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“Yes.” Her eyes seemed brighter, almost glowing from the effect of my saliva.
Maybe Reapers started the legend of the vampire. I didn’t doubt it when I heard dark laughter echoing in the wind.
Fucking Lucifer.
I wasn’t sticking around for him to show up. I already reaped every soul that showed up tonight except for Bruiser since Skyla took care of him on her own.
Such pretty, perfect justice.
Poetic. Intoxicating. Mesmerizing to watch.
We rode the short distance to Tonopah, rolling up to the gates of the compound when a limousine approached, parking only a few feet from where my bike idled. I could guess who it belonged to when Skyla stiffened behind me.
The driver opened his door, climbing out quickly to open one for the passenger. Senator John Mitchell stood tall, buttoning the pristine suit jacket he wore as his gaze settled on Skyla.
“Missy. I’ve missed you, honey.”
I bet. The fucking prick.
“Ready to come home?”
She climbed off the bike, facing him with an expression that nearly made my blood run cold, if that were possible. Knowing what she endured, I couldn’t fault her for wanting to finish what she began tonight. Vengeance burned deep in her bones, and who was I to stop her?
She reached behind her back, and I handed her the knife. She clutched it, gripping the handle so hard that her knuckles turned white.
“You know,” I began low, whispering in her ear. “If you want, we can send his soul to hell.”
“Will he suffer?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Forever,” I promised.
Her smile widened, and I took a step back, giving her space to decide his fate. Few had the opportunity to exact revenge so thoroughly.
“Daddy, I’ve got something for you.”
He held out his hand. “Come with me. Everything will be fine.”
He must have thought that his money and connections could save him. Or perhaps he deceived himself into thinking all the fucked up shit he did to his daughter wouldn’t turn her into a monster. The thing was, we were all capable of becoming monsters. It only took one choice to make it possible.
Skyla was no monster, but she did deserve to have closure.
A wild roar pulsed from her chest as she ran to her father, lifting the knife. He backed up, bumping into the hood of the limo as she reached him, his body quaking with fear.
“You feel that?” she asked, staring into his eyes. “That terror?”
He swallowed but didn’t answer.
“That’s what I felt every time you entered my room. Every single time Bowie or one of your friends touched me and forced me to have sex.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You always were a little slut.”
Skyla laughed, shaking her head. “No, but I am now, for that big scary biker. He’s my ride-or-die. I love him,” she announced, shocking the hell out of me. “And he’s going to send you to hell, so I don’t ever have to think of you ever again.”
She dropped the knife, smiling as if the cares of the world tumbled from her shoulders, crashing to the ground in thousands of tiny pieces, utterly destroyed.
