Page 98 of Ruthless Keeper
Before I can regain my bearings, a bone-chilling voice whispers, “Hello,daughter.”
And the nightmare I’ve spent years running fromignites.
Dad’s hand tangles into my hair, wrenching my head back. I hadn’t evenheardhim come up behind me, but then, he was always a quiet man… until it was time to get loud. That’s when he was able to bring entire armies to his knees with his voice alone.
There’s no need for him to be loud now. No need for any threat beyond the barrel of a gun he presses to my temple as he drags me from behind the desk. I fight to the best of my waning abilities, but he swiftly subdues me and wrestles an arm around my throat.
“You’re supposed to bedead,” he hisses quietly in his gritty, cruel voice. “Several times over, now. The death you faked shortly after your escape wasso convincing… and then, what do you know. A cockroach from the Nighthawks calls and tells me you’re still alive.”
“Father—”
He slams the butt of his gun on the crown of my head, dazing me, and telling me to be silent the way he always would in my youth. There were never any warnings with him—only actions reminding everyone in his vicinity to obey his commands, both spoken and unspoken.
I fall forward, but before I can faceplant, he yanks me back by my hair again. I moan at the pain inside my skull and outside of it—the pounding, roaring headache, the nausea, and the stinging tug of my hair nearly being torn from the roots.
The weakness and lethargy is setting in. I’m positive I have a concussion.
I don’t think I have any strength left to fight him with.
“I thought the cockroach would kill you and spare me the effort,” Father goes on. “But you have more of your mother in you than I assumed. Do you know how many times I came close to killing her… but couldn’t?” He chuckles. “Ultimately, the ungrateful children she gave me led to her death. So I haveyouto thank for finally breaking her hold on me and allowing me to exterminate her, once and for all. Thank you for that, Scarlett. It’s the only good thing youoryour brother haveeverdone for me.”
He pauses, running the gun down my temple, across my cheek, and positioning it under my chin. Tears stream freely from my eyes.
This is it.
I know it in my bones. I survived long enough to kill Luther’s bastard second, and that’s all I had in me. My father was right all the times he’d call me weak… but ultimately, I didn’t prove entirely useless.
If Greyson’s still alive, I at least took out one man for him.God,he has to be alive. Even if I die, hehas to live. I can’t stomach the thought of his death… I can’t bear to lose another person I love.
“You’re thinking of the man you enslaved with what little charm you got from your mother,” Father whispers. “He’s probably dead. And if he isn’t, I’ll drag him by his hair up here so he can see your corpse before I put a bullet in his brain.” A cruel laugh escapes him. “Maybe I’ll keep him alive long enough to skin him. See how long it takes before his heart gives out. How far do you think I’ll get, dear daughter? I always start from the bottom… the feet. Then the legs. Most die before I get to their torso, but Greyson Blackwell,” he chuckles again. “I think that cunt might survive out of spite. That’s alright—it’ll give me more time to have fun with him, and Iwillhave fun.” His tone goes flat. “The two of you have made quite a mess of things. I have alotof anger to work out… and I’ll start with this.” He cocks the gun.
A loud thud sounds from the apartment, and I turn my head just in time to seeGreysonrushing into the room. My heart drops into mystomach as Dad’s gun disappears from beneath my chin, and my father takes aim at the man I’m in love with.
I slam the full force of my body into his legs, souring his aim, but the shot he fires off still makes Greyson jerk. It doesn’t stop my Monster, though. He charges forward like a bull running at a flag. Dad shoves me aside; I take the third hit to my head as it slams to the floor; Dad fires another shot point-blank just as Greyson slams into him and takes both of them to the ground with a resounding roar.
My eyes flutter as I watch them start to grapple, but the motions are blurry. I can barely see, and I can barely hear over the ringing in my ears.
IknowI need to move. Greyson’s been shot,twice, while my dad remains uninjured. Ihaveto fucking move, but my body won’t comply.
My vision sharpens as Dad rolls on top of Greyson, wrapping his hands around Greyson’s neck and squeezing.
I have to move.
Greyson’s face turns red. Then, it slowly darkens to purple. His hands fall limply to his sides, swaying on the ground—no.Not swaying,reachingfor something.
There’s a gun two feet away from his hand. Just out of my reach.
I have to fucking move, or we’re both dead.
I muster the mental and physical fortitude that I didn’t know I had. I pull on the sheer hatred I have for my father, and the clawing fear of Greyson dying in front of me, and I force my body to comply.
Dad’s too lost in his rage to see me push to my hands and knees. He’s too far gone to notice as I crawl forward, inch by painstakingly-slow inch, and reach for the gun.
My hand closes around the cool grip, and I use both hands to lift it and aim it. It feels like it weighs a thousand pounds, but I manage.
My index finger shifts to rest on the cold trigger.
I don’t waste time or give my body the chance to fail. I fire a shot into my father’s back. The kick of the gun sends me back to the floor, but it also sends my father rolling off Greyson with an animalistic shout of pain.
