38. Reagan

Chapter 38

Reagan

T he cold, damp air in the abandoned warehouse sends a shiver up my spine as Penn and I stand before my father. His calculating gaze is locked on me, but I refuse to let him see any fear. Penn’s grip on my hand tightens, lending me his strength.

“You’re such a weak little bitch,” my husband drawls, his charismatic tone masking the absolute tenebrosity that lurks beneath his public mask. “It’s time for some payback, don’t you think? For all the shitty things you’ve done?”

In one swift motion, Penn releases my hand and grabs my father forcefully by the collar, dragging him forward. My heart races with anticipation. This is the moment we’ve been waiting for; our chance to exact revenge for the torture he inflicted upon me and my sister our whole lives. The screaming, raging, threats and violence will all be over soon.

“Hellfire,” Penn says, his voice low and commanding, “hold him steady.”

I step forward, gripping my father’s arms tightly. A perverse sense of satisfaction courses through me as I finally exert control over the man who has caused me so much pain. As I look into his cold eyes, I can’t help but think that he deserves this, and even more. Nothing we do to him can take away the pain he inflicted on me and the pieces of me he shattered and left in piles of jagged edges.

“Who knew the great St. Pierre could be so easily overpowered?” Penn taunts, a sly grin spreading across his face. “But don’t worry, we’re just getting started.”

Penn quickly retrieves a length of rope from his bag and begins to tie my father to an old chair that must have been left behind from whatever business used to be in this hangar. The knots are elaborate and secure, leaving no room for escape. I watch, fascinated and repulsed in equal measure, as Penn’s efficient movements render my father completely helpless. I’ve dreamed of this day for so long that it doesn’t feel real yet. It feels like I might wake up to some horrible nightmare where none of this with Penn was real. I’ll still be under my father’s thumb, and he’ll be tormenting me and trying to force me to do things with men that make me want to vomit. I look up at Penn and my whole body goes liquid. I love him so much, and I realize I don’t need to have those fears. He’ll never let those hellish things happen to me again.

All I have to do is open my mouth and spill their names, their professions. Where they work and how they are connected. Any little piece of information I have, and my husband will hunt them all down…for me.

“Nice knots,” I remark, my tone playful yet tinged with respect. “You have experience with tying people up?”

“In the words of Bryan Mills, ‘I have a very particular set of skills’,” Penn replies, winking at me playfully as he finishes the last knot. “Now it’s time for the main event.”

As I look at my father, bound and vulnerable before us, a whirlwind of emotions takes hold. I’m thrilled to see the man who has tormented me for so long brought down to a helpless size. He always wanted to appear like the biggest man in the room, but he’s weak. Like all men are, who feel the need to exert control of people like he does.

“Baby,” Penn says, his voice softening as he senses I’m lost in my head. “Are you ready for this?”

Meeting his gaze, I take a deep breath. “Let’s do this.”

I can’t tear my eyes away from the sweat that beads on Penn’s forehead, his muscles tense as he grips the hammer tightly in his hand. I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I watch him raise it high.

“Any last words?” he asks my father, a cruel smirk playing on his lips.

My father’s eyes narrow, but he remains silent, refusing to give Penn the satisfaction of begging for mercy. It’s a futile act, but one that only serves to inflame Penn’s sadistic nature further.

“Suit yourself,” Penn says, shrugging nonchalantly before bringing the hammer down with a sickening crunch onto my father’s knee. His screams finally echo throughout the warehouse, but they do little to dissuade Penn from continuing his brutal assault.

My stomach churns as I watch Penn systematically break my father’s fingers one by one, each snap producing a fresh wave of screams and tears. The rage that has always burned within me toward this man is full force right now.

“Does it make you feel powerful, husband?” I find myself asking, my voice barely audible above my father’s cries. “Hearing him scream?”

Penn pauses, his gaze flicking toward me as he considers my question. “It’s not about power,” he replies. “It’s about justice for you. Your father deserves every ounce of pain we’re inflicting on him today.”

My father’s pained gasps and whimpers echo off the walls, each one feeling like freedom. I can’t deny the fierce adoration swirling inside me as I watch Penn revel in his role. He’s doing this for me. He’s making things right for me because I’m his wife and he loves me more than he hates my father.

“Tell me, Mr. St. Pierre,” Penn drawls, a malicious grin stretching across his face as he circles my father like a predator stalking its prey. “How does it feel to finally be at the mercy of someone else?”

My father grits his teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. He’ll scream and moan and cry, but he won’t answer. I suppose I have to kind of admire that. It only seems to spur Penn on further, his eyes alight with glee.

“Come on now, don’t be shy,” Penn continues, taunting him mercilessly. “You never had a problem dishing out the pain before. What’s the matter? Can’t take a little taste of your own medicine?”

When my father doesn’t respond, Penn regards me for a long moment, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. Then, without a word, he turns away from me and rummages through his bag. As he pulls out a bottle of lighter fluid in hand.

“Do you want to tell my wife you’re sorry?” Penn asks my father, his voice deceptively calm. “She doesn’t need to hear your apology, but I want to hear you say the words, you old bastard.”

His words send a chill down my spine, and I can’t help but think about the monster that lurks beneath Penn’s charming facade. As he unscrews the cap on the lighter fluid, I fall more in love with him than I already am .

My dad’s eyes widen in terror as Penn douses him with the lighter fluid, a sickening, chemical smell filling the air. I inhale deeply, relishing the scent of petrified pig. This is what I’ve been waiting for, what I’ve dreamed about every night before I fell asleep, praying I could one day see him suffer just a fraction of the pain he’d caused me and countless others.

That’s when I lose it. All the pent-up fury and pain from years of abuse surges to the surface, and before I know it, the words are spilling out of my mouth. “You sold your own flesh and blood to those disgusting pigs! What kind of father does that?” I hiss, my hands trembling with rage.

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. Instead, he coughs and sputters, a pool of spittle gathering at the corner of his cracked lips.

Penn’s eyes take on a dangerous glint as he grabs his knife again. “Nothing to say but bullshit. Let me help you out, then.”

In one fluid motion, he lashes out and sinks the blade deep into Dad’s thigh. The sound of tearing flesh is unmistakable, even over Dad’s agonized screams. Blood pools around his rapidly spreading thigh wound, staining his designer pants a grotesque shade of crimson.

“Ready for the pièce de résistance, wife?” Penn taunts.

“No,” my father finally begs, tears streaming down his face.

“Hellfire?” Penn looks to me for confirmation, his eyes searching mine for any hint of hesitation.

“Make him suffer,” I say, my voice steady and resolute.

“Do you want to do the honors?” Penn asks, his voice soft.

“Do it for me like a good husband,” I whisper, watching my father’s eyes widen with horror as he realizes his fate. And for the first time in my life, I feel truly powerful.

The air is thick with the acrid scent of gasoline, and I can almost taste the fear that radiates off my father. Penn’s eyes dance with a wicked glint as he toys with the lighter in his hand.

“Any last words?” he asks my father, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a sly grin. My heart races at the sight of him like this.

“Go to hell,” my father spits out, venom dripping from his voice.

“Already there, Johnny. Already there,” Penn retorts, flicking the lighter open with a satisfying click.

With a smooth, deliberate motion, Penn brings the fire closer to my father. The air crackles with tension as the flames leap hungrily onto him, igniting the gasoline-soaked fabric. His screams pierce the darkness, but I feel no sympathy, only a twisted satisfaction as he suffers for everything he’s done to me.

“Feel better now, baby?” Penn murmurs in my ear, his breath hot against my neck. I shudder involuntarily, caught between the horrors unfolding before me and the need between us.

“Strangely enough…I do,” I admit, my voice barely audible over the sound of my father’s anguished cries. It’s not the kind of justice I imagined. I don’t know what I expected years ago, but there’s something cathartic about watching the man who tormented me for so long finally burn to a crisp.

As we leave the warehouse together, hand in hand, I can’t help but feel elated.

“Well, I feel better,” Penn says as he hauls me up in the truck where Ramsey is waiting, eyes glued to his phone.

“You love me,” I reply, leaning into him. “And I can finally take a full breath.”

Penn smirks, grabbing me by the chin and dragging my face closer. “I had a feeling you’d say that,” he murmurs, lowering his lips to mine. “Because I do love you more than anything,” he murmurs when he pulls away. “And no one, except for me, will ever touch you again.”

“I love you too,” I tell him, leaning in for one more kiss before leaning back into the truck.

Ramsey looks up from his phone, a teasing grin spreading across his face as he opens his mouth to comment on Penn’s rare moment of vulnerability. But before he can get the words out, Penn levels a hard stare at his cousin, his eyes flashing dangerously.

“I’d think real careful about whatever smartass comment you were about to make if I were you, cuz,” Penn says, his voice low and threatening. “Unless you want me spilling all your dirty little secrets.”

Ramsey’s grin fades, his face paling at the mention of his discretions. “Alright, alright, point taken,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender before turning his attention back to his phone.

I no longer hear the screams or see the fire. I wonder how long a body burns before it goes out. Guess I’ll never know as I glance through the window as Penn drives right past the hangar that’s dissolving the last of my shame.