Chapter 46

46

LINCOLN

P ulling up to my childhood home, on the distant outskirts of town, should probably evoke some feeling within me, but it doesn't. The truth is, I'm not sure I will ever feel anything again, but whatever happens, I will try to avenge Logan's death, even if it kills me. Climbing off the bike, I don't bother checking my surroundings, because I know what I will find. There isn't anyone else here, no, this isn't like all her other games, this is the final showdown, and it's only between her and I.

I push open the door, ignoring the assault of memories that flood my mind. I haven't been back here since the morning after my mother's death. The police kept me up in my bedroom all night, until a social worker turned up and told me to pack a bag, and that I wouldn't be coming back. I don't know what I expect when I walk inside, but it isn't to find the place almost untouched. Sure, it's obvious the police tore through here, but the furniture is all the same, and there are still pictures on the wall. It's like time stopped in the worst moment of my childhood.

As I walk through, I don't look at the bay window where my mom and I used to decorate the Christmas tree together every year, no r do I see the doorframe, where she would mark my height every few months. Instead, my focus moves straight to the doorway at the very end of the hall, the one I used to avoid entering at all costs, yet right now, it's my final destination.

My heartbeat is steady as I slowly make my way down the stairs, not bothering to draw any of my weapons, not when I know all too well the kind of game she is looking for. I think of Logan one last time, letting the sight of him bleeding out on the driveway fuel my rage, then I walk into the room where my father killed my mother, just before I killed him.

Vivian is sitting on my father's table, kicking her legs with a smile on her face, and her gun aimed at my chest. "Well look who was a good boy and didn't follow the rules for once," she muses excitedly, sliding off the table and moving straight towards me. "I knew you'd find me, baby," she purrs, pressing her body flush against mine, and holding the gun to my head. "Well, don't just stand there, come play with me." Her hand slides up my chest, gripping the bulletproof vest I'm wearing, and dragging me towards the table.

It's only now, here, this close, that the memory of her from that night comes back to me. She was so young, barely even eighteen, if I had to guess. Perfect for my father's preferences, and I still don't understand why she is doing all of this.

"I see you came alone. I guess you sent the others on my little wild goose chase," she praises, keeping the gun to my head as she searches my body for weapons, her hands dragging against my groin as she goes. "You know, me and that little queen of yours could be good friends, I'm a big fan of her work," she winks, pulling out my gun and knife and tossing them aside. "I thought about taking her, you know? I know how much she means to you, but then I saw how you looked at them," she grins, her eyes glossed and full of crazy, as she pushes me against the table.

"She would have killed you on sight," I reply without emotion, but her grin only widens.

"At first I thought it was just Logan," she pushes on, dragging the gun up and down my face. "But then I was at your office, and I saw the way you looked at the Donovan boy, the way he looked at you, and I knew I had uncovered your secret, your weakness."

My face remains impassive, and when I don't respond, her eyes harden. She's annoyed I'm not playing along with the little fantasy in her head.

"He screamed, you know?" She pushes on, backing away a little to grab her phone from a nearby table, her aim on me not faltering for a second. "He wasn't as prepared as the other one," she brags, moving back over to me, and hitting play on a video on her phone.

The sound of Logan's cries of pain fill the room around us, and I flick my eyes to the screen, watching hit after hit, as I grind my teeth, forcing myself not to react. Her eyes dance in delight as I watch her men beat him like a dog, noting that they are the ones I killed at the Donovan estate. They died far too quickly, but she won't. When I meet her stare again, I remain impassive, not giving her the reaction I know she craves, yet cataloging every injury they inflicted upon him. She presses the gun back into my head firmly, her temper slipping, but then she takes a deep, slow breath.

"You know, I remember your mom begging for you to run that night, but like a naughty boy you didn't listen, did you?" She preens, changing direction, and I fight against the memories of that night threatening to take over my mind, but still she pushes on. "Do you remember how scared she was? How beautifully she screamed out for you?"

"I remember how you screamed," I rep ly calmly, following her lead, and ignoring the bite of metal in the side of my skull.

"She looked so pretty as she bled for him," she whispers against my lips, and it takes everything in me not to move or shy away from her.

"I saved your life, you should be thanking me." I taunt, and the gleam in her eyes disappears.

"Oh, Lincoln, I thought you were smarter than this," she sighs, shaking her head in disappointment, as she nods for me to get on the table. With the gun still on my head, I have no choice but to oblige. She waits until I am laying back, just like she was that night, before she leans down and grits, "You didn't save me, you ruined me." She slides the knife, the one I saw her pull out a moment ago, down my arm, digging it into my skin, and I do my best not to react, which only pisses her off more. "She was your father's downfall you know, he hated her, hated this fucking moronic life she made for you all," she drowns on, as if her words are going to tear apart my idea of a perfect childhood. "But your father loved me, we were going to run away together."

I scoff at that, and she pulls back to glare at me as I spit, "My father was a psychopath, who didn't love anything but killing." She is already shaking her head, but I push on. "Do you know how many girls he had strapped to this table before you? You weren't special. He was going to kill you. You know it, and I know it, that's why you were here, that's why you were screaming, I heard you. You screamed stop, don't, over and over, because you knew that whatever story about him you had concocted in your head, wasn't fucking real, because he was a monster, a murderer."

She smashes the gun into my head, forcing it to whip to the side as she screams, "He was my monster." She digs the knife handle into my face to turn it back to her, the gun back against my skull as she spits, "He loved me, and I loved him, and you took him from me, it's why I took him from you."

Her words don't make any sense, except my mind travels back to that night, to the thunder and the rain, the screaming.

Stop. Don't. Stop. Don't. Stop. Don't… Don't stop .

Oh god, she wasn't begging for mercy, she was begging for more.

My eyes meet hers again, and I see it now, the truth. She really did love my father. She didn't kill Logan for fun, she killed him for revenge.

"I wanted them both, you know, but as his reputation told, Asher Donovan is hard to fucking kill," she huffs, and fuck, I have never wanted to hurt a woman before, but for her I'll gladly break my rules about violence against them. "Oh well, it doesn't matter anymore, now I have you to play with," she preens, piercing the knife into my throat and holding it there. "I could kill you right now, and no one would hear you scream," she moans, watching the blood trickle down my neck like it gets her off.

"You forgot, I'm my father's son, and there is nothing his whore could do to me to make me scream." I laugh, bringing my hand up and pressing it over hers on the knife, pushing it deeper into my neck.

Our eyes lock, and I see a mixture of anger and excitement there, and both remain as she drags the knife down my throat, slicing me open gently, and watching me bleed.

"I suppose your boyfriend screamed enough. In fact, I bet I made him scream more than you ever did," she winks, bringing the knife to her lips and licking it clean. "Mmm, not as good as your father, but close enough."

Keeping her eyes on me, I reply, "You know, I never even thought of you after that night, not once. That's how irrelevant you were to me, like father like son, I guess." I smirk, reaching up to swipe some of the blood from my neck, adding it to my mental list of injuries.

"You're going to die like your mother did, all alone with no one to save you, just like that night." She presses the knife back to my throat with a smile, and I close my eyes so she doesn't see it coming.

"Who said he was alone?" The dark voice purrs, and I delight, as her eyes widen in response.

I knew he'd follow me, the Dark Prince of my dreams, and soon to be one of her nightmares.