When I look at Dean again, he’s scowling at Shane, jaw ticking.
“There was a house fire,” Shane says, stepping away from me.
Memories of firemen wrapping me in a silver blanket, far away from the smoke pluming out of our home, flash into my mind. A ten-year-old Shane sitting next to me, hugging me close as he whispers in my ear that I’d killed Daddy.
“Mum died quite a few years ago now. She fell asleep with a cigarette in her hand,” he says indifferently. “The whole place went up in flames.”
I take a deep breath, hit with conflicting emotions of anger and grief. It should hurt more than this, but I resent her. Out of everyone, she should have been able to see what Shane was doing. She was an adult, and we were only ten when it started. She ignored us both and drank because she was selfish. She created an environment where a psychopath had no consequences, and then she let a fucking paedophile into the home, too. If she ever loved me, I don’t remember it, and I can’t help but feel a weight lifted knowing she’s gone.
My tears stay locked up, and I get my breathing somewhat under control. Teddy’s fingers twitch as he starts to come around, and I breathe a little easier.
“Of course you’re not sad about her death,” Shane taunts. “The police believed it was an accident, of course. Just like they did when Dad died.”
“You’re a crazy fuck, Shane. Untie him!” Teddy shouts, making me jump. His hand clasps onto mine again, and I focus on the warmth of it.
“Me?” Shane asks, eyes wide with innocence.
“You,” Teddy snaps. “Let us go and then leave. Fuck off back to England. We haven’t told the police about the parcel you left Bailey. No one knows what you did to me. No one knows you abused your brother,” he grits out. “And no one knows you killedyour own father when you were ten years old,” he says with a little less confidence.
The ‘what if’ that lingered in my mind, the not knowing whether I played a part in my dad’s death dissipates as I watch Shane's nostrils flare and his jaw clench. He really did lie to me—made me believe I was sick when all of it was him. Hot tears slip down my cheeks as I gasp for air.
“Deep breaths, mo leannan. I’ll make sure you get out of this,” Teddy whispers low enough that Shane and Dean don’t seem to hear him.
Shane reaches behind his back and pulls a knife out. The metal glints in dim lighting, and I recoil as he stalks towards me, pressing as far back into the post as I can.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dean barks as he gets between the two of us. He pushes Shane back and pulls out a knife of his own. “I agreed to deal with the Scot, but Bailey’s off-limits.”
“Off-limits?” Shane asks calmly. “I suggest you get your filthy hands off me.” The look in Shane’s eyes is murderous as he looms over Dean.
Dean hesitates and lowers his knife. “You promised that once this was over, I’d get to?—”
Shane grins. “I don’t need you anymore. The police are looking for both of us becauseyoufucked up.Yougot caught at work stealing the propofol.Youdidn’t bury the last body well enough. Did you want to get caught, Dean? Did your conscience finally kick in? Tell me. What do you feel more guilty for, raping all those boys and men, or playing a part in their murder? You should be grateful I didn’t leave you in that house to burn with my mother. It’s more than you deserved.”
“What I deserved?” Dean splutters, finally holding his ground.
“Yes, what you deserve! You fucked my brother.”
Teddy jerks against the ropes behind me, and I hear a low growl in his throat. “Is that your fucking stepfather?”
Shane faces me and raises his voice. “Bailey ismine.He has been since the moment we shared a womb. Mine to play with, mine to fuck with, mine to break.”
My jaw is clenched so tight that a sharp pain shoots through my jaw. Shane’s head whips back to Dean. “I don’t like people touching my things, Dean. Do you really think I’d go through this much trouble to get my brother back just to—what? Hand him over to you and be on my way?” Shane gets closer and manages to spin Dean around. He pins him in place, pressing the knife to his neck.
Dean drops his own knife and struggles to get free until a drop of blood is drawn. He goes stock-still. “Shane … he wanted me to do it. I-I wouldn’t have?—”
“I couldn’t care less if he begged on his knees for you. You still did it, and you’d wanted to for a long time, hadn’t you?” he snarls. “I knew what you were doing—fixing him up after I ruined him, letting your hands wander. I let you get away with it because you sped up his healing time, meaning more playtime for me. But the night I caught you fucking him, I wanted to kill you. I was going to. But then Bailey ran away, and I thought maybe, just maybe, you could be useful.” Shane drags Dean back so that they’re standing right in front of me.
“Well, now you’re not, and you’re shit out of luck.”
“What’s happening?” Teddy whispers.
I can’t answer him. Dean’s face has paled and his wide eyes are boring into mine. Teddy squeezes my hand, but I can’t squeeze back. Shane talking about how Dean raped me like it was nothing, like I wanted it, makes my stomach roil. I swallow, trying to stop myself from throwing up.
“You really shouldn’t have touched what’s mine, Dean.”
I close my eyes, refusing to look, but when I hear a choked gurgle, they open without my permission. There’s a deep, jagged gash in Dean’s neck, and blood spurts out, hitting my bare chest. I reel back, forgetting there’s nowhere for me to go. I’m screaming in my head for someone to get the blood off of me; the heat of it feels like it’s burning through my skin. It’s worse than having him touch me again. It’s never going to come off.
I’m vaguely aware of Teddy hushing me, trying to give me any comfort he can, but it’s pointless. Shane drops Dean to the floor with a heavy thud, and it takes a monumental amount of effort to drag my eyes away from his twitching body. Blood pools beneath him, spreading outwards.
