Chapter 89

EIGHTY-NINE

AMETHYST

I lie on the mattress, holding my breath as Delta orders Locke to take me to another room. He tells his patrons to help themselves to drinks while he settles Xero into an appropriate cell.

The room erupts into nervous chatter, although it’s a lot thinner than before Xero’s rampage. That’s partly because half the men are either dead or maimed. Sweat and blood and death stain my nostrils, making me want to gag. The surviving men don’t seem to give a shit that their comrades got slaughtered—they’re all itching for a chance to fuck Dolly’s corpse.

I peek through my lashes, watching Delta dragging Xero out of the room, wishing I had the manpower and strength to cut them all into pieces. Since all I have is an ice pick, I’ll have to play dead and strike from the shadows.

When Locke’s fingers close around my ankles, I force myself not to flinch. He drags me off the mattress, and I land on the floor with a painful thud. I close my eyes, focusing on the sensation of being pulled across the room and through the door leading to a tiled hallway.

As we enter a bedroom, Locke lifts me off the floor and tosses me onto a mattress. I land on my back, the ice pick in my pocket bouncing on my thigh.

Locke retreats, leaving me alone in the lavish, dimly lit room. The moment the door clicks shut, I reach for my weapon and secure it in my palm.

All I need to do is wait for the auction winner.

When I’ve killed him using the element of surprise, I’ll wait for the next man to come and check up on him, then he’ll be the next to die.

Before I can even complete that plan, the door swings open, and I stiffen. Dolly steps in, her figure in silhouette. She switches on the light and strides to my bedside.

Her hot breaths make every fine hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I close my eyes, my heart pounding so hard and fast I’m sure she knows I’m faking.

“How typical of you to fall dead after less than twenty minutes. You were always weak.” She reaches down and yanks me up by the hair. “Always getting off lightly. I had to perform in those movies for years, fighting off hundreds of those bastards, yet you can’t even survive a single one.”

My heart sinks at the reminder of everything she suffered. When warm spittle lands on my cheek, I force myself not to flinch. I hate Dolly, even though she’s a victim as much as she’s a monster. But I wish there was a way I could make her understand the truth.

“I begged Delta to be the one to kill you, to slay the last of my demons, but he wanted to make money from your death. It made me fucking sick,” she hisses.

I stiffen, my throat tightening. Can’t she see Delta is her enemy and not me?

“Since I can’t kill you, I’ll desecrate your fucking corpse!”

She releases me with a hard shove, and I fall back onto the mattress. I crack open an eye to find her with her back turned, rummaging through a dresser by the wall and extracting a serrated knife.

Alarm kicks me in the chest, and I launch myself off the mattress. All notions of compassion crumble in the face of my imminent mutilation.

I lunge at Dolly with the ice pick, aiming for her throat. She turns around to dodge, but not fast enough. The pointed tip pierces the side of her neck, releasing a spray of blood.

Dolly staggers back with a scream, her eyes widening as she clutches the wound. She slashes wildly with the knife, but I leap out of reach.

“Cockroach,” she snarls, her voice harsh with venom. “You were playing dead all along. You two-faced, pampered princess.”

My jaw clenches as every memory of her attacking me first rises to the surface, bringing up a bellyful of resentment. Even if Dad smashed her possessions and made it look like I was the culprit, we could have talked things through. Instead, she struck out at me like a psychopath.

“What are you going to do now, Dolly?” I ask, my fingers tightening around the ice pick. “Even things out by stabbing me in the neck?”

Flashing her teeth, she charges. Blood pours from the wound and onto her white dress, but she doesn’t seem to care. Pushing forward everything I learned from sparring practice, I steel my jaw, widen my stance, and ready myself for impact.

She swings the knife in an upward arc, aiming for the gap between my ribs. I block, sidestep, and strike at her throat. She stumbles backward, crashing into the dresser.

“You bitch,” she screeches.

Still facing me, she reaches behind her back and fumbles through the drawer, presumably looking for a weapon more deadly than a knife. I charge at her, narrowly missing an attempt to gouge my eyes.

“Wake up. All I ever did was exist.” I kick her wrist, making the knife fly across the room.

She whirls on me, her face twisted into a rictus of rage. “You’ve never suffered a day in your life!”

“Bullshit.”

With a scream, she charges. I pivot, but she adjusts course and tackles me to the bed. The mattress sags under our combined weight, and we roll across its surface, grappling for control. She gets on top, her hands wrapping around my throat.

“If you think a month in the loony bin matches years of being raped while killing and nearly being killed for Delta, then you’re insane.”

“Then team up with me and kill him,” I snap.

She draws backward for a head butt. At the last minute, I punch her neck wound, releasing another spray of blood. She cries out, her grip loosening enough for me to twist free and roll off the bed. Landing on my feet, I glance around the room and rush to where she dropped the knife.

Dolly leaps off the bed and jumps on my back. “Mom handed you everything on a golden platter.” She tries to cut off my air. “I had to fight and fawn and fuck to stay alive.”

I charge backward, slamming her into the wall, making her cry out. When she doesn’t release her grip around my neck, I back us into the wardrobe, knocking over a small table covered with cosmetics.

Releasing her grip, she drops to the floor, panting hard. “Is that all you’ve got?”

Ignoring her, I pick up the fallen knife. “I’m sorry your life was a misery, but it wasn’t my fault.”

“Bullshit!” she screams, clutching her neck.

Her gaze is unfocused, and I wonder if it’s just the blood loss or if she’s also under the influence of drugs. I can’t imagine existing alongside Delta without needing chemicals to muffle the horror.

“Mom’s diary explained it all. We weren’t even Dad’s kids. He was an FBI agent?—”

“I know,” she snaps.

I flinch. “What?”

“Delta told me everything. You don’t have to tell me what Kappa did, or that Lambda plotted to steal everything away from Mom and leave her destitute, because I already know.”

My brow pinches. Lambda must be a code word for Lyle. “Then why?—”

“Because we were supposed to be together,” she screeches, her eyes streaming with tears. “Three Fates and what happened after would have been bearable with you!”

Her words trigger a slew of memories where she was always praised for succeeding, while I was chastised for minor failures. The instructors made a point of breaking my spirit, stroking Dolly’s ego while offering me nothing but denigration.

Gripping the knife, I nod. “I was supposed to be the scapegoat, while you basked as the golden child.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she snarls.

“I don’t expect Delta taught you the intricacies of narcissistic abuse.”

She rises to her feet on shaky legs, raising the ice pick. I flinch, not knowing when she wrestled it from my fingers.

Charging at me like a banshee, she screams, “You were always a book nerd. Why don’t you just die?”

Time stills, and the space between pounding heartbeats expands. I stand in place, imagining myself as a matador, facing a furious bull. Dolly aims the ice pick at my eyes, her features a rictus of fury.

She won’t change.

She never will.

I exist to serve as the whipping girl for everything that’s gone wrong in her life. But I refuse to take the blame for the actions of our stepfather and his corrupt associates. Refuse to waste another second of my time explaining my truth to a murderous woman who won’t listen.

Dolly might be a victim, but she’s far from innocent. She sat by, allowing Delta to create more snuff movies. She could have killed him any time during their marriage, including today, yet she turned her anger on me.

As she comes within reach, I remember Seth’s comment about her glass eye. Shifting my weight backward, I wait for the hand holding the ice pick to approach. At the last minute, I leap into her blind spot, grab her arm, and slip my knife between her ribs.

Time snaps back to normal as she drops to her knees, her eyes widening with shock.

“Amy?” she whispers, sounding just like the twin I remember.

“I hope you find peace in death, because you’re too dangerous to keep alive.”

Blood wells at her parted lips, and she gazes up at me with wide eyes filled with betrayal. She falls onto her side, her body convulsing.

Bile rises to my throat. I stumble back, gasping for breath as life drains from Dolly’s eyes. Her body twitches once before falling limp in a pool of spreading blood.

Dolly. My stalker, my tormentor, my twin. The monster in the mirror. The woman who should have been my lifeline but chose to make me suffer.

Finally, it’s over. At least for her.

I fall to my knees beside her, grief crashing down like a lead weight. Harsh sobs tear from my throat, mingling with hot tears. I place a hand on her face, feeling warmth that will soon dissipate. No matter how much I try to stem the emotion, it won’t stop.

There’s no time to mourn. Xero is unconscious, alone, and at Delta’s mercy. What if Delta is murdering him or letting those sickos access his unconscious body?

But I can’t stop crying.

I cry for the girl she was, for the sister I lost, for the monster she became. My tears soak into her dress, mingling with the blood.

Dolly deserved better. We both did. So did Mom. But this is our reality. Pulling back, I blink away the tears and gaze down at her through swollen eyes. Her face is peaceful—free from rage and pain. I want to hate her, but all I feel is overwhelming sadness.

Wiping my eyes, I peel off my torn dress and strip Dolly’s corpse. After forcing her into my outfit, I lift her corpse onto the bed and stumble into the bathroom.

In the mirror is a wild-eyed woman I barely recognize. I’m spattered with blood and my curls fly in all directions. Dark circles ring my eyes, and bruises are already forming around my neck.

With trembling fingers, I turn on the faucet and splash cold water on my face, but it does nothing to cool my nerves. My body is so jittery I can barely scrub off the blood.

Once I’m clean, I rinse the knife and take another look at my reflection. All I see is myself. I’m pale, exhausted, and out of breath, but the monster in the mirror is dead. Any reactions to killing her will have to wait until I’ve rescued Camila and Xero.

It’s going to take more than a knife to get past Delta, and I think I know where to find it. Earlier, Dolly must have been searching for a gun in the top drawer. Slipping on a robe, I step out of the bathroom in search of a weapon, only for my feet to stumble to a stop.

Locke stands at the foot of the bed, staring at Dolly’s corpse. He turns his head, his brow rising with recognition.

Oh, shit.