My eyes took a moment to get used to the dim light down here, and when they did, I noticed Father’s hunched figure on the cot in the last cell.
Rattling breathing filled the room. The shuffling of my shoes and my own rapid breathing caused a pause in my father’s. The strong stench of decay filled my nose, triggering revulsion and memories from a past neither Nestore nor I could escape. I crossed the distance with purposeful steps but stopped two arm’s length from the bars. The gun felt cool against my belly. It steadied me, but at the same time, the idea of using it terrified me.
“Have you finally come to save me from your husband’s brutal hands?”
I was glad for the dim light so I couldn’t make out more than the schemes of my father’s face. “No. Whatever Nestore has done to you, you deserved it. You turned him into the brutal hand that now tortures you. Without your cruelty, none of this would have happened.”
“Spoken like your pitiless husband. What has become of you, Amelia?”
“You locked me in a basement. You had me tortured and humiliated. That’s what happened.Youhappened.”
“Then why are you here if not to free me? Do you want an apology for what I’ve done? Do you want to see me cower with repentance?”
I smiled bitterly even as my heart clenched tightly. How could this man be my father? His blood ran in my veins. The idea alone made me feel sick to my stomach.
I reached under my dress and pulled out the gun from my waistband.
Father sat up straighter and cackled. “Have you come to kill me?”
I swallowed. “Yes.” The admittance felt good.
He cackled again. “Your husband will punish you if he finds out. He doesn’t want me dead. You’d be doing me a favor.”
I didn’t want to do this for him.
Was he manipulating me?
It didn’t matter. My decision was made. I wouldn’t back out now. I wouldn’t get another chance. My fingers around the gun tightened as I approached the bars. My heartbeat pounded so loudly, it echoed in my ears.
I didn’t look into my father’s eyes. I didn’t want a last goodbye. There was nothing left to say between us. Yet I couldn’tmove. I felt suspended between my need to end this and my fear of what this murder would do to me.
It would save Nestore.
I put the barrel through the bars, aimed down at the cot, and squeezing my eyes shut, I fired until theclick clickof the chamber told me I had run out of bullets. I gasped for breath when the last shot faded, and silence reigned around me. The rattling breathing was no more.
An act of pity? Or an act of selfishness? Or an act of love for Nestore?
Maybe a little of all three. I couldn’t think clearly anymore.
Steps thundered down the stairwell.
My eyes fluttered open, briefly catching on the slumped corpse before they darted down the hallway to the back door.
The door swung open and slammed against the wall. Nestore’s tall form loomed in the doorway, naked except for his black fur coat and a long knife in his hand. My dark avenging angel who had fallen so deep. Why was he here?
“Amelia! What have you done?” he roared as his eyes settled on the cage.
He rushed toward me and jerked me away from the bars. He stared at the remains of my father, but I only looked at him, hoping for a flicker of relief on his face. There was only fear and terror.
“What. Have. You. Done?” he asked in a hushed whisper, which scared me more than his rage. His eyes met mine, his almost black with anguish and fury.
“I ended it.” I swallowed. “For you. For me.”
He stalked toward me and gripped my shoulders. “You did this for him!”
“No!” I touched his cheek, my palm against another scar my father had inflicted on him. “I did this for you, Nestore. Because as long as he lived, you weren’t free. Even if he was in yourhands, he held power over you by existing. Every time you went to torture him, a little less of you returned to me. I had to do it or lose you.”
“Lies!” Nestore growled, his fingers digging into my flesh.
