and you laid there like a bitch in heat and allowed him fuck his poison into you.” He pushes me down to the ground. “Worthless.”

I push myself up on my knees. “I’ll just go then.” I hold in my tears. I don’t want to give him the satisfaction. I just want to protect my child. “I’ll get out of your sight.”

He uses the sole of his boot to kick me in the side.

“No!” he growls, then releases a string of insults and curses in Polish. “The only thing that’s leaving is that fucking rat inside of you. Then maybe I can see you as my daughter again.”

“No!” I yell. “The baby stays!”

Despite being in danger, I return all the vitriol in Polish. He has the nerve to look hurt when I call him a monster as I’m getting dragged out of my room.

TWENTY-FOUR

Dante

A nervous energythat I never feel flows through me. It could be because I know how Father truly is, and opening Inaya’s eyes to the truth places her in danger the longer she’s with him, or if my suspicions are high because I’ve gotten to the cabin entirely too easily. I’ve considered all angles for a set up and they haven’t been present. The woods surrounding the cabin are free of his disciples or any traps.

A few men hang around the front of the cabin, with a few more in the back. Sneaking up on the first, I wrap my hand around his mouth. I stab him in the lungs before he can do anything, and the pained gurgles ensure he can’t speak to warn anyone as he dies. He should blame Father; I wouldn’t be so precise if it weren’t for his training.

Most of the men outside meet their demise in similar ways. Knives are bloody but quiet, and I still need the element of surprise on my side. Even if Inaya isn’t in danger, Father will die. I don’t know how it’ll make her feel, but it’s been my goal, and no one is stopping it. Once inside, I move slowly, checking everything for a trigger or some sign of rigging. Still nothing. I pause for a moment. I’m perplexed. This isn’t like him. AlthoughI’m better at it, I got my attention to detail from him. As a person trained under him, the lack of security is weird for such a paranoid person. Either I’m not seeing the big picture, or he finally snapped.

My forward movement remains slow and as I scope everything out. I must remain diligent, just in case he’s banking on me dropping my guard. If he’s using Inaya as bait, he’ll be somewhere where I’d have to choose me or her. That would also be a gamble. He’d have to depend on me caring enough for his ultimatum work. He should know all about human variables. Sometimes we’ll work as expected and other times we’ll do the unexpected. It’s always a draw. Even though I knew I had the upper hand, I never allowed myself to underestimate Inaya when I had her.

Her scream prompts me to move faster. I know how cruel he can be; his actions will be a shock to her system. Two guys are near the door where I heard the scream, muffled voices argue on the other side. Hearing Inaya in distress makes my heart beat faster.

I sneak up behind the first guy and lodge my knife into the side of his neck. Reaching for my other knife, I throw it and hit the next one in the throat before he can do anything. He vomits blood and clutches at his throat before he falls. It reminds me how the news reported that the so-called serial killer “The Reaper” must have disappeared, or was caught for something else. I haven’t stopped killing yet.

Taking a moment, I look in the crack of the door. Father is in the room with my other tormentor, his personal doctor. If Father is at the top of my list, he’d be a close second. The old bastard is tying Inaya’s legs to the bed while Father holds her down. I know that room and that feeling all too well, but I don’t have time to visit the chill going down my spine or the sick feeling in mystomach. It’s not about my trauma right now. It’s about getting her out of here.Why in the fuck is he treating her like one of us?

“Please don’t do this,” she begs in Polish.

Maybe she thinks speaking to him in his mother tongue will get through to the psycho. Nothing but death will.

“Shut the fuck up before you die like your mother. I’m killing that child, even if you die with it. Dante’s bloodline ends with him.”

It takes all my training to be quiet, but the pain associated with this scene scalds every one of my molecules. He said we were sterile. Since I was fourteen, I believed I couldn’t reproduce. He’d hit me in the balls one way or another on different occasions. He caused testicular torsion once, and I had to get surgery. After I came off the anesthesia, he told me I’d never reproduce. I was a little sad to have my options taken away, but didn’t give him the satisfaction he sought.

How could I bring a child into the hell I knew? Why would I create another future puppet for Father? No, it was better that way. Or so I thought.

“It’s my baby,” she cries, bringing me back to the task at hand.

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