Page 51 of The Heart of a Villain

Part of me wants me to shut the laptop now, live in the illusions that only my uncles are part of this… whatever the hell it is, and my father is innocent. That, despite him seeming almost like the leader among them, his powerful presence and dominating traits do not mean he somehow might be… the one who holds all these things together.

However, Rush kidnapped me intending to punish my father.

And bait has value only when it means something to the one it was stolen from.

Although the little girl in me weeps at this, I go back, and then with my shaking hand, I click on the folder with Dad’s name on it, where a video awaits me.

Already suspecting what I might find here, I still press Play, and it’s a horror movie that’s my reality I can no longer hide from.

Because monsters roaming this earth made it impossible for me.

I cover my mouth with my hands while my heart beats so wildly in my chest it brings me pain so deep I wish to tear it away and drop it to the floor.

Maybe then the anguish destroying me from the inside would be less devastating.

A man is pinned to the wall with big nails peeking out of his hands and feet, while blood drips from his forehead and nose as he mumbles something. But my father only grins, as he slides his fingers over the knives spread on his table.

“What was that?” Dad prompts.

“Mercy, Lachlan. Please, mercy.”

My father pauses, anger flashing on his features, and then he grabs a silver blade glistening under the lamp and taps the tip before dipping it in some substance. “Mercy. What a foolish concept.” He spins around to face his victim, who barely holds his head upright and erupts into sobs when he sees the new weapon. “After all, mercy is a privilege of those who never knew pain. For if you lived in hell, you know you don’t get mercy for the shit you’ve done.”

“I changed. Please, Lachlan. I’m cured.”

A sinister and deadly expression settles on Dad’s face while he snarls in anger right before piercing the man with the blade—to my loud, terrified scream—and growls, “Men like you are incurable.”

I jump from the chair, shaking my head and whispering, “Dad, please don’t. Please, please don’t.” Tears stream down my cheeks while my father methodically pierces the man before popping his jaw and then reaching for the drill. “No. Daddy, please.” I step away as if it has the power to save me from seeing the inevitable blow. He checks the drill, the trrr-sound echoing through the space as the victim starts to thrash in his chains, almost ripping the skin from his hands trying to save himself. “Dad, please.” My back smacks against the wall as screams trap inside my chest while horror washes over me. “Please.”

But my father stays deaf to my pleas as he walks back up to the man and drills his dick to shreds, the victim’s agonized scream ringing in my ears as the blood splattering in every direction forever etches in my brain.

“Dad,” I cry, sobs shaking my entire form as I slowly slide down to the floor, my father continuing to do horrendous deeds to the man, keeping him alive and yet torturing him worse with every second.

A tight rope wraps around my neck, squeezing it so hard for a second I cannot inhale any oxygen, while tears flow from me as pain fills me to the brink, becoming almost unbearable. “Dad,” I whisper, crying into my hands and then fisting my hair so hard it’s a wonder I still have any left in my head. “Dad.”

Something inside me in this moment breaks, crushing into sharp pieces that draw blood and dump me into a whirlpool of agony and insanity.

Because my father… the one man I trusted above anyone else… the perfect man… is a murderer.

“Daddy! Will you read me a story?” I ask, bouncing on the bed in my new pink pajamas as he leans on the doorjamb.

“Isn’t it a bit late?” He glances at the clock and cocks his head to the side. “Mama told you to go to bed.”

“It will be our secret,” I whisper and then giggle as he grins at me. “Just one tiny little story.” I plunge onto the bed and reach for the thick book of fairy tales. Uncle Arson gifted it to me the other day. “My favorite one.”

Dad steps inside the room and throws his suit jacket off, then sits on the edge of the bed as I nestle in the crook of his arm. “Just one story won’t hurt. Which one?” I flip open the book and then quickly find the story, and it earns a laugh from him. “Beauty and the Beast?”

“Yes. It’s my favorite!” I tap on the book and sigh in wonder. “Love conquers all.” I look at him and frown when he doesn’t agree with me. “Right, Daddy?”

He runs his hand over my hair. “Some darkness cannot be cured with love, princess.” He tugs on my thick braid, and I giggle. “That’s why you should always fall in love with a prince.”

“Oh.” I rest my cheek on his shoulder. “I guess I will need to find a hero like you.” I hug him close while he exhales heavily. “Because there is no greater hero than you, Daddy!”

“If only that were true, Aileen. If only that were true.” Dad’s arm squeezes me tight. “Now, let’s start with this chapter. Once upon a time…”

Through the years, I always called my dad a hero because he could fix anything, protect me from everything, and would always be there while surrounding me with so much love I couldn’t imagine having a better father.

First steps, first ballet class, all graduations, and even sitting by me after my surgeries. Dad was present in all those moments, never missing a single thing in my life.

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