Chapter 30

Chapter Thirty

Bronwyn

W aking up to being kicked in the ribs really fucking sucks. Shuddering, I feel bile rushing up my body and choke, writhing as I realize I can’t puke. It’s filling my mouth and going out the only way it can, which is through my nostrils due to the gag in my mouth.

“Oh fucking gross,” a girl’s voice says as I try to blink the darkness away. Unfortunately, I can’t because I’m blindfolded as well as tied up.

Someone yanks the blindfold away, I see a girl with shining dark brown hair sneering down at me. I’m a mess, there are tears smeared down my face along with makeup, but I still try to scream.

My gaze looks past her to figure out where I am.

Is that snow all around us? It’s really cold in here, and I think I’m in a fucking shed.

“Shut up!” the girl yells, kicking me in the stomach. God, I can’t breathe, and this gag won’t let me drain the saliva and bile in my mouth. Can you die this way?

“Daughter, if you kill her, we can’t get the Family back our money,” a man says, moving her back. I recognize the man by his tattoos, recognizing them as Arina and Adamson.

I wish I could talk, scream, fight, but my legs are tied to my arms, and it’s all starting to fall asleep.

“It figures that Dee’s little slut step-sister would be the key to our problems,” Arina mutters. “How did Gareth lose all the money anyway?”

“He says it just disappeared, but you know the Family is going to kill him anyway,” Adamson says with a low chuckle.

“He’d deserve it,” Arina mutters.

“Who deserves what?” Gareth asks, closing the door behind himself. There’s snow on his clothing that he shakes off, and paperwork in his hands. “Are you talking shit about me to my daughter?”

I still refuse to call him my father, my brain simply rejects the idea. He hurt Dahlia so much. It doesn’t even surprise me that he’s stooping to kidnapping, since that’s what he initially did to my girl.

A low moan of pain behind me makes me stiffen, fear for someone other than myself increasing my heartbeat. I care more about the people that I love than myself. All I want is for them to be alright. Maybe that isn’t healthy, but it’s how I’m wired.

“Jack deserves for his little sluts to be murdered and found in the woods,” Adamson lies smoothly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s behind your money problems somehow.”

If only he knew.

“Yes, well he doesn’t think very highly of me,” Gareth says with a sniff, walking closer to me, while avoiding the mess I’ve made. “Is my beautiful step-daughter awake yet, Adamson? Bronwyn, I will not hesitate to fuck her raw in front of you, if you don’t sign this contract to sign over your grandfather’s inheritance to me.”

Wrapping his hand in my hair, he yanks my head back. “I hope I’m making myself clear,” he growls. “You’re quite the disappointment, pumpkin. I didn’t sign up to be the parent of a fucking cunt licker. I was hoping to marry you off to someone rich and powerful. Instead you’re common and poor.”

I live in a high rise that costs more than Gareth currently has in any of his accounts, and I have control of the money he wants from my grandfather. I don’t think I’m all that common.

Adamson makes a disgusted face behind Gareth’s back, walking over to kick Dahlia in the stomach. Her scream tells me that she’s not gagged. God, I hope her hands are free too.

“The bitch is now,” Adamson grunts. “I don’t understand your fascination with her, man. You haven’t seen the little whore in years. Is this some fascination you never acted out before that you need to scratch?”

A calculating look comes over Gareth’s face and I remember Jack told me once that the Boxley’s are very against child rape and exploitation. If I can get this fucking gag off, I’ll tell Adamson all about my father’s obsession in the hopes that he’ll kill him.

“That’s exactly it,” Gareth says smoothly. “She was too young to touch back then. Now, Bronwyn, I’m going to give you one chance to sign this, and then the consequences will begin.”

“Gareth, stop,” Dahlia says, her voice filled with pain.

Pulling me by my hair so I’m facing Dahlia, I wince, knowing I’m completely filthy, my face beginning to swell from earlier. Her eyes grow wide as she sees me, bouncing all over as if she doesn’t know where to focus.

“Still a whiny bitch,” he sighs. “Your mother was the same way. There are going to be some beautiful azaleas growing over where I buried her come spring.”

Oh my fucking God.

“You killed her?!” Dahlia gasps, and I want to close my eyes to her pain as she begins to cry. A part of me isn’t surprised, but while her name has been on the roster at the hospital, she has been taking less and less shifts.

I thought it was normal, since she’d be taking over the work that I did. It would have been so easy for Gareth to pretend she was clocking in and out.

None of us thought to check on her, and there was no evidence that Gareth would kill her. After all, threats of it only work if Dahlia is around to see them. God, I’m so sorry, Lucia. Even though you were a terrible mother, you didn’t deserve this.

“For fuck’s sakes, woman,” Adamson says, leaning down to backhand Dahlia.

“This is the best day ever, Daddy,” Arina says with a fucked up grin. Adamson pats her on the head like a dog before dismissing her. I don’t miss the slight hurt in her blue eyes, but I can’t feel any kind of emotion for her.

“Anything for you, Arina,” he says robotically. “Let’s get this show on the road. They may be looking for them already?—”

“The house is locked down,” Thomas says, coming into the shed. The man is a blond Adonis, with muscles rippling all over body. My lips curl in anger as much as possible around the gag, infuriated that he’s working with them.

“They found the other bodyguard in the storage room, and Jack is screaming for blood. I also vaguely heard that Greg is headed in. We don’t have much time, and I want my fucking?—”

Adamson calmly lifts his gun and shoots Thomas between the eyes. I don’t make a sound as he drops to the ground, and neither does Dahlia. We trusted him to protect us. This end is too fucking good for him in my opinion.

“Come on, come on,” Adamson says, waving his gun in a circular motion. God, he’s going to accidentally shoot someone at this point.

“You’re so damn bossy,” Gareth complains, moving around to untie my wrists. My legs thump to the ground, and I bite back any sound of pain. The only sign of it is in my faster breathing, the tears building in my eyes. If I cry, I risk drowning in my own snot from the fucking gag.

Bringing my hands around, I try to rub them awkwardly as the blood rushes back.

“Too fucking slow,” Gareth snarls, yanking me upright by my hair.

“Easy!” Dahlia yells. “She’s your daughter. Don’t be such a ow?—!”

Arina smirks after she kicks Dahlia, stepping back. “You’re so fucking stupid,” she mutters. “You’re supposed to be smart. Why did you have to follow me?”

I have a feeling I know how Dahlia ended up here, but I’d have done the same, knowing how shady her family is.

I glare at my father, which only makes him laugh. I point to the gag, because I really am having trouble breathing. There’s bile stuck at the back of my throat, and it burns like nothing else.

It’s all I can smell. If I can’t spit to clear it soon, I’m going to puke again. While it may not kill me, inhaling bile isn’t something I want to do again.

Rolling his eyes, Gareth pulls off the gag, jumping away dramatically when I cough, spit, and hack.

“You’re an idiot,” I gasp. “I’m not signing shit, just for the pure joy of knowing the Boxley’s are going to torture and kill you. You’re a sick child rapist!”

“What?” Adamson asks, standing straighter from where he was enjoying the conversation.

“You should really take better care of who you’re getting in bed with,” I mutter.

I can hear my name, my real one being screamed outside, and I glance at Dahlia.

“Jack,” we scream together. “Help!”

“Bronwyn? Where are you?” another male yells, and I shake my head, not knowing who it is.

“Well, I guess we’re taking a trip through the snow, dear daughter,” Gareth mutters, pulling me forward by my hair toward the door. Screaming, I claw at him, because that’s the last thing I want to do. “We’ll get you to give me that money one way or another.”

“It’s been real, Adamson?—”

“You fucking bastard,” he snarls, grabbing my leg to yank me back. The pain in my scalp intensifies, and I can’t keep back the tears or my scream.

“Let go!” I scream, kicking my leg at Adamson. The wanna be gangster puts his gun in his pants holster, snarling as he grabs my other leg and yanks. My hair is tearing from my scalp, and Gareth has huge handfuls of it.

“You’ll learn your place girl,” he yells. “What the hell happened to you?”

I can’t respond, I’m in too much pain as Arina screams.

“Daddy, watch out! Oh fuck, she’s insane,” Arina says.

From where I’m being yanked between two grown men like a fucked up version of tug of war, I watch Dahlia leap up onto Adamson’s back. She was never bound or gagged, and they forgot how feral she can be after living for years on the street.

A flash of her Christmas gift alerts me to the knife, and then she’s digging it deep into Adamson’s throat. Her thighs are clamped on his hips like a fucked up version of riding a bull, her fingers not on the knife clenched on his hair to keep him still.

His hands immediately drop me as he gurgles, blood flowing, and she stabs him again above his collar bone, yanking it to the side, so his neck sprays blood. I can’t get away from Gareth as he yanks me to standing, even though my legs are still tied.

It’s awkward, but I’m no longer wearing my heels, which helps. Adamson’s knees buckle as he attempts to grab Dahlia, to throw her off, but she won’t let him, dodging his efforts as much as possible.

“Fuck, Gareth do something!” Arina complains, her hands tugging on her hair.

“You’re on your own, kid,” he grunts.

Dropping to her feet, Dahlia walks quickly toward me, the knife hidden in the folds of her dress as Adamson dramatically drops onto his side, his throat a ruined mess. Gareth’s eyes shift wildly between everything happening before settling on Dahlia.

“Are you sure you don’t want me instead?” she asks, swallowing thickly to hold back her revulsion. I can see her fingers trembling, but I stay still. I can tell she’s up to something.

“You know I do, but I need the money more,” he mutters. Dahlia presses her knife into my hand before he shoves her aside and tosses me over his shoulder to run outside.

“Bee!” Dahlia screams, trying to follow me out.

“Poor, little bitch lost everything, huh?” Is all I hear before Gareth kicks the door behind him, making Dahlia have to jump back. He forces a chair underneath it, making sure it can’t be moved before he’s running.

“Gareth. You bastard!” I scream, holding tightly to the knife as I struggle.

I can vaguely hear people moving around us, the falling snow somehow muting everything. I can’t tell how close anyone is as he runs away from the shed with long strides.

The snow is really coming down, and I shiver, knowing I need to make a move so I won’t freeze. I can’t let him take me into the woods.

“Let go!” I scream again, partly to lead help toward us.

“Shut up, woman,” Gareth hisses, running faster. I can feel every bounce, every movement, and I’m trying to find a good place to stab him, since his overcoat covers his body.

So, I try to make him drop me. My body is screaming with discomfort and pain, and I’m sure something is broken. I’ll gladly take Jack and Dahlia loving on me as I heal. I just need to be able to get to that point.

Rolling, twisting, kicking my feet, I force Gareth to overbalance and fall. The snow is so fucking cold as it covers my body, and he curses at me, wrapping his hands around my throat.

“Remember you asked for this,” he hisses. “I’ll write your name in blood, as long as it means there’s DNA evidence on the paperwork that you touched it. Stupid fucking girl!”

When I fell, my hand with the knife got stuck underneath me, and is now caught in the thick material of my dress. Gareth’s weight is digging the blade into my skin now, so all I can do is kick and buck my weight upward to try to get the fucking knife free.

I’m not going out like this. Absolutely fucking not. Screaming in my head in frustration, I feel my lungs begging for oxygen. I punch, scratch, and poke my fingers into Gareth’s eyes, finding my reward when he turns and throws me away from him.

Gasping in air as I fly through the air until I land tumbling into the snow, I get onto my hands and knees, cutting my feet loose. It’s really fucking cold, but I’m running on adrenaline as I stand.

My body is weak, but I will stay upright.

“Aww, a knife. I don’t think you’re capable of hurting me,” he snarls, seeing it in my hand. “I’m your dad.”

“You’re no such thing. Not anymore,” I tell him, running toward him. While I’m not usually great on the offensive, I have no doubt he’ll put me in another position to fight him off.

Let’s just hope he dies this time.

Dahlia

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper, shoving against the door. “Help! Jack!”

“We’re surrounded by dead bodies,” Arina mumbles, sliding down the side of the shed, staying as far away from her father’s spreading blood as she can. “It smells, and we’re going to freeze. What if the police find us first? I’m going to tell them you did it! Maybe you’ll finally leave me alone.”

“Little girl, I don’t want anything to do with you,” I complain, looking around for a window. “There you are.”

It’s small, but I’ll probably fit through it. While I’ve gained some weight back, I have malnutrition over several years working against me as I struggle to get healthy again. I only have muscles from dancing, which help as I climb the shelves against the wall.

“Wait, you can’t leave me,” Arina says. I swear there’s a screw loose as I shove open the window and try to wiggle through it. Arina knocks over the shelving unit to try to get me to fall, but I’m already too far through for it to matter.

Snow is soft enough to break my fall, right?

When I was leaving the stage, I saw Arina whispering to Ivan furiously, and he kept shaking his head. I needed to find Jack and Bee, but couldn’t see anything other than people outside of the ballroom rushing around.

Arina saw me and laughed, saying I looked like a lost puppy. I should’ve stayed in one place, and not followed. Unfortunately, I hate the bitch so much. My gut told me she was hiding something, so I followed, even when Ivan shouted my name.

Arina ran away into another part of the house, and I followed, only to be clotheslined by Thomas as I ran around the corner. I couldn’t breathe, scream, or get away when his thumb found my pressure point and made me pass out.

I woke up in the shed, cursing myself. I would rather have been here to help Bee than safe in the house anyway.

“Stop, wait!” Arina tries to grab my feet, and I wiggle further out, gasping. My ass is going to get stuck in this damn window, I think. Damnit!

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Screaming, I turn my face to see who is speaking, half hanging out of this God forsaken window. A man with short brown hair walks into my vision, looking both amused and horrified. My hands keep slipping because of the blood on them, and I’m trying desperately to ignore it. I don’t care about killing a man, I care that the bastard’s fluids are on me.

Green eyes catch mine, and I realize I can’t hear him anymore. Fuck, this is what panic looks like.

“I can’t, just wait,” I mumble, twisting to get out of the window. “I’m stuck!”

“Dahlia, it’s fine,” the man says, and I shake my head. He shouldn’t know that name. “It’s Greg, honey. Come on, give me your hands.”

Recognizing his name, I relax, nodding. While I know the name, I’ve never spoken to him or seen him.

Reaching out, he grabs my bloody hands with his gloved ones. Being stuck means my bruised stomach muscles are painfully pressing against the window, and I gasp.

“Is any of this yours?” he asks, and I shake my head, feeling myself starting to slide forward.

“Fuck,” I gasp, my body falling through the window. Greg easily catches me, refusing to put me down.

“Frostbite doesn’t help you,” he grunts. “Get on my back, I’ll even let you stab people.”

“Promise? Gareth has Bee,” I tell him, settling on his back like a damn monkey.

“Yeah, that’s not gonna fly,” he mutters, stalking forward. I try to make sure not to get in his way, feeling every bump and bruise, but refusing to acknowledge it.

As I gaze around, I see people getting closer to us. They’re silent, so I do the same. A hand touches my shoulder when I turn my head, making me jump.

“Easy, Dahlia,” Greg murmurs. “They’re right up ahead.”

“It’s just me, baby,” Jack says softly, his gloved hand moving to my bloody hand.

“Not mine,” I rasp softly, and he nods. Together, we move forward, and Greg grabs a wicked knife, handing it up to me.

I can vaguely see two people grappling together, and then I hear Bronwyn scream in frustration. This snow is so heavy, it looks as if I’m going to be flirting with frostbite after all. The wind pulls at my braid, tendrils whipping across my face.

“Go help her,” Greg says softly. “No matter what, Gareth isn’t leaving here alive.”

Jack growls under his breath, but I hop down from Greg’s back and run through the snow to where Gareth and Bee are. I won't be able to feel my toes soon, but as long as I’m with Bee, it won’t matter.

Gareth is on top of her, so I shove my knife into the base of his skull, hoping to sever his vertebrae. I learned a lot about the body while studying for my GED, but I doubt this is the way they thought I’d use the information.

Kicking him off Bee, I help her up, breathing hard.

“He’s never going to stop,” I wheeze. The bastard is bleeding onto the snow, his legs trying to shove himself away. He looks like a beached whale. While not paralyzed, Gareth is having a bad time of things.

“Nope,” she mutters, her eyes on him as she threads her fingers in mine as she’s done a million times before. “Together?”

“Always and forever,” I whisper, my toes beginning to go numb as I walk with her. “Gareth, you’ve been a very bad boy.”

I pitch my voice to sound as creepy as possible as we continue to get closer. I’m aware this isn’t self defense, it’s murder, but this man has terrorized my body, my thoughts, and my dreams for so long that I can’t bring myself to care about morality.

Right and wrong have no place here. I’m not disassociating, but don’t think that what we’re doing is all that terrible. We’re ridding the world of an evil human.

“Fucking psycho,” Gareth growls as I walk up his body, only to drop onto his chest on my knees, enjoying the answering grunt. His coat is keeping my feet out of the snow, especially when Bee drops next to me to help unbutton it.

“Thanks,” I say, shoving the knife into his chest, yanking down to slice through his dress shirt.

“You can’t complain about something you’re responsible for,” Bee says as Gareth screams, as if to an errant child. Pursing her lips, she stabs into his shoulder, grinning evilly as his hand drops into the snow in mid-motion.

Following her lead, I stab the other, tearing his tendons so he can’t grab for us.

“Ahh! Stop, what do you want from me?” Gareth screams, making me smirk.

Now that’s more like it.

“How is your head, baby? This asshole kept pulling it,” I coo, pulling out the coat so she can kneel on it. She may as well be comfortable.

“I swear, he pulled out some of my hair,” she says, pouting. I’m aware our emotions aren’t quite in line with what’s happening, but it feels as if I’m floating slightly out of body. Maybe it’s the concussions we probably have, or the blunt force trauma, but I feel really fucking odd.

There’s blood, vomit, and unmentionable fluid on Bee’s face and the front of her dress, but she’s never looked more beautiful to me.

Neither one of us is shivering, warmed by the promise of our revenge. I want to live my life in peace.

I think of every single instance when he’s hurt Bee or myself, and I slam the knife into Gareth again. Bee follows my lead, choosing a different body part, to stab him in, listening to him scream.

He tries in the beginning to throw us off, but quickly tires as the blood loss begins to affect him. While I might not have severed his vertebrae correctly, I definitely did some damage. Over and over I stab, losing myself to emotion, hatred, and the soothing red substance leaking from Gareth’s body, until Bee is clinging to me as she cries for the both of us.

The anger and madness of the past rides me hard as I focus on seeing how many times I can get the man underneath my knife to scream out for mercy. A part of me is saddened when he doesn’t ask for it, not once.

He screams just the same though, and that has to be enough.

“Dahlia!” Bee screams, squeezing me harder, so I can’t raise my arms without hurting her. I’ve been moving down Gareth’s body as I stab, and his pelvis is a mutilated mess. Blood and tissue are all that’s left of a body part that hurt me so much.

He stole my innocence, tried to steal my soul, and that’s when I realize I’m sobbing. Gasping, heaving cries escape me, as I glare at Gareth’s ruined cock.

“I hate him so much,” I scream.

Jack’s arms wrap around both of us, pulling us close as he ignores the gore on our bodies and hair, his lips pressed tightly against the shell of my ear.

“Look, baby girl. He’s gone,” he rasps. “Gareth is gone, only meat, blood, and bones are left. He can’t hurt you anymore, Dolly.”

Chest heaving, I drop the knife with numb fingers, turning to wrap my arms around his neck. I know I’m getting blood and other things on his skin, but Jack hugs me against his body.

“We need to get them inside, Jack,” Greg says behind me, squatting next to me. He has blankets in his arms, his eyes taking in the carnage in front of him. “You two did really well. We’ll make sure he’s never found.”

“My mom,” I yelp, turning around. “Her body is buried in his backyard. Gareth told us he killed her.”

Greg blows out a breath, the cold air fogging up in front of him. “We’ll find her as soon as the ground isn’t frozen, Dahlia,” he says. “We need to get you both to the hospital to make sure you keep all your fingers and toes.”

Greg wraps Bee and I in blankets, and Jack looks torn because he can’t carry us both.

“Take Bee,” I say, as she says the same about me. I roll my eyes, shivering, and Greg barks out a laugh, moving over to scoop Bee up into his arms.

“March,” he says, and Jack picks me up and we begin walking. “You two didn’t even hesitate, not that I expected it. Gareth deserved every blow. Don’t hold on to any of it, all the trauma, everything he did? It’s gone, because you killed the man who did it. Mourn your mom, Dahlia, but know you’re not responsible for what happened.”

Nodding, I know he’s right, and I lay my head on Jack’s shoulder.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, feeling tired. “Did anyone get the bitch out of the shed with the dead bodies?”

Jack looks sharply at Greg, and I know I sound loopy. My words are also slurring.

“Arina,” Bee says softly. “Adamson shot Thomas in the shed, so he’s in there too. It’s been a busy night.”

I feel an inappropriate giggle, and I swallow it down. Busy is a fucking understatement.

Greg points to the shed, and I watch as people in dark tactical gear jog over. If I listen closely, I can still hear Arina yelling to be let out, but the wind is loud and I can’t feel my nose. The full force of the security contingent is with us, while others are cleaning up the mess Bee and I made.

“I closed down the ballroom,” Jack says. “I went looking for Bee, but instead found her purse with her knife in it, and then Ciara in the fucking closet bound and gagged.”

“Gareth really liked his gags,” Bee says bitterly. “I puked and almost asphyxiated on it. I’m pretty sure I stabbed him a few times with that in mind.”

“That’s rough,” Greg mutters. “Fuck, I can honestly say I’ve never had that happen to me. You’re a bigger badass than me.”

My lips twitch, or at least I think they do. Shivering, I snuggle deeper into the blankets wrapped around my entire body. I love that Greg isn’t grossed out by either of us. We are in serious need of showers, though.

“What hospital are you taking us to?” I ask. “If we go anywhere normal, we’re going to end up handcuffed to a bed, and not in a sexy way.”

Greg and Jack roar with laughter as they walk inside, and I sigh as I feel the warmer air on my face.

“The military hospital that won’t ask questions,” Greg says. “You aren’t going to have any blow back from this.”

“Jack!” Sullivan says, and I cringe. I look a fucking mess and I know it. “Is she okay? Both of them?”

“Yeah, we’re going to the hospital. We’re skipping out the side door here,” Jack says, nodding to the left. “As far as you know, Bee fell and twisted her ankle, and we found her outside. Everyone can go home.”

“Silly ‘ole me,” Bee drawls terribly.

Sullivan’s eyes widen, and I wonder if it’s because of how she looks or the accent. “You need to work on your southern accent, Ma’am,” he says. “Y'all be careful on those roads now, ya hear?”

“That wasn’t half bad,” Bee says, eyes fluttering as she starts to pass out.

“We’re out,” Greg says, jogging toward the door. Jack follows behind, and I let myself drift into the darkness. I can’t stave off the weight from this night, nor what it’s done to my body.