Page 151 of Sinister Legacy
ENDINGS AND NEW BEGINNINGS
With his hand hanging over the steering wheel, King peers through the windshield at the gloomy, red-brick building in front of us.
The Death House,as it’s called.
“I wish you would let me come in with you,” he murmurs before directing his brown eyes at me. “Let me be there for you.”
“I need to do this on my own,” I whisper through the lump in my throat. The day is here. My father is due to be executed in less than an hour. I’m not sure how I feel. Hurt, if the ache in my chest is anything to go by. I’m mostly numb, though, as if my mind has shut down to protect me.
Looking up through my lashes at the snowflakes melting on the windshield, I whisper, “Do you think that will be me one day? Strapped to a gurney?”
The leather seat creaks beneath his weight as he shifts his body to face me, his hand still hanging over the steering wheel. “You think I’d let anyone entrap you and cut your wings? Strap you to a gurney and pump your veins full of poison?” Sliding his hand from the wheel, he cups my chin and strokes his thumb over the swell of my bottom lip. “Never in a million fucking years.”
“They hunt monsters like me.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Breathing a soft, grateful sigh through my nose, I look back at the Death House. My father is in there. I wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. Is he scared or simply resigned to his fate?
Tears prick the backs of my eyes as I admit a truth of mine. “I’ll feel so lonely after this.” Looking back at King and the tic in his jaw, I continue, “I haven’t had a relationship with my dad for years, but at least I knew he was alive. After this… I’ll battle with my darkness alone.”
“You’re not alone. Never alone.”
Blinking rapidly, I wipe beneath my eyes. “I know that. I do. But my father… Whatever I am, whatever illness runs through my veins runs through his, too. We’re the same flesh and blood. After today, I’ll never be able to think to myself again, ‘At least my dad understands.’He won’t be here. I don’t want to turn into him.” My voice breaks, and I choke back a sob. “But I alreadyamhim.”
“Babe, no. You’re you—a beautiful, dangerous masterpiece. Don’t ever tell yourself that you’re not perfect. We all struggle with our own darkness. Sure, yours is a destructive force, but you’re still fucking perfect. You’re strong. Not weak. Instead of thinking of yourself like a soulless monster and a product of your father’s twisted legacy, remember that your dad fathered an apex predator.”
When I give him an incredulous look, he hurries to add, “Okay, that came out wrong. What I mean is that you’re stronger, more dangerous than anyone else in this town. It’s the survival of the fittest. Forget about humanity’s invented moral constructs for a second, and let’s look to science. You’re at the top of the food chain. Every once in a while, an animal is born with something different. Something that will carry that species forward. Maybe psychopaths or sociopaths, or whatever title you want to plaster on people like us, are evolving humanity. Maybe in the grander scheme of things, in the eyes of evolution, emotionsand empathyare weaknesses. Maybe we’re evolving to become less emotional.”
“I thought it was the other way around.”
“Does it matter?” he whispers, capturing my chin with his hand and bringing my eyes to his. “Does it matter, Keira? Are other people’s opinions of you so important that you’re willing to suppress yourself and your happiness to please others?”
“I don’t want to end up like my father.”
“And you won’t. Do you know why?” Leaning in, he captures my lip between his teeth before releasing it and whispering, “Because you’re not him. You’re something so much more powerful. You bring me to my fucking knees every day.”
I slide my fingers into the dark hair at the nape of his neck and crush my lips to his, sucking his tongue into my mouth. His blood rushes to the surface as I bite down and moan. I want to straddle his lap and lose myself in him. I want him to make the horror in front of us disappear.
Instead, I break the kiss and reach for the door handle. “Wait for me, King.”
His hand is back on the steering wheel while his other hand readjusts his hardening dick inside his jeans. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in?”
I want nothing more, but I need to face my own demons and do this alone. With a shake of my head, I open the door and step out into the chilly evening air. My boots sink into the snow as I push the door shut and look up at the imposing building. I’m sure the misery can be felt in the air. There’s something sinister lurking in the shadows, masquerading as justice.
While I’m driven by urges that can’t be leashed, urges that drive me to do unspeakable things, these righteous people commit murder in the name of the law. How they sleep at night is a mystery to me. I suppose it’s easy to reduce a human to a monster when you judge them by their sinful actions alone. Once you strip them of their humanity, it’s easy to justify your own heinous actions by telling yourself that you’re doling out justice.
But justice to whom? The victim’s families? What abouthisfamily? What about the people who love and care for him? Are they not humans? Or are we reduced to monstrous animals, too? I’m the one who’ll have to spend the rest of my life punished by my father’s actions. Besides, who will dole outmyjustice?
Oh, right. That would be me.
The vengeful daughter.
The orphaned killer.
These are the toxic thoughts swirling in my head as I pull my new blue-and-white plaid teddy jacket tighter around me and walk through the crunchy snow toward the entrance with my head ducked to hide my face from the paparazzi. They’re frothing at the mouth to get the money shot. It’s not every day the country executes one of its most hated serial killers.
I can feel how tense King is even from here as the cameras flash and reporters shout questions at me from behind the barrier. I hurry past, my eyes burning with tears. This all feels so fucking wrong. My father is about to die, and these people care about their payout. They don’t care that I’m about to witness my father die or about all of my regrets for not reaching out sooner. For letting my own sense of pride and hurt keep me from seeing the man behind the heinous crimes.
