There was no protection in this world. No safety.
No justice.
No kindness or mercy or warmth.
Everything good existed only to be taken and destroyed by those we loved most.
“Max, how could I ever forgive you for this?”
The front door slammed. Nicholas called for me. Max rose, wiping only some of his tears with his hand. Nicholas and Reed burst within the room.
But there was nothing to say. Max didn’t look at his brothers. He didn’t apologize anymore.
There was no reason to try.
The door closed behind him.
I never wanted to see him again.
I had no idea what I would do to him if he ever returned.
Reed retreated, patting Nicholas’s shoulder. I didn’t want to speak to either of them, but I knew what was coming.
The same thing that always came after disaster.
The promises. The vows.
Nicholas didn’t look away from me. He never would.
“I was going to propose to you tonight.” Nicholas’s words spoke a mournful finality. As if the dream was lost. “I had a wedding planned. Something spontaneous and beautiful. I wanted Bumper to have a family from the instant she was born.”
“She would have had a family.”
“I can’t begin to explain, and I can’t rationalize what my father did to your brothers.”
“I wasn’t talking about Josiah and Mike.”
Nicholas paused. I met his gaze. The gold dimmed, dull, almost extinguished into murky brown.
“Had they not died, none of this would have happened. I’d be safe, on the farm, in college. Still hating you. But I wouldn’t have her.”
I didn’t know if that was better or worse, but the sheer terror of those minutes without her reassuring bump were crippling. I’d have nightmares of that dread again, more nightmares of losing her than I ever had of Darius and his attack.
“Max didn’t know who was on the plane,” Nicholas said. “We didn’t realize until it happened.”
“You kept it from me.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to me.”
“No. You believed my father killed Mark Atwood, not his sons.”
And still he played these games. He still didn’t understand.
“I can’t believe you think that makes it better,” I said.
“You were in such pain from their deaths. So angry. So vulnerable. Sarah, you are the strongest person I know, but you’d never have forgiven us if I told you the truth. And I can’t survive losing you.”
“You wanted me to trust you. To love you. To marry you.”
“I still want those things.” He let the words linger. “What is it you want?”
As if he had to ask. As if he didn’t already know.
As if Max hadn’t fled from me for that exact reason.
The answer came reflexively, so easily it actually frightened me in its bloody simplicity.
“I want my revenge.”
“I wondered when you’d show your face.” Dad wasn’t a subtle man, not when he had something to gain.
Not when he had someone to punish.
He always was a Grade-A asshole. Thought so when I was a kid and confirmed it when I reached adulthood. But it took me a while to realize what a perverted bastard he truly was.
The worst part was that I wanted to be like him for so long I forgot how to be myself. By the time I thought to check on that fucker reflected in the mirror, I saw exactly what I wanted all along.
Him.
Made a man want to shave his neck just a little too close.
“Where’s Bethany Atwood?” I asked. I hadn’t seen my step-mother when I kicked my way into the house. Also hadn’t seen any holes dug in the yard where he might've stashed her body.
“Don’t tell me you’re concerned?” Dad folded his palms over his desk. He leaned in just to make me tense.
“I don’t want to talk about shit that’ll upset her.”
He sighed. “She’s not here.”
“You kill her?”
“She’s my wife.”
Didn’t stop him from hurting her daughter. I shrugged.
“Your step-mother is a very sick woman.” He almost seemed to care. “I meant to move her to the estate to care for her…and I had hoped that given the current circumstances of my retirement I might have spent more time with her. Unfortunately, the change was difficult for her, and her routine was altered. Her dementia was worse than we anticipated.”
“So where is she?”
“I’ve secured her the best assisted living arrangements. A private nursing company is with her, around the clock.” He checked his watch. “Of which I was scheduled to visit in an hour, so grovel quickly, Maxwell.”
Sarah was going to flip shit. “You put her in a nursing home?”
“A nursing home is for the elderly and infirm. Bethany is at the farm.” He waved a hand. “So get on with it. You didn’t come here to discuss Bethany Atwood and I presume you aren’t intending to shove more charcoal down my throat.”
Only if he’d choked on it.
“Let me guess. Your little sister didn’t take the news of her brothers’ deaths well?”
“No.”
“Was she upset?” Dad had gotten off on her tears too many times.
The question didn’t surprise me. My reaction did.
Why I was here surprised me more.
“Yeah, she was upset.”
“And?”
“She was worried about Bump—the baby. Got too worked up.”
His sneer darkened. His gnarled hands untwisted themselves as he pushed from the desk. He wasn’t that big of a man, not in relation to me, even with a leg that fucking hurt just from the brush of my jeans against my hip and knee.
Why had we ever let this bastard frighten us? Beat us?
Even Sarah should have fought better than she did.
Then again, she was smarter than me. Braver. Stronger, despite the asthma. If she had resisted him, he’d have murdered her instead. I would have taken the bullet to the head, but that was me.
I endured enough shame in this life. Couldn’t take much more.
Couldn’t handle it now.
“The bitch is having a girl child, isn’t she?”
Dad waited for my response. What point was there in lying? It was over anyway, either for her or me.
Except I wasn’t ready for the end yet.
“Yeah. It’s a girl.”
I didn’t expect him to swear, but the frustration escaped in a single moment.
“Damn.” The word hissed. His expression radiated hatred. “And she didn’t tell Daddy what the gender was.”
I shivered. The goddamned incest was as bad as raping the girl.
“She thought you’d kill the baby if you knew.”
“Oh, I will,” he said. “She’s right, of course. Had she behaved, had she been even the least bit trustworthy, she would have lived if she promised to try again. Unfortunately, your sister is difficult.”
“Yeah. She’s a firecracker.”
Dad chuckled. “Say it, Max. She’s a cunt. You fucked it enough, even if you were too worthless to impregnate the girl without my help.”
“Right. That’s me. Good for fucking nothing.”
“I see what this is. I know what the problem is, son.”
He never called me son. Not since before I walked with a limp. Nicholas was his son. Not me. Not Reed. Even if I had knocked Sarah up, Nick would have gotten credit anyway.
“Tell me, Maxwell, how does it feel to be reviled?”
It wasn’t a new feeling. Not many people had respect for me when my knuckles weren’t scraped and dripping blood. Again, that honor went to Nicholas.
Still, the only person I tried to impress, the only one I ever wanted to protect, was the little Atwood who fought me and my brothers every fucking chance she got.
Like she wanted to make it harder on us. She should have just been honest.
She wanted a reason to hate the men she was taught to hate.
“She’ll want to kill me,” I said.
“Of course she will. She’s Mark Atwood’s brat. Vengeful little thing.”