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Revenge.
“I’d ask you if you missed me, but I see you’ve been doing fine without me.” His eyes drop to my stomach. “You’vebothbeen doing just fine without me.”
I press my palms to my belly, backing up into Fallon.
Her hand clamps down on my arm.
“If you’re wondering, I’ve been doing just fine without you, too, Dakota,” he says conversationally. A grotesque smile twists his mouth. His gaze bounces to Fallon. “I’ve been having fun playing with your sister. Your pussy was nice, but hers is nicer.”
“Fuck you,” Fallon snarls.
Aiden steps closer. “I jerked off to you every night, Dakota. Jerked off after I fucked your little sister.”
“Stop,” I say on a sob. I want to clap my hands over Fallon’s ears. Block out the bastard’s voice. My sister will never get over this. “Stop it.”
I don’t want this awful memory for my sister. This guilt.
I reach for her. “It’s okay.”
“Don’t touch her,” Aiden orders. The gun bobs in his hand. “He’s good. I’ll give him that. He kept you on that ranch. I couldn’t get to you, so I had to find other ways.”
Fallon swears under her breath.
A chilling rage stains his voice. “I told you that I always win. I get what I want. And I want to take everything away from you, like you did to me. My money. My bakery. Mybaby.”
No.
His vile words are terrifying, and I wrap my arms around my belly. “Never,” I rasp. “He’ll never be yours.”
Aiden’s mask drops. “Tonight, you’re going to see just what exactly is mine.”
A noise down the hall freezes us all.
Fallon and I lock eyes.
Fear for our father.
Dad ambles into the living room and squints into the bright light. “What’s going on out here?”
Terror grips my heart.
“Daddy,” I gasp.
Fallon and I watch in horror as Aiden raises the gun and aims it at our father. A shot pops off, the silencer muffling the noise.
Stede crumples to the floor.
“No!” Fallon cries out.
“You bastard,” I hiss as I race across the room to our father. “Daddy,” I whisper, crouching beside him. Blood seeps through his pant leg.
Across the room, Fallon stands frozen.
Stede moans.
“Stay still.” I grab a towel from the coffee table and press it over the wound, hoping to staunch the blood. I can’t tell if it’s deep or a graze, and it terrifies me.
Relief fills me when Stede’s hand finds mine. His grip is strong.
