Page 79 of Among the Sins of my Father

“Are you hurt?” he asks, his eyes locking in on the blood over my dress and scanning me for any sign of damage. “Did you find Ette?”

“It’s Jericho,” I say breathlessly, then keep running down the stairs, expecting Barrett to follow.

When we reach Jericho and Ette, Hope is there, pressing against his wound and begging him to stay alive. Ette is at her side, hands covered in blood, eyes wide and somber.

“He wouldn’t stop bleeding,” Ette whimpers.

“What the fuck did you think you were doing leaving her all alone like that?” Hope yells at me.

I ignore her outburst, falling to the ground and cradling Jericho’s head in my lap as Barrett rips off his shirt and ties it around Jericho’s waist. Jericho moans as Barrett twists the knot tightly.

“It’s okay,” I croon, cradling his cheek in my palm. “We’re going to get you out of here. We’re going to get you help.”

“No hospital,” he grunts, his eyes flickering open and closed.

“I’m going to need both of you to help,” Barrett instructs, pushing me away and moving in place to loop his arms under Jericho’s. “Take a leg each. Ready?”

Hope and I both nod, bracing ourselves as we hoist Jericho between the three of us. Somehow, we manage to stumble through the house. Somehow, we manage to get him to the car. Somehow, we manage to heave him into the backseat.

I climb in after him, once again cradling his head in my lap. There’s a handprint in blood from the last time I did it and I try to wipe it away, letting the tears fall as I do so. Hope and Barrett are talking of security cameras and destroying footage and a missing guard. But I don’t care about any of that.

“Please don’t die,” I beg Jericho.

He doesn’t reply. At some stage of us moving him, he slipped into unconsciousness again. I lean down and press my lips to his forehead. His skin is hot. I push back the hair stuck to his skin.

“Please don’t die,” I whisper again.

Hope turns around in the front seat, Ette on her lap. It strikes me how not all that long ago the roles were so different. She was in the backseat with Jericho as we sped away and I was in the front, looking on with envy, even as my mind struggled against the horror I’d just witnessed.

It’s different this time. There’s no anxiety twisting in my gut. My mind isn’t filled with images of depravity. It isn’t focused on the dead bodies we’ve left in our wake. I’m not thinking about Mr Gorman, or Michael or any of the guards. All that consumes me is Jericho. And the desperation, the agony that’s rippling through me only confirms one thing.

I love him.

My tears fall to his cheek as his body is jostled and tossed by the movement of the car. Someone’s hand rests on my knee and I look up and into Hope’s eyes.

“Berkley?” she says quietly.

I blink back tears, trying to focus on her through the blurriness.

“I killed your father.”

chapter thirty

BERKLEY

The monster is dead. I wanted him dead. So why is there this heaviness inside me?

I’m leaning against the stained-glass window in Jericho’s room, watching the drops of rain slide down the glass. Even though I’m looking at the landscape, the darkening clouds of the sky, the gentle ripples on the water created by the rain, the slight sway of the trees, I don’t really see any of it.

Because my mind is stuck on him.

My father. The monster.

The moment the words had come from Hope’s mouth, something had overtaken me. Not joy or peace, like I thought. But an unbearable weight. A feeling of guilt, of responsibility.

We’d taken Jericho straight to the doctor’s house. He stitched up his wounds, placed his arm in a sling, given him medication, and then sent us on our way. He’s visited a few times since, checking in on his patient, but Jericho seems to be recovering well.

The only issue we’re having is keeping him in bed to aid his recovery. He’s a terrible patient. Grumpy and sullen. Snappish and demanding. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.

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