Page 83 of Colton
She nods slowly, blinking hard. “I will be,” she replies, her voice strained. “But...we need to finish this.”
I take a deep breath, steadying myself. She’s right. We need to end this. For her. Sophia. My mother. For everyone Xavier has hurt.
“He’s right,” Luella says quietly, “about one thing. Youwerethere. You saw it happen.” Her voice cracks, and for a moment, I’m afraid she’s going to break down. But then, she straightens, her gaze hardening. “And now, you watch him die.”
Xavier scoffs. “My men will be down here any minute, and when they do, I’m going to fuck your?—”
Luella walks forward, cutting him off. She shoves the gun between his legs and pulls the trigger.
I wince as my father screams, but then Luella’s face splits into a grin so wide, I can’t help but smile. She is so beautiful when she’s happy.
“That’s for my sister.”
I catch the slightest tremor in her hand just before her fingers press down. Her breath is shallow, her eyes glistening, and I realize that behind her rage is a girl who just wants the pain to stop. For her, for her sister, for us. Then she plunges her fingers deep into his wound, gripping what flesh she can, twisting and clawing at it until my father passes out, a brief relief from the pain.
But Luella doesn’t accept that.
She grips his cheeks, shaking his head and slapping him until he wakes up, dazed and confused. Then he starts screaming again.
“Just fucking kill me!” he screeches, blood pooling between his legs.
“How many times have women begged you for death, Xavier? How many times have you granted it?” Luella sings, leaning down to drag her finger through his blood. “Still warm,” she remarks softly, lifting it to her nose. “It smells like death, Xavier.”
His eyes roll back in his head as she dips her hand into the wound, her fingers coated in the near-black liquid. She drags her fingers down her cheeks and laughs, inhaling deeply as she paints herself in revenge.
I’m transfixed, unable to take my eyes off her.
“You like the smell of death, Xavier? You’re about to smell a whole lot more of it.” She dips her fingers again and spreads the blood across his lips, a sick joke of a kiss. “There,” she whispers. “Now you’re ready.”
Luella looks at me, her eyes shining with pain and fierce determination. “You don’t have to watch this.” Her voice falters, a crack in her armor. She’s thinking about me in this moment—me. But she doesn’t understand. I’ve been waiting for this more than I’ve waited for anything in my life.
She’s unreal. She is thinking of me seeing my father die, and I couldn’t give a flying fuck. I want to watch him die. I should have done this myself years ago, but no, I was controlled. A fucking puppet.
“I have front-row seats.” My voice is low.“This is your reckoning, and I want to witness every second.”
Kill him. I don’t care.
Because I don’t, not after everything he has done; he deserves to die like this, at the hands of a woman he hurt. He stole her sister, her dignity, her soul. He deserves to pay with his.
Luella tilts her head and looks at me. “I need a knife.”
My father is already bleeding out, but the fear in his eyes makes me relax.
“What are you going to do, you stupid bitch? You’re the same as your sister, a fuckingholeto use.”
I head over to the table where the torture instruments are held, listening to him spouting vitriol at my woman. My rage knows no bounds, and then the voices start, and I have to remember who owns his life.
It’s not me, it’s Luella.
I pick up the sharpest knife I find, then glance at the clamp beside it with a grin.
“May I?” I ask, turning to show Luella the two objects I’m holding.
My ears ring with the voices, and Luella nods, her eyes sparkling with excitement. She isn’t just after revenge—this girl has bloodlust. My dick hardens at the very thought.
I stride over to my father and roughly open his jaw, inserting the clamp to keep his mouth open. He struggles against it, his eyes wide with terror, but it’s useless. I tighten the clamp until I capture his tongue, staring into his eyes as I yank it as far as I can out of his mouth.
He screams, and I slice into his tongue, taking my time. His howls of agony are music to my ears, and I watch as the final slice severs his tongue from his body; I throw it to the floor with disgust. The fucking venom that came from that thing.
