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Declan wiped at his nose and leveled hard eyes on me. “You haven’t won.”
I hadn’t won? Oh, yeah, I fucking had. “You’re wrong,” I said.
He actually grinned when he said, “We’ll see about that.”
He walked out while I stood fuming, so getting the call from my mother, only minutes later, did not help my mood. Looking back on it, I shouldn’t have taken it. Hindsight being what it was, that was the string that, when pulled, set the rest of what happened in motion. It would be years and years later when I would accept that had I not taken that call, I wouldn’t have changed the outcome, just postponed the tragedy, one that would have likely hit me even closer to home.
Harry answered the phone. “It’s your mom.”
I heard the skepticism in his voice because, since I’d come to live with him, I hadn’t heard shit from either of my parents. I took the phone; we shared a look, before I said into it, “Yeah.”
“I need to see you.” It was the thread of fear I heard in her voice that weakened me, called to the very small part of me that wanted a relationship with my parents. Maybe not like what Cedar shared with hers, but something. I had plans with Cedar tonight. I wasn’t changing them so I said, “I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“Could you come now?” Her voice broke before she practically begged. “Please.”
It hit me then. I wasn’t there. Had my dad started taking his rage out on her? My mom had never been a mom, but a man should never raise his fists to a woman. “I’m on my way.”
Before I even hung up, Harry questioned me, “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“She sounds scared.”
“Let me come with you then.”
It meant a lot that he offered, but I didn’t want to drag him into the bullshit that was the Callahan family drama. “I’m okay, but thanks.”
He didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue. “You need me, I’m a call away.”
“Thanks.”
I reached my car just as Dax and some of his brothers were rolling in. “Want to talk to you,” he said.
“I’m heading home. Think my mom’s in trouble.”
Dax said nothing, that hard gaze on me, just before he gave me a chin lift.
I second-guessed what I was doing, voluntarily going into the lion’s den, but when I reached home, my dad’s car wasn’t there. I pulled into the driveway then into one of the garages, the action so second nature to me.
When I entered the house, it was quiet. The lights weren’t on; the blinds were drawn. There was a smell to the place…stuffy; the morbid thought hit me that it smelled liked a tomb.
“Mom,” I called out.
No answer. I walked into the living room, saw the half-drunk bottle of wine on the table, an empty glass next to it, but my mom wasn’t there. What the fuck?
I called out again but was only answered with silence. Fuck this. I turned to leave and that was when I felt the sharp pain explode in my head, as my legs went weak and I dropped to my knees. My hand moved to the throbbing pain in my skull and came back with blood. It was then I saw my father, standing over me, looking like the demon he was. I almost charged him, shouldering him in the stomach and taking him down, but then I saw the gun.
“Did you really think I was going to let you walk away?” he sneered. “You forget who I am and what I’m capable of.” He turned his back on me and strolled to the bar, like he hadn’t just struck me in the fucking head with a gun. “There’s a plan here. If you’d been paying attention, you would know that.” He reached for his favorite bottle of whiskey and poured himself a heavy three fingers. “Personally, I wouldn’t give a fuck if you got hit by a car tomorrow.” I hated him, didn’t care about his opinion, and yet, hearing those words from him hit as hard as the gun to the head. “You’re a disappointment, but you’re also a means to an end.” He finished his drink, placed the glass down. “You’re not going anywhere and neither is your girlfriend.”
My heart stopped. I felt the blood drain from my face. How did he know anything about Cedar’s plans? “Leave her out of this.”
“She’s in it. You put her there.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“You even think about leaving, and I’ll make it very difficult for you and for her.”
All the years I’d put up with his abuse, all the years of torment, but him directing that on Cedar snapped something inside me. I charged him. Hitting him hard in the gut, knocking both the gun from his hand and the air from his lungs. I didn’t stop there, though. My fists connected with his face, over and over again. He was strong, throwing me back, before lunging, getting in a few good hits to my face and ribs. I hit back, and for the first time, heard his bones break, saw his blood splatter. I think it was that, which had me releasing it, the monster that lived deep inside of me; the one that had been formed by the very man I was beating on. I charged, knocked him to the ground, straddled him and didn’t let up. Even when he went still, my fists continued.
It was the sight of the blood all over my hands, a pool of it under my dad’s head that had me stopping. I felt the sticky wet on my face, looked into eyes that were staring back but not seeing. I killed him. I stood. Shock kicked in, so did fear. My stomach lurched, and I threw up. What happened next felt as if it dragged on, but it happened so quickly, too quick to really process what was happening. I reached for my phone and called Sage. I didn’t let her answer. “I fucked up,” I whispered. “Fuck, Sage. I really fucked up.” Tears I hadn’t realized were filling my eyes, were rolling down my cheeks. “I killed him.”
