Page 26 of Never Die for a Sinner
“Hope you sleep well.”
I blink, staring at him and trying to piece together whatthatmeans because it’s absolutely terrifying.
He’s just trying to scare me, but I’m not willing to be manipulated.
So, I plaster my sweetest, fakest smile on my lips, clutch my water tighter, and spin on my heel, even though I know he’s looking at my ass.
And just because I know he hates it, “Goodnight,Mr.Cross.”
LEVI
The house is quiet as I slip through the back door. It’s three in the morning, and my family is asleep. They don’t even know I’m here as I step up the stairs to the second story.
It’s been three weeks since I left, and every day, I’ve been quietly plotting. Stewing.
Making my way upstairs, I pass my sister’s room, then Ava’s. Finally, I pass Paulina’s, and the room at the end of the hall beckons to me like an old friend.
Like it knows why I’m here.
The machines around the four-post bed in the center of the room ring quietly in the night. It smells like a hospital past the door, and my chest fills with disgust. I’ve always hated the scent.
He’s asleep in his bed, but when I rip the cord keeping the machines on out of the wall, it only takes a moment before his eyes open. He reaches for the oxygen tube in his nose, confusion on his face.
“It won’t work,” I say from the shadows, and his eyes go wide as I step into the moonlight. He stares at me in shock, and I grin.
I’ve been waiting for this day all my life. How many times have I envisioned what it would be like to put a bullet in his head?
Now that we know he kept my brother locked away and alive, knowing that he murdered my mother, there’s nothing that could stop me. Knowing that the longer he’s alive, under the same roof asher. . . well . . . I just can’t let that slide.
He opens his mouth to speak, but without his precious oxygen tube, nothing comes out but a raspy breath. Stepping forward, I grab a spare oxygen tube from the end of the bed, wrapping it in my hands while I approach.
“Christian wants you to suffer. Tomorrow, you would have been moved to a new facility where you’d probably be kept alive for another few months.” I shrug. “I think that’s too kind.”
And then I lunge for him. We struggle, but I’m bigger than him now. Stronger. Wrapping the tube around his throat, I pull it tight until it’s cutting off what little oxygen he can get.
“Le—”
“Shhh . . .” I tighten my hold on the tube, silencing the sound of his gurgling cough, begging for air.
It won’t come, though.
It’s time for us to move on. Be a family.
Looming over him in the darkness, his eyes are wide with fear and pain.
Good. Now he’ll finally know what it feels like to wonder if you’re going to die or not.
He struggles feebly underneath me, his bony hands clawing at my wrists to pry me off, but it’s no use.
“I always liked Mom better,” I murmur, though I’m not even sure he hears me. His hands fall away from mine to the bed with a thud, his eyes glazing over. I listen to the sound of his wheezing breath until it fades, and even then, I don’t let go.
I won’t stop until he’s dead.
When I’m sure he’s gone, I release my hold, cracking my knuckles in the silence of the room. The machines keeping him alive start to beep frantically, and I take that as my cue to leave.
I move to stand, only something catches my eye. When I step back, the body isn’t my father’s.
No, this is much, much worse.
