48. Think about the Times

48

THINK ABOUT THE TIMES

LESTER

I take a deep breath as I cross the university parking lot, inhaling the fresh air as some of the tension I've been carrying leaves my body. The meeting with the schoolboard wasn't a complete disaster, like I imagined it would be. They've taken my statement about the occurred events between Daisy and me, needing to know when it started and how it progressed, and if anything happened on school grounds.

I only answered the questions they asked me, nothing more. They will not do anything before they've questioned Daisy, too, so she'll need to meet with them soon.

I know she'd rather just stay with me, and even though I love having her with me every day and giving her private lessons, I need her to get back to school and get the most out of her education. She's worked so hard to get into this academy, and I only want what's best for her. I want her to become better at the things she's already masterful at and I want her to have opportunities.

I've already been selfish enough with her. For the first time since I was a little boy, I'm no longer acting with only myself and my murderous rage in mind. I'm no longer living for myself, but for her .

It's only been a few months since I've met her, and if it had not been for that night she revealed the truth to me, I don't think I would've allowed myself to fall this deeply, this fast. Because the need to hide myself would always play into our relationship, forever holding a part of myself back.

But that obstacle is out of the way now.

I think I am in love with her.

Frankly, I don't think I am.

I know.

The way she makes me feel is unlike anything I've ever felt before. It's like we connect with every shred of our souls, and I feel her everywhere. My stomach does these odd jumps whenever she smiles. Each time she tells me a story or a joke, I want to reach inside of her and discover every single one she has not yet told me. When she bites her lower lip or arches her left eyebrow, I just want to pick her up and hold her tight against my chest, never let her go. I can hardly breathe without her anymore.

I've come to terms with all of these things. Does it scare the living hell out of me? Absolutely. But I've never felt this gratified, this whole .

I'm going to tell her as soon as I get back home. Checking my watch, I find that it's a little past 7 PM. It's dark outside, only the lanterns allowing me to see the seconds ticking away in the little glass.

I fiddle for my car keys inside my pocket when a hard object slams against the back of my head, making me sink to my knees as my vision blurs, nearly turning pitch black. I try to fight against it, instantly knowing I'm in danger. Blinking and trying to get back up, the feeling of a shoe kicking in my back makes me fall to the ground, my nose hitting the concrete.

I try to reach for a weapon inside my pocket as blood fills my mouth, but it's too late. My vision blackens again, and this time it's because a dark hood is yanked over my head before another hard object crashes against my temple.

" Bod ceann . You've picked the wrong daughter to mess around with," is the last thing I hear before I lose consciousness.

I awake when a fist crashes into my jaw, my head shooting painfully to the side as I gasp out for air.

"Wake the fuck up," a rough voice grunts. "It's only because I want to get the most out of torturing you that I haven't slit your throat yet."

Squeezing my eyes, I force them open as I look at the man before me. My arms and legs are tied to a chair with rope and I try to move them to assess the knots. This man is no amateur, because I'm bound tight.

I take in a deep breath when I realize who he is, because these will surely be my last moments on Earth before he kills me.

Dark brown hair with a few streaks of gray, icy blue eyes, and muscled arms that are visible through his black button-up shirt. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and his knuckles are split, his skin painted with blood. My blood.

It's Daisy's father, Dubh Burton. A man who works for Gianluca Mancini, the most notorious crime boss in Desdemona Hill.

"You're Daisy's father," I say on a cough, stating the obvious.

Making a quick note of my surroundings, I'd say we're somewhere off-grid. Maybe an old warehouse or a basement.

His lip curls up in disgust before he punches me again. Blood splutters out of my mouth the second his fist connects with my face, and I groan. "Fuck."

"Did you really think that I wouldn't find out?" He walks in circles, rubbing his point finger and thumb over his eyelids as he tries to contain himself. "Find out that you touched my daughter?" His arm drops before he steps forward again, granting me another painful smack, this time in my eye. "My daughter ?!" he screams.

He turns again, clenching his fists at his sides while I blink my swollen eye. "You were supposed to teach her. She was so excited to go to your school and you fucking used her for your own selfish needs. There's a reason I've only ever trusted her uncles to be around her and no one else. Men like you prey upon sweet girls like her."

I bow my head and spit a mouthful of blood onto the gray brick ground. "I haven't done anything with her that she didn't want me to do. It was wrong, but it's not like you make it out to be. I would never use her. Or hurt her."

Stepping forward, he points a finger in my face. "You're a fucking liar. Do you think I can't see through to you? See you for the monster you are?" He steps back, looking down at me. "Why should I believe you?"

I don't hesitate before I calmly say, "Because I killed the one who did." Confusion distorts his face and I elaborate. "Her therapist."

He takes another step back and then another, until he bumps against a brick wall. Even with distance now between us, I can still see the pain in his eyes. The anger that was shooting through his body not even a minute ago has been put on pause and in its place seems to be shock.

"Dr. Beaumont?" he asks, his voice catching in his throat. "What happened with him?"

I'm not holding anything back. If he thinks I'm the villain in Daisy's story, he needs to see that I'm actually the one who saved her―and will always save her―from the real evil men.

"He touched her. She told me the first time it happened was when she was fifteen."

He swallows, shaking his head in disbelief. "No. No . I would've known."

"Did you know he had a daughter?" I ask. "She was Daisy's age. She even looked like her. Dr. Beaumont was a demon in disguise. And I shot him through his fucking head for it."

He catches on quickly. "So he didn't kill himself."

"No," I answer. "He didn't."

"My wife―" he mumbles. "She… she trusted him. I should have never gone along with a male therapist…"

I let him ponder, and when he doesn't say anything, I take it upon myself to carry on the conversation. "I think we're more alike than you think." I tilt up my head and look him dead in the eyes. "You'd do anything for your daughter. I would do anything for her, too."

"That doesn't take away from the fact that you were in a position of power. You were supposed to be her teacher. To think of my little girl―" he cuts himself off, then takes a deep breath and continues. "With a man double her age… fuck !" All the confusion has slipped away and the unrelenting anger is back. "I'm going to kill you for it. And I'm going to do it slowly."

He takes a switchblade out of his pocket and steps forward, holding on to my hand and slicing the blade into my finger. I don't flinch as he draws blood, even though it hurts. Because if I were in the same position as him, I would've done the same for my daughter.

I just have to take it. I won't let him murder me, but I should at least let him get some of his frustration out. I suppose that would be fair.

Right when he starts slicing the knife deeper, a panting voice speaks from behind us. "Dubh."

Daisy's father turns, still holding the knife in place. "What is it, Stef? I'm kind of in the middle of something here."

"Daisy is at the house. She doesn't want to say what happened, but she got hurt. You need to get your ass over there. I called Greco to treat her."

"Treat her?" Dubh snaps. "What the fuck happened?"

"It's not bad. I think she got grazed with a bullet from the looks of it. But she won't talk to me. She's hysterically talking to Lucille, but I heard her mention this fucker's name." He nods his head in my direction. "I don't think she'll ever forgive you if you go along with this, man."

"You need to let me go," I interrupt, pulling at the ropes. "She's in danger without me."

Dubh's hand slips into my hair and he pulls my head back forcefully, making me look up at him as he digs the tip of the knife in my throat instead, nipping the skin. "Do you have anything to do with this?"

"I've been here, haven't I?" I snap back, blood sputtering out of my mouth as I speak. "I need to know―how did you find out? About us?"

I'm nearly overcome with worry and anxiety for Daisy's wellbeing, but I push through. I know that her father won't let me go, so I need him to go to her and see if she's okay. Though first, I need to know how he found out about us, because an unsettling feeling just filled my stomach when the guy behind us mentioned that Daisy has been hurt.

"I found an envelope in our mailbox that contained a picture of you together," he snarls, baring his teeth before he turns around, flicks the light switch, and leaves me alone in the dark.