Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty Charles

I fidgetwith the earpiece Scar gave me. It’s foreign and uncomfortable, nothing like a headphone as she claimed. It feels far more invasive.

“Stop messing with it, Charles” she snaps and I startle at her voice. “We can all hear every time you fucking tap it.”

I wince as I sit in my father’s office. “Sorry.” This whole thing is just setting my nerves on edge. My father should be finishing his meeting any moment now and it will only be about fifteen minutes before he walks through the front door. I don’t know what to expect. From him or from the others.

“Bernard is on the move,” a male voice says. Ian, I’m pretty sure.

A female voice adds, “He just came flying to his car, white as a ghost.” Jade; I do remember her. She sounds amused by her observation.

“No movement from Schroder yet,” another female voice says. That’s Rachel; she’s the one who was talking to me at the party. It still baffles me how many people Scar has in her corner now. Not just employees, but friends. Family. Making all of this run a lot smoother with less anxiety than if we had to pay people to be our eyes and ears. We don’t have to stress about any of them turning their backs on us or switching to the other side for a paycheck.

“Sending the text now,” responds Noah. He scares me a little bit. Not in the same way as the others, but I’m fairly positive it would be impossible to keep a secret from him. He probably knew I was gay even before we told them all. I wouldn’t put it past him to have a list of my exes. Hell, even my browser history. Nothing is safe with him around.

I sit behind my father’s desk and pull up the cameras from around the property. I click through each view to make sure I know where each and every security guard is. “All security except for my own has been cleared out.”

“Taking control of the feeds now,” Noah says and I sit back. He’s already walked me through how to download everything off of this computer and I slip the USB into my pocket for safekeeping. Who knows what other criminals they’ll be able to find with this? “Okay, cameras are disabled,” he adds a few moments later. “Deleting the last four months of footage. As far as anyone is concerned they stopped working and your father just never bothered to have them fixed.”

“Got it,” I agree.

“Here Schroder comes,” Rachel confirms.

“Also white as a ghost,” the other male voice laughs. I’m fairly sure his name is Holden, but I’ve hardly had any conversations with him.

As if on cue, my phone begins ringing. “Hello, Father,” I answer.

There’s an unfamiliar lilt in his voice as all his words rush together. “You really found her? I saw the photos and the resemblance is uncanny.” He laughs, an unhinged sound. “You really found her. Don’t touch her. Come home now and bring me everything you have on the girl.”

My teeth sink into my bottom lip in disgust. It’s hard to not respond the way I really want to. But I know this way is better. It’s the right thing to do. String him along. Just a little longer.

“I’m already at the estate, Sir. I have a file for you.”

He hangs up without another word. I fall back into the seat and wait. Any minute now.

My phone beeps with security letting me know Dean Bernard just pulled in through the gates. They already know to have him pull through to the back to keep his car out of sight when my father arrives.

“Bernard is here,” I say even though they should all already know. They are just outside the gates, ready and waiting to come in at my signal.

“Keep calm, Charles,” Scar soothes. She must hear the nerves in my voice. “We’re right here and we have your back.”

“I know,” I answer, a small smile spreading across my face at the determination in her voice. She has more strength in her pinky finger than most people have in their whole bodies. Me included. Her reassurance lets me borrow just a little bit of hers though. Enough to feel confident I’ll be able to get through this. One way or another.

The Dean doesn’t seem to have any trouble finding his way to the office. I instructed security to just let him in and point him in the right direction. Has he ever been here before? His eyes are shifty and nervous as he enters the room. Surprise and apprehension cross his face as soon as he sees me sitting here.

“Hello, Dean. My father is on his way.” I use my best calming voice to lower his guard. “Can I get you a drink while you wait?”

He fixes his cufflinks as he tries to regain his composure. Wouldn’t want to seem rattled in front of a former student. It almost amuses me, in a detached kind of way.

Many years have passed since I’ve seen him. They have not been kind to him. His hair is more salt than pepper and thinning to reveal the top of his head. His face is lined with more wrinkles and his eyes are sunken in, even his middle is much softer. Rounder. His eyes and skin have a yellowish hue that indicates how hard he’s been hitting the bottle over the years. He doesn’t hold the same authority he did in the past.

I see him so differently now that I know his true colors, but it’s more than that. He’s no longer a strong and fit adult that commanded respect. He’s nothing more than a weakling with no spine and even fewer morals.

“Bourbon would be great,” he responds.

I move to my father’s bar and pour him a generous amount.

“Incoming.” I hear the warning from Scar at the same time my phone beeps with security. Schroder must be here. I grab two more glasses and fill both up with a generous pour. If memory serves me right, I believe this is Schroder’s drink of choice as well.

He walks into the office just as I pass one of the glasses to Dean Bernard. His appearance doesn’t surprise me in the same way. I’ve seen him as recently as at the gala where I first found Scar. She was so close to them, just out of their grasp and none of them even realized it. Thank god for small favors.

“My father will be here soon,” I explain once more. “Drink?” I offer even as I’m already handing the glass over. He looks more haggard than usual, but not nearly as unhealthy as Bernard does.

“You were the one who found her?” Schroder asks as he takes the drink and a seat.

I nod, tapping my fingers against the desk as my nerves grow. These two were never really a threat to the plan being derailed. So far so good, but I can’t help but feel anxiety crawling up my spine. My father is the wild card.

“Stumbled upon her while I was on some business. She’s in a small beach town in Northern California. Secluded house up in the cliffs.” I lift my drink to my mouth but barely let any pass my lips. I’ll need every bit of my wits about me for when my father arrives. He’s going to be angry with their presence. He’ll be even angrier that I didn’t give him a warning about calling them here. He would have never passed along her whereabouts to them. They would continue to live in the dark, wondering if she was truly gone or if she may come back one day to haunt them. They would have never known about the house in the heart of the suburbs just forty-five minutes away from here that would have become her personal hell if she really was the helpless damsel we painted her out to be.

“What are our next steps?” Schroder leans forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his legs as he crosses his hands to lean his chin against. He’s calm, in control. The opposite of the Dean, who’s beginning to turn a little green.

I shrug. “My father will decide. I just brought the information.” I lift the file to indicate the truth of my words. My phone beeps once more and Scar’s voice fills the line, darker and heavier than the last time I heard her. “He’s here.” There’s an edge of sadistic excitement I can hear now. My lips twitch, but I force myself not to smile. It’s too early to smile.

“That should be him now,” I say aloud, checking my phone and nodding.

Schroder brushes imaginary lint from his shoulder. He clears his throat, feigning an air of indifference that isn’t fooling anyone. He wants to see her. “May I?” he asks, gesturing to the file.

I shrug as I hand over the file Noah curated on the fake Scar. It’ll send my father over the edge, but there’s really no avoiding that at this point anyway.

Even from the office, we can hear the front door slam shut followed by pounding footsteps. My father forcibly throws open the office door. “Let me see,” he demands, a wild look in his eyes. His hair is disheveled, so unlike how he normally looks. His cheeks are ruddy with exertion and excitement and his breathing is heavy.

It only takes a moment for him to realize we aren’t alone. His expression falls and a hard glint enters his gaze, malice radiates from him in waves as he notes the file in Schroder’s hands.

“Why the hell are they here?” he demands in a booming voice. A familiar yell that sends chills down my spine. I keep my feet planted but a childlike fear begins in my gut.

My voice is unsteady, but firm as I answer, “It’s a problem that concerns all of you.”

He’s in front of me before I can even blink, the back of his hand slamming into my cheek hard enough to snap my head to the side.

I’m six again, the first time he ever hit me. A backhand across the cheek for talking back when he said Charlotte and I shouldn’t be playing tag. I was supposed to be keeping her safe. Pristine. Helping her learn how to be the perfect wife. I didn’t know what it meant. But my whole face ached for a week.

His spit flies in my face as he roars his displeasure at my making decisions without him. The other two men in the room freeze at his unseemly anger. “What is so hard about keeping your mouth shut?” he growls in my face as he forces me to my knees.

I’m twelve again, on my knees in my front of my father as he undoes his belt. I know the bite of the leather will sting and burn for days after he lashes my back. I also know it will be worse if I even think about making a sound. Tears will bring out his favorite knife.

“Charles,” Scar whispers down the line, tears in her voice. “We’re here. Say the word and we’re coming in.”

No, not yet. I push through the overwhelming memories of childhood abuse. It’s been a long time since I’ve tasted my own blood on my tongue. But a little pain is easy to push through. I’ll just borrow a little of Scar’s strength.

“I apologize,” I tell him what he wants to hear. What he expects. His foot hits me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me, but only a small grunt of pain is released. Still too much by my father’s standards. To my surprise, he doesn’t pull his blade on me.

I’m seventeen, a week before they tortured Charlotte. My father’s sadistic side was no longer a surprise to me, but the evidence of his depravity was new as he laid photo after photo in front of me. The cold metal of a gun pressed against my temple as tears streamed down my face. Blood coated my tongue and my teeth dug into my bottom lip to keep the sounds of my fear from escaping. My father was testing me, and I knew instinctively I wouldn’t survive if I failed.

“Maybe this is better,” he mutters to himself, drawing me out of my horror-filled past. “I always hated that they touched her.” The words are said under his breath, not even really a whisper. Neither man seems to have heard him. They wouldn’t be sitting so still if they had.

My father pulls a gun out from his desk and points it at me, out of the view from the two others. This is not what I expected. I don’t think we have a plan for this. Real fear makes my heart race, not only for myself, but mostly for Scar. If she rushes in here, she will make an easy target for him. He won’t even hesitate to pull the trigger on an intruder. There’s no way he would even recognize her.

“I need to think,” he says in a hushed voice. “Tie them up,” he instructs me, pulling long lengths of rope from the desk. Don’t even want to know why that’s in there. He comes closer to hand me the rope and I don’t recognize the gleam in his eyes.

He’s always been sadistic. A cold, unfeeling bastard. Thriving on the pain and destruction he causes. But this is different. It isn’t just his evil inner desires coming to the surface and breaking his businessman mask. No, it’s far more sinister than even that. He looks completely unhinged.

His pupils are blown and I can see the vein in his neck pulsing. He lifts the gun from where he’s holding it at his side and lifts it first to Schroder. I climb to my feet and follow his cues, moving first to Bernard who sits frozen, shell-shocked at the sudden turn of events. Schroder doesn’t take it silently though, raising his voice as he screams for answers from my father. It won’t get him far, but that’s the least of my worries.

Tying Bernard is easier than it should be. The man must truly be in a state of shock. I’m more sure than ever that what he did to Scar was an isolated incident. At least as far as working with my father. There’s no doubt he’s a sick and twisted bastard. He’s probably taken advantage of countless students over the years. Used his position and authority to get away with heinous acts. But that night must have been a moment of opportunity, a fluke. He doesn’t have what it takes to be in the same league as my father.

Schroder fights me, but my father just laughs, making a show of clicking the safety off of the gun and pointing it at his head. “Keep fighting and I’ll just get rid of you now. You should know how this works,” he mocks and Schroder goes still. “I just need time to plan my next steps,” my father muses aloud.

Fuck, this went to hell a lot faster than anticipated. We just meant to get them all in this room, distract them enough with each other for Scar and her men to move in. It was just meant for them to take control quickly. How did it deteriorate so quickly?

I should have checked the damn desk for weapons. Why didn’t I?

I push Schroder to the ground after tying him up the same way as Bernard and turn my attention to my father. He’s already giving me a sinister smile, but not an approving one. He keeps his gun in his hands but moves it to his left before pulling out a blade with his right.

“You thought she was yours too,” he whispers, walking up to me. I back up several steps until I’m close to the office doors. Just to the left of the open doors and I can see down the hallway. He uses the gun to motion me to stay put. My hands shake and I lock them behind my back. “I can always make a new heir,” he says absentmindedly. A creepy smile twists his lips up. “An heir with her.” He steps up to me, tracing the blade against my cheek and shivers go down my spine but I keep my hands locked behind my back and my lips sealed shut.

Any fight would make this moment worse. He has the upperhand and he knows it. In order to avoid his suspicion I left myself far too open. Should have known better but my focus wasn’t entirely on myself.

The tip of the blade digs into the delicate skin of my cheek. Warm blood trails down my face and drips onto my neck.

“Did you think I missed the sound you made earlier?” he taunts as he pulls the blade away from my skin. “You never deserved her,” he whispers in my ear and my eyes shut against my will, trying to force him out. Wishing more than anything that she wasn’t also listening to this. “And you don’t deserve to be my heir.”

The blade slicing through my flesh is a pain unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. It sinks deep into my gut and my eyes fly open as I sputter in shock. I meet his cruel and delighted gaze as twists the blade, making my vision white out as a soft groan escapes against my will. This is far worse than what I ever had to endure as a child. He’d carve my skin, lash my back, starve and isolate me. But he never fully embedded a knife into my body. Never truly inflicted life-threatening damage. Until now. He laughs as he wrenches the knife free, pushing down on my shoulder until I fall to my knees.

I gasp as my hands press against the gaping wound in my stomach. My breath comes out in heavy pants as I hear Scar yelling my name followed by pandemonium before it all goes quiet. Too quiet. The sudden lack of noise in my head makes my head spin. Where did she go?

Adrenaline crashes into my system, making it hard to think as I stare at my father as he sits atop his desk, drinking from the glass of bourbon I had poured for myself. When did he get over there?

“None of you ever deserved her,” my father says, staring at all the three of us with disgust in his eyes. “I should have killed you both that night and taken her for myself. Would have been less messy.”

He’s fucking lost it. I’m not the only one thinking it based on the looks on Schroder and Bernard’s faces as their eyes volley between my father and me.

“Maybe I never would have lost my little daisy,” he ponders as he drains his glass. He drops his knife to the desk and lifts the gun as he waves it between the three of us.

It lands on me after several moments. “Your sins are probably the least,” he admits, “but unfortunately for you, your disappearance is also the easiest for me to cover up. The other two might take a bit more finessing.” He cackles as if he just told the funniest joke. I don’t think it’s the liquor that has gone to his head. His obsession with Scar has poisoned his already weak and evil mind.

Hot blood seeps through my fingers and I sway where I kneel on the office floor, my vision going gray and blurring at the edges. I just have to hold on a little longer. Scar wouldn’t abandon me. Though maybe she should. Just light the whole estate on fire with me in here.

It’s like my father said. My sins might be the most forgivable. It doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to burn for them.

My father lifts the gun and takes aim at my head.

“She was always meant to be mine,” he says and the world slows down. The stroke of his finger over the trigger, the bullet releasing from the chamber, the malicious glee of killing his own son.

Is this what Charlotte felt like that night?

A knife in her gut, a gun pointed at her, a bullet tearing through her flesh.

I close my eyes, resigned to my fate. A karmic justice for what happened to her because I failed to protect her.

All that’s left is to let me burn.