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“As soon as everyone arrives, I’ll pop a bottle of champagne, then fill the glasses already laced with liquid ecstasy, and make a toast. Once you lambs have passed out, I’ll prepare for your slaughter. First, I’ll strip each of you ladies naked, then tie all the guests up, nice and tight. Once the drug wears off…my fun begins. I think I’ll start withyourmother first,” he preened with a demonic grin.
As Wesley boasted about forcing everyone to watch the vile, horrific, and perverted things he planned to do—to me, my mother, and evenhis own—I wanted to grab Grant’s gun and put a bullet in Wesley’s head myself.
Of course, I knew Grant wouldn’t let me. The fury blazing in his blue eyes could have set the entire building on fire.
When Wesley finished gloating and grinning while laying out his repulsive scheme—with delight dancing in his eyes—I stared at him in stunned silence for several long seconds.
“Youdoknow you’re certifiably insane, right?”
His eyes bulged and the smile fell from his face. As Wesley dragged in a deep breath—and held it—every muscle in his body grew taut. The air in the room instantly grew thick with tension while his face grew redder and redder.
Grant gripped his gun tightly, then stepped in front of him—completely blocking me from the maniac’s view—before aiming the barrel at Wesley’s head.
“Close your eyes, Emma,” he instructed in a cold, flat, and deadly voice.
It was the first command I couldn’t follow.
Staring at Grant’s wide shoulders, I slowly stood. My body trembled, still weak from the drugs, so I gripped the back of the chair and peered around him.
The second I entered Wesley’s line of vision, he locked his dull, lifeless eyes on me.
Then, with a demonic roar, he lurched forward.
Terror crashed through me as I watched the legs of the chair lift from the ground. Wesley wobbled, but instead of toppling over, he bore down on his feet and righted himself.
Bent over like a bull, he roared and frantically slammed the frame of the chair—and his body—against the heavy oak table, like a battering ram.
“I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy,” Wesley screamed at the top of his lungs. “I don’t give a fuck what those doctors or my parents, say…I’m not crazy!”
Before I could even process the ramifications of his shocking words, the crack of wood echoed like a gong as the chair broke apart.
Arms still bound behind his back, Wesley stood upright and shook the splintered wood from his body. Then, like some unearthly entity from a horror movie, he looked at me and flashed a blood-stained smile.
“I’m not crazy,” he growled in a demonic voice, then licked his lips.
My heart sputtered and bounced off my ribs as an earthquake of terror shook my whole body.
“No, you’re fuckinginsane,” Grant scoffed, drawing his focus off me.
Whipping his evil glare to Grant, Wesley tossed his head back and screamed like a demon possessed. He then dropped his chin and pinned Grant with the same chilling, blood-stained smile before charging toward him.
With a feral growl, Grant pulled the trigger.
Slapping a hand over my mouth to hold in the scream clawing my throat, I squeezed my eyes shut——blocking out the carnage splattering the floor and walls—while the reverberation of the gunshot rattled my chest and echoed in my ears.
Blindly sliding back onto the chair, tears of relief and sorrow streamed down my face.
Relief that Wesley’s torment was over.
Sadness that Grant had to be the one to put him out of his misery.
Like a lifeline, he wrapped his strong arms around me and silently drew me to his chest. Murmuring reassuringly, he stroked his fingers against my back in tiny circles as I completely fell apart. Long minutes later, Grant scooped me into his arms and carried me into the living room. He eased onto the couch and settled me over his lap.
I dropped my head to his chest, nuzzled my cheek against his heart, and worked to stem my tears.
“I’m sorry, Emma,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry you had to see me kill him,”
He was beating himself up…still afraid I couldn’t handle his darkness.
