Still nothing.
“Did you want someone to help you when he locked you in a closet, again and again? Only that help never came?”
His lips began to tremble…
“Monsters can be made. You can get help, now. It’s not too late. You were just a kid back then?—”
His lips lifted into a full smile. “I don’t want help. I do want to watch the brother who had everything die.” He backed away. Swept his gaze over her, then ordered Eugene, “You grab her arms. I’ll take her feet. We’ll toss her in.”
“You…you’re not going to knock her out first?” Eugene didn’t move. “Give her some drugs to sleep and?—”
“No. My dad didn’t like to knock them out. Sometimes, he had to, in order to subdue his prey, sure. But he’d rouse them. Before they were sealed inside. He wanted to talk to them.” He stared straight at her, and Sloane knew what he was going to say, even before…
“Take a deep breath. Pray it’s not your last.”
Sloane shook her head. “Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to be like him.”
His gaze never wavered. “You’re going to be aware. Awake. For every single second. Now grab her arms, Eugene. Come on. You wanted to do this, didn’t you? You wanted to kill with me. Time to kill, my friend.”
Eugene lurched forward to grab her arms. Adam locked his hands around her calves.
Sloane wrenched her hands up out of the mud. Both hands held heavy gobs of mud, and she slung that mud right into Eugene’s face, aiming for his eyes. He yelled, and his hands automatically flew up to swipe away the mud.
She grabbed his gun. Yanked it right from the holster on his hip. With zero hesitation, she fired it right into Eugene. The bullet slammed into his stomach and he screamed, the sound high-pitched, desperate, and full of pain. He fell back.
She whipped the gun toward Adam.
Too late.
He’d grabbed the shovel. He slammed it into her hands. She heard bones break as she dropped the weapon. It sank into the mud. But Sloane didn’t scream. She didn’t cry out.
He lifted that shovel up. “I could kill you right now. Drive this down right into your throat.” And he held the sharp edge of the shovel over her. Inches from her neck. He smiled.
Eugene whimpered behind him.
“But I won’t.” Adam moved the shovel to the side. Away from her neck. “Because you should suffer more. Longer. You should?—”
Someone hit him. Fast. Hard. A tackle. A powerful body slammed into Adam, and he flew away from her. He hit the ground, only to lurch back up and face off against?—
Preston. Preston was there.
Preston fired the gun in his hand. One bullet. Two. Three. Adam jerked back with each hit, and his feet slipped in the mud and gunk. His eyes widened as he began to fall, and he tumbled back, dropping into the grave that had been dug. Her grave.
He fell inside, and Sloane heard the thud when his body hit the wood of the coffin.
“Sloane!” Noble crouched in front of her. “Hold on, I’ve got you.” He whipped out a knife and sliced through the zip tie around her ankles.
Eugene wasn’t whimpering anymore. Why had he stopped?
“That bastard shot a deputy,” Noble said. “Poor deputy is bleeding everywhere?—”
He sliced through the zip tie around her wrists.
“I shot the deputy!” Sloane rushed to tell him. “Eugene is working with Adam?—”
Preston whirled toward them. His eyes widened. “Noble, down!”
Noble threw his body on top of Sloane.
