Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 707(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Nope. Not today.
“To the wall,” I order, keeping my voice cold and steady.
He turns slowly, extending his arms in a mocking gesture of martyrdom. “Just shoot me.”
“A bullet’s too good for you.” I jerk the gun toward the iron shackles embedded in the stone wall. Dark stains trickle over the bumpy stones—proof of the years of suffering that’s happened in this room. “Strip off your shirt.”
He slowly works the buttons loose. I can’t even take pleasure in the shaking of his hands. I just want this over with.
I’ve dreamed about this day. Planned it. Obsessed over it. Fantasized about it every day since the first time he marched me into this basement and chained me to that wall.
I told myself I’d savor each lash and warm my hands with his blood.
But now?
I wish I’d taken Jezzie and left. I wish I was on the road. At Rooster’s place.
Anywhere but here.
No.
I caught him trying to drown my sister. He deserves this.
“God will punish you for this,” my father hisses, glaring at me.
I shove him forward. “How do you know he didn’t send me here to punish you?”
“I’m his loyal, humble servant.”
“Loyal and humble are two things you’ve never been, old man.” I lower the gun slowly, aiming first at his left knee, then his right, finally settling at his groin. “Strip off your shirt now. Or I’ll put a few holes in you and then chain you to the wall. Your choice.”
“I should have known the wickedness could never been driven out of you. I should’ve broken you when I had the chance.”
A cold shudder races down my spine, memories exploding through my mind—the burning pain, chains biting into raw wrists, dark isolation, prayers whispered to deaf ears, my baby sister bringing me scraps of food and tending to my injuries.
“I caught you trying to drown my sister,” I remind him, my voice cold as steel. “Trying to drown a little girl. That’s evil. Stop fucking around and move.”
He flinches at the curse. Like most hypocrites, a word offends him more than evil acts. My resolve to punish him returns.
Wordlessly, he shuffles toward the wall. His shoulders slump, as if he’s accepted his fate.
The quick acceptance triggers my internal alarms.
I step back a second before he whirls around, throwing a fist where my face had been two seconds ago.
The punch arcs wildly, throwing him into a half-spin. I cock my arm back and smash the gun into the side of his head, knocking him to the floor.
“Nice try.” I stand over his dazed body. “I’m not a malnourished kid anymore. And I’m not afraid of you.”
“You need to fear the Lord.”
“I fear nothing,” I inform him. “You still have that vault in your office?”
Breathing hard, he raises his eyebrows as if he’s surprised I know of its existence.
“Gideon showed it to me when we were little,” I explain. Gideon. My big brother who let me tag along on all of his adventures, then one day just disappeared.
His jaw drops.
“Is that why you killed him?” I ask, taking a stab in the dark. “He knew about all the money you were hiding?”
His mouth snaps shut and his gaze slides away.
My stomach lurches. Gideon disappeared a long time ago. Father said he chose the devil and left the family. I was so angry at my brother for leaving, I didn’t give his departure a lot of thought. I accepted what I was told.
Only later did I wonder.
And now. That guilty look creeping across my father’s face seems to confirm my suspicions.
A solid whipping later, he still won’t give up the code to the vault.
Breathing hard, he slowly turns his head and fixes the full weight of his preacher stare on me. “You won’t win, son.”
“Don’t call me son.” I flick my wrist, cracking the whip over his shoulder blades. Hard enough to sting but not draw more blood. “Boone and Emily treated me more like a son than you ever did.”
Why the fuck are they gone when this sick bastard’s still alive and torturing children?
“Do your worst, Jensen. The Lord will protect me.”
“If there was a god, he wouldn’t protect a child abuser.” I step back, the whip slipping from my numb fingers, disgust churning in my gut. “Especially one who won’t admit his sins.”
He narrows his eyes and spits out, “Whoever spares the rod hates their children, but the one who loves their children is careful to discipline them.”
Brutal flashbacks slam into me as he utters the same words he used to justify torturing me as a kid.
“You know I’m right,” he says when I’ve been quiet for too long. His bitter laughter pulls me from the well of memories I’m slowly sinking into.
Enough of this shit.
I raise the Glock and steady it, aiming for his leg.
His twisted laughter stops. “You wouldn’t dare—”