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Reaching the door, I paused for a moment, the lighter’s cool metal casing pressing into my palm. Turning back, I locked eyes with Hank. He sat there, his bloated form lounging in the chair, a smug smile playing on his lips. For a moment, it felt like the world had come to a standstill. Hank, the room, the city outside—it was all bathed in an uncanny stillness, as if waiting with bated breath for what was to come.
“See you in hell, Hank,” I muttered, my voice barely a whisper. A final goodbye to the monster before me. Hank’s smile faltered, replaced by a look of confusion. But I didn’t stick around to see it evolve into realization.
In one swift movement, I flung the lit lighter over my shoulder. It spun in the air, a spinning orb of metal and flame, drawing an arc toward its destined end. I didn’t wait to see it land.
The explosion hit just as I stepped out into the cool night air. A monstrous roar filled the night, accompanied by a shockwave that ripped through the compound, shaking the earth beneath me. I fell to the ground and felt the heat of the inferno on my back, a hot breath from the hellfire that was consuming Hank’s den.
Glancing back over my shoulder, I saw the compound engulfed in a violent blaze. Flames clawed at the night sky, hungrily devouring everything in their path. Hank’s laughter was replaced by the scream of the inferno, a deafening sound that drowned out everything else. The compound, once a testament to Hank’s cruelty, was now a beacon of justice.
But there was no time to savor the sight, to relish in the retribution. Hank’s death was but the first step on a longer path, a single note in the symphony of vengeance that awaited. My heart pounded in my chest, a steady drum in the urgency of my mission.
I stood up and turned away from the blazing ruin, the heat of the flames becoming a distant warmth against my back. As I moved into the night, a single thought consumed me, driving me forward.
I had to find Jim Harlow. For Clover. For my mother. And for myself.
CLOVER
Jim Harlow drove in silence. The landscape outside the window was ablur, blanketed in darkness. I lost all sense of direction as the time passed, my anxiety reaching a fever pitch.
Eventually, the truck came to a halt in front of a decrepit old barn. The wood was weathered, the red paint chipped and faded. I trembled as I looked at it. It felt isolated, forgotten, a mirror to the chaos inside me.
“Out,” he ordered, his voice brooking no argument. I hesitated for a moment, my eyes flicking to the barn, then back to him. But his cold determination left no room for negotiation.
I stumbled out of the truck, the gravel biting into my bare feet. The chill in the air made me shake, the distant hoot of an owl echoing eerily in the silence. He came around to my side, his eyes scanning the area with a predatory edge.
“Now listen,” he said, his voice low and threatening. “You will do as I say, understand? Your life, your sister’s life, depends on it. Screw up and I won’t hesitate to pull the trigger. I killed Declan’s mother in this barn, and I won’t hesitate to kill you, too.” He smiled to himself, as if relishing in the memory. “Your father was so fucking romantic. Brought her to dinner, then they came out here. Probably fucked her on a bale of hay. Guess he didn’t want to bring that whore back home.”
I shivered in disgust.
“And maybe I’ll have some fun with you, too,” he rasped. “Maybe I’ll give your father one lastfuck you.”
The threat hung in the air between us, a terrifying promise. I trembled, the lump in my throat making it impossible for me to speak. I didn’t know what was going to happen next. All I knew was that I was far from home, far from Avery, far from Declan.
I was led into the barn, my eyes taking in the details in the dim light. Haystacks were piled up in the corners, their musty smell filling the air. A few old tools lay scattered around, their metallic gleam dull and forgotten. It was as if the barn hadn’t seen use in years.
The shovel in the corner of the barn caught my eye, its rusted edges bearing stories of hard labor and time. An involuntary spike of adrenaline surged through me as I contemplated its new sinister potential.
Jim huffed in annoyance, thrusting his phone back into his pocket. “Hank’s not picking up. But no worries,” he sneered, locking his cold gaze onto me. “Declan, that loyal mutt, he won’t be able to resist coming here. He always shows up.”
He leaned against a worn wooden pillar, crossing his arms over his chest. A cruel smirk twisted his lips as he began to share his gruesome plan. His words slithered through the chilly air, landing heavily in the silence of the barn.
“See, once that boy gets here,” he started, the light in his eyes dancing with sadistic delight, “I’ll be waiting for him. Maybe I’ll surprise him from behind, take this rusty old shovel”—he gestured toward the tool that had caught my attention earlier—“and swing it right at his head.”
His laughter bounced off the barn walls, a chilling sound that twisted my stomach into knots. “Or maybe, just maybe, I’ll go for a slower approach. I’ll tie him up, just like his dear old mom. Watch the fear build in his eyes. Just the way I like it.”
He paused, savoring the terror that must have shown on my face. “Oh, and don’t you worry. I’ll make sure you have the best seat in the house. You can watch as I tear him apart, bit by bit.”
His laughter filled the barn once more, echoing my rising fear. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. The terrifying image he painted was too much, too real. I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t let Declan walk into this nightmare. I had to act, had to find a way to prevent his dark plans from becoming a reality. With each laugh from Jim, my resolve hardened. I had to save Declan. And I had to do it soon.
Jim stalked closer, his breath a sickening cocktail of whiskey and stale smoke. He let out a low, cruel laugh, his eyes glinting with a sickening joy in the dim barn light. “Clover,” he drawled, letting my name hang in the air like a predator toying with its prey. “You know, I’ve been contemplating a fitting punishment for your little boyfriend, Declan.”
The echo of his words held a promise of sadistic intentions. “I bet you can’t even begin to imagine what I have in store for him. But first . . .” He paused, licking his lips. “You.”
I felt my blood run cold as he continued, his words painting a grotesque image. “Can you imagine, Clover? Declan watching while I . . .”
His sentence hung in the air, unfinished yet filled with the horrifying details left unsaid. A spark of rebellion ignited within me, a protective fury that blazed against the chilling terror. I remembered the feeling of violation, of being helpless, of being a plaything for a monster. I refused to live that nightmare again.
“No,” I muttered under my breath, my voice barely a whisper but firm with conviction.
