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“I am, but at least, I’ll have rid the world of another monster. Say hi to Aram Wraith from me. I’ll see him when I die.”
I pour the bottle’s contents over Hugh’s head, and he burns away, turning into crisp. His cries die out slowly, the poison working its way into his veins.
Hugh melts in front of me. His face isn’t identifiable by the time the acid’s snuck into his lungs. He stinks, and I’m glad that Fylox’s mask works wonders. I don’t have to inhale the mess I’ve created.
I’ll live with this image for the rest of my life like I’ve lived with countless other deaths I’ve caused. I’ll paint over this one with my doe’s smile, though. A smile this pervert won’t disrupt ever again.
I don’t take off my mask until I exit the house. The bottle’s in my hand because I like to keep souvenirs. The numbing silence that once surrounded this mansion is disrupted. Aaliyah plays, thudding through my system. The kid sits in the front seat, bumping to my favorite music. What the hell? The car’s not supposed to go on without my thumb.
Climbing into my car, I instantly see a backpack and a stuffed turtle on top of it. Two strong arms wrapped around both. The girl’s dressed from head to toe, and she belts out my favorite song by Aaliyah.
I turn it down, and the kid gasps. “Hey! I was listening to that!”
“What do you know about Aaliyah, huh?” I ask, turning the engine on. “Put your seatbelt on.”
“I know that you stink!” The girl pouts, clutching her stuffed turtle.
“Sorry. I was busy with murder. That tends to affect personal hygiene,” I sneer. Before pulling out of Hugh’s driveaway, I sent the clean-up team a message. Hugh’s corpse is ready to go.
To my surprise, the girl bursts into laughter. We pass by the Hole Store, and I hope that she doesn’t look at it. She’s not from around here, and I don’t want to explain. Kids from overseas don’t and shouldn’t understand what goes on in Katantia.
“Can you please turn the music back on? She… She calms me down,” Carey Jean begs me once she’s had enough of a laughing fit.
“You know what, kid? I can relate to that.”
I flip the switch, blasting Aaliyah as I accompany the kid to the palace where her friends are waiting for her. I keep an eye on her as I drive, and what I see troubles me. I want to forget what I witnessed when I stormed Hugh’s house, but I know I shouldn’t.
I’ve seen those empty, sunken eyes before.
The clogged-up throat… She sings along to my Aaliyah, but there’s a tension in her voice that makes me uncomfortable. I see through her amused smile because it’s not real. She’s happy to listen to her favorite music, but she’s using it as a distraction from what just happened to her—what’s possibly been happening for a while.
Outside of the music, there’s silence. That doesn’t change when we pass the gates at the palace. I make this one exception—nobody touches the girl. Not even to make sure she’s not carrying a bomb. I witnessed her suffering. I don’t want to add to that.
I park my car, and Carey Jean hops out of it with her stuffed turtle in hand. I had a son, but I vaguely remember that at fifteen, kids hate stuffed animals. They’re busy with high school and grades. Not stuffed animals and perverts.
When Kamila appears at the palace entrance, Carey Jean stares at her pregnant belly with fascination. Mechanically, Carey introduces herself to Kamila, Alex, and Fylox. Kamila’s men hover in the back, aware of the kid’s trauma. They give her enough room to breathe.
The kid doesn’t speak to us as we get her settled in a room with food and all the other amenities she could ask for. Kamila, Fylox, Alex, and I leave her to rest.
“One less monster,” I say as we make our way to Kamila’s office.
“We have to keep going,” Fylox adds. When we use the staircase and Kamila’s around, he all but carries her so that she doesn’t have a freak accident. “Undoubtedly, they’ll never stop.”
“Are you sure you can trust her friends? Who are they?” I ask, worried about the underage girl that we’re not handing over to her parents—because they don’t care.
“They’re the only family she has. Her mom let her spent time with Abbott, and her dad’s busy in NYC,” Fylox explains. “Once our guests wake up, I’ll hear it again from their side, but they should be good to go.”
“I trust Grey’s judgment,” Kamila comments.
I ask, “Who’s Grey?”
“Kamila’s current girl crush,” Alex informs me.
“Girl crush?” I raise my eyebrows. “Should I—”
“No, Dad. Her hormones are driving her nuts,” Alex explains, chuckling.
“I can speak for myself!” Kamila intervenes. She’s as red as her hair when she’s not pregnant. “It’s not… Okay, maybe my hormones are adding to my imbalance. But I believe Grey and her men have Carey Jean’s best interests at heart. They’ll help her get emancipated so that her mom doesn’t have any power over her, and they’ll make sure Carey gets the therapy she needs. Grey and one of her men go to therapy like we do. They’re good people. Her two men traveled across the world for a child that’s not even theirs.”
