Page 74 of Forget Me Not

Once I’m at the door, I take a deep breath and slowly push it open. The hinges creak and a wall of smoke wafts out. I refrain from choking on it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of a single reaction.

Grayson’s silhouette is cast in an eerie light from a lantern on the desk and he's hiding behind the glow of an orange ember, as I suspected. His dark, emotionless eyes lift and he looks at me, though he can't really see me. I'm clad from head to toe in black, with a ski mask hiding my face.

"Who the hell are you?" he grumbles as he snubs his cigar in the metal ashtray. The moon casts an eerie glow of light around us.

“Hi, Dad,” I quip, crossing the room to where he’s sitting behind the desk.

His eyes widen in surprise at my greeting and it’s apparent he wasn’t expecting me anytime soon. “No. It can’t be. Rhea?”

“Surprised to see me?” I take out the hunting knife I brought with me.

“I can’t see you. Take off the mask. Let me see your beautiful face.” He goes to stand but I push him back down in the chair, holding a firm hand on his shoulder. I hold the leather-clad knife to his neck in warning.

“No,” I tell him. “You haven’t earned the right to see my face and I have no intention of wasting another breath talking to you.”

My fingers drag across the leather as I slide the knife out, exposing the freshly sharpened blade. It reflects the moonlight and I feel a sense of rightness in my chest.

“Wha—what are you doing?” His voice is thick and raspy and laced with a fear that has my adrenaline pumping fiercely. He deserves this, he deserves so much worse but this is all I’m capable of right now.

Stepping behind him, I wrap one arm around his neck in a tight bear hug. “You thought you could steal my future and give it to a stranger? Well, now I'm going to steal yours and send you to hell.”

I’m not a trained killer, but as my arm helps to pull up his head, thoroughly exposing his neck to me, I reflect on all of the struggles Mom endured because of this man. She was terrified of him. Then I think about all of the nights we went without food while this man stuffed his face in his ivory tower.

Flashes of every painful memory come right to the surface because they are all his fault. If he could have just been a decent human being and loved his daughter and wife I could have grown up happy, loved, fed. Instead, my reality has been hell. So it’s only fitting that I see to it that’s his reality too.

Grasping the hilt of the knife, I press the cold metal blade against his pale throat. He lets out a strangled gurgle, struggling to breathe as I drag it slowly, delivering him only a slice of the pain that was my life. Warm liquid hits my arm as I make the final life-ending cut to his jugular. Blood begins to pool across his neck, trickling down to his desk and dripping to the floor.

Eyes wide and vacant, his head lolls back, revealing the gaping wound on his throat. Blood gushes from the jagged edges of flesh and my stomach curls at the sight.

I turn and sprint out the open door, fighting to keep down whatever wants to come up. As I mentioned, I don’t do this often, so my response is much less put together than I would have preferred, but I keep my head on straight. With the knife still clutched in my hand, I race out of the house, leaving a trail of bloody footprints.

The only advantage to leaving a trail of evidence is that it will only confuse people in the end. My small footprints will look as if a child were here and snuck past all this security all on their own..

Once I'm outside, I go around the house and retrieve the bag I left there, forcing myself to keep choking down the wave of nausea that hits me. I take my shoes off and put another pair I brought on and I stuff the bloody ones in the bag, along with the knife and my blood-soaked black jacket.

The sound of leaves crunching has my gaze shooting to the edge of the woods.

I have to get the hell out of here. Running frantically, I don't stop until I'm off Grayson's property. Even then, my feet move quickly. As if my body is forcing itself into a state of panic and shock all at once.

When I approach the ride-share car that's waiting for me, I slow my pace and peel off the ski mask.

Act cool, Rhea. You've got this. The unknowing driver gets out and opens the door for me with a greeting of some sort that I can't process right now. I simply nod and get in the back seat of the car, telling him to take me to the nearest bus station. Once I get there, I'll dispose of the bag, leave this town, and never look back.

The contract should be void. I should be free.

Little did I know how wrong I was, that I only made things more complicated for myself. Maybe if I had stayed and talked to him, I could have gotten him to drop the contract. Maybe if he saw how much of an asset I could be, he would have chosen me over the stupid deal he made.

But those are all what-ifs. Dreams someone like me doesn’t have the luxury of even thinking about.

I just don’t understand how Alaric can be so forgiving. I killed a good friend of his. Does he really love me enough to let that slide so easily?

What if he doesn’t love me at all? What if this is all an act of revenge for taking Grayson’s life and destroying what could have been one of the greatest mergers in the history of time. Okay, that’s a little far-fetched, but it sounds like a really big deal.

And I blew that deal to hell.

ChapterTwenty-Four

RHEA

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