33. Alik

33

ALIK

M y car fishtails around the corner to the dirt road that leads to Creeper’s friend’s property.

I don’t know if she’s there or if she’s even alive, but my eyes stay trained on the road with an intensity like every second counts. Because it does.

What are they doing to her right now? What could I have prevented if only I’d gotten here sooner?

What if I’ve got it wrong, and I’m wasting time?

My mind burns with these thoughts, and I can feel Arthur in the passenger seat thinking the same. Fox and Zinovy are in an SUV behind us, medical supplies at the ready that I hope to God she won’t need. If she does, I’ll never forgive myself.

I should’ve gone to her weeks ago. I should’ve begged her for another chance, confessed to her all my sins, professed my unrelenting love that will keep me up every night until I see her again.

I didn’t know who I was before her, but now I feel as though, without her, I can never be me again. I need her. I don’t know if she needs me in her life emotionally, but right now, she needs my protection. If only I’d understood that sooner, she wouldn’t be in danger now. Creeper would’ve already been dead. Olive would be home, safe .

Please be alive .

The car slips on loose dirt, and I lose control for a moment but don’t dare slow down. I won’t chance Olive having any time to spare.

“There.” Arthur points to the house up ahead, and I gun it, my foot pressing the pedal to the floor until we’re almost to the driveway where I whip the car in. Zinovy and Fox pull in behind us while I slam the car into park and click the safety off my gun, my stare aimed at the vehicles parked in front of me, Creeper’s pickup among them.

She’s here.

Blood rushing through my ears, I cock my gun and throw open my door, turning my head to Arthur when he does the same.

“You’d better stay here,” I say to him.

He glares. “She’s my daughter.”

“Exactly.”

His lip curled, he pulls his own gun from the holster on his side and climbs from the car while I do the same. I’ve taken a step toward the run-down, yellow house when a car zooms up the driveway and screeches to a stop a few feet from me.

I raise my gun at the windshield, my muscles tense, but lower it when I recognize the green Camaro. Finn steps out of the car.

“You didn’t think I was going to let you have all the fun, did ya?” He winks, pulling out his gun and gripping it with both hands.

I pause only a moment to give him a thankful nod before I stomp up to the house, my brothers, Arthur, and Finn, behind me. It’s likely they know we’re here, so I don’t bother with stealth.

I want them to know I’m coming. I want them to know the suffering they’re about to face.

I throw open the screen door and jiggle the locked knob before kicking in the wooden front door. My gun swings around the empty living room, my ears immediately picking up the music coming from a room down a hall.

I swing that way and stalk toward it, my jaw clenched as I move down the hallway and through the entryway to a kitchen, my finger over the trigger, ready to fire.

Blood.

So much blood.

My stomach rises into my throat, and my heart stops at the sight. For just a moment, I think I may drop my gun, faint at the sight, the smell of the love of my life’s remains.

But then I see her.

My jaw unclenches, and my gun lowers as everyone floods into the kitchen, as ready as I was.

Olive stands with her back to us, a paring knife in her hand slicing away at the neck of a man like she’s trying to behead his corpse.

I blink as I look around at all the blood. Some is splattered like one would expect with a sliced artery, but some is smeared like she’s been painting in here. Two other bodies besides the corpse she’s working on are lying on the ground, one of them Creeper. He’s missing both his hands as well as his testicles, and his mouth is covered with blood. A bloodied blender is tipped over next to him like she made him drink something from it.

My friends, Arthur, and I stand in shocked silence, watching her. She snaps the last piece of connective tissue from the man’s neck then holds the head in her hands before shaking it over the table like a saltshaker.

I find the other limbs in the room, two of Creeper’s hands and all extremities of the last corpse. That’s how there’s so much blood. She’s emptying them out.

Vomit flies from Arthur’s mouth as he doubles over, and finally, Olive—or more likely, Olive 2.0—spins to face us, her eyes wide. Her head lulls as she passes out, and I dive forward to catch her head just before it hits the tile.

Finn goes to the counter to turn off the pop music.

“Umm, Alik,” Fox says, his voice almost frightened. “What the fuck?”

Olive stirs in my arms, her stunning, bluish-gray eyes fluttering at me. She clutches my arms as she tenses. “Alik,” she gasps.

When she goes to look around, I cover her eyes and bring her face to my chest, collecting her tears as well as her victims’ remains clinging to her cheek.

“You came,” she cries, like I’m her savior.

I hold her tight while roaming my gaze over the unhinged violence that took place here. “Of course I came.”

“I love you,” she says, pulling back to look me in the eyes. “I love you so much. I’m so sorry I left. I didn’t—” She shakes her head. “I don’t care about any of that stuff anymore.”

“Me either, baby,” I say, my lips curving into an uncertain smile. “I love you too. That’s all that matters.”

She relaxes against my chest, letting out a long sigh. It’s everything I’ve wanted for the past month. And once we’re out of here and the gore is cleaned off, I think we’ll enjoy it.

Her lips move, and she pulls back as she runs her tongue across her teeth. “What happened?”

When her head goes to turn, I bring her face back to my chest so she doesn’t have to see.

There are so many times when I’ve wished I had been honest with her. When I hated myself for my lies.

But I see her in my mind the night at the lake house. I see the pain in her eyes over the things she’s done, the things she’s woken up to.

Arthur’s presence is no longer at my back. I have a feeling he won’t be in her life after today, as long as she’s safe. She’ll wonder why. She’ll blame herself.

I’d rather she blamed me.

“Close your eyes, Olive,” I whisper, running my hand over her head. “I did some bad things.”