Daniel must have found a second wind because he spits blood at my feet. “You all will go to prison for this.”
I hold out my hand to stop Kane from moving forward. I pull the switchblade from my pocket, lean down, and plunge it into Daniel’s stomach. Daniel cries out and tries to pull back, but I keep him close with a hand on his shoulder. “That’s where you’re wrong. No one is going to see the inside of a prison cell. Not us and definitely not you.”
I leave my blade in him, stand up, and walk behind him. I grab the rope that is lying behind him. Van has already tied it in a noose. “Hold him,” I say toward the guys, and they move quickly, grabbing Daniel and making him kneel. I slip the noose over his head and tighten it around his neck. Using my hold on the rope, I pull his head back, his face aiming straight at the camera.
“Don’t,” Daniel says weakly. His air is being cut off by the rope. He starts to struggle against Van and Kane, but he grows weaker by the second.
“Alisha, Karla, Lux, Gwynne, and Ivy. You will never have to live another second in fear that this sick bastard is coming back. Right here, right now, I am fulfilling my promise to you. That I will get you the justice you deserve. While I can’t take the pain that this motherfucker inflicted on you, I can give you the peace of mind knowing that he is no longer able to hurt another innocent.”
Without another word, Kane lets go of Daniel, leaving Van to hold him. Daniel is close to passing out, so he is not putting up a fight. Kane comes around and takes hold of the rope as I move back in front of Daniel. I pull my blade from his stomach and move to his side, where I place it against his throat and push it in all the way. I’ve sharpened it to the point that the tendons,muscles, and veins give away like butter when I slice open his neck. Blood splashes everyone, but no one moves as we watch Daniel’s life drain from his body.
Once Daniel is dead, the cleanup starts. Kane goes and pulls his truck up to the bay doors. Van helps him load Daniel’s body in the back and covers him with a tarp. They bring in a power washer, and we hose down all the blood and bodily fluids left behind. We each take a gas can and dump them inside the building. They load up the camera and light while I gather the rope.
“I’ll take his body to my farm and feed him to the pigs,” Kane says, and I offer him nothing but a nod.
“I’ll show the girls this,” Van says, holding up the camera. “And then I will destroy it along with the rope and his clothes.”
“Great doing business with you,” I say, pulling out a match, striking it against the side of the box and throwing it to the ground. I turn around and head back toward my car.
Van hollering for me to wait makes me pause and turn back toward them. “Thank you for everything.”
“Yeah, seriously, thank you,” Kane says, standing beside Van.
“No problem. Take care of the girls, and you know where to find me if you need anything.”
Nothing else is said as we get into our own vehicles and move on with our lives. My time in this town is up, and it’s time to move on. I stop a mile down the old, abandoned road and pull over. I strip off my blood-soaked clothes and gloves, then clean my face with the wipes I keep in the car. I wrap the clothes and gloves in a black trash bag and shove them in the duffle bag in my back seat. I know the perfect way to get blood out by now.
It’s pushing two in the morning, but I’m so amped up on adrenaline that I decide to drive for a couple more hours before crashing. I like driving at night; there is less traffic, and the darkness has become my comfort place. I used to be different.I loved being the center of attention. I loved going out during the day, socializing, and using any excuse to be seen by as many people as possible. But not now. Now, I’d rather sleep the day away and do everything under the cover of the night for many reasons, but the main one is because I’m supposed to be…
DEAD.
Chapter
Two
TARA
The thing about driving is that it gives our brains time to think, and like usual, mine loves to think about everything that has happened since that fateful night a year ago—well, a year ago tomorrow. I don’t like to think about the brutal rape that I had to endure. Therefore, my mind usually skips to the moment I woke up, disorientated.
Everything hurts. Pain shoots behind my eyes with every breath I take, and I pray that the darkness comes back to take me away from here. The last thing I remember is a burning pain exploding in my stomach and then nothing but darkness. How that pain has spread to the rest of my body is a mystery, and I really don’t want to have to solve it. Slowly, I blink my eyes and move my arms, hoping that the tiny movements won’t cause more pain.
Of course, it does, but I need to figure out where the hell I am and find a way back home. Reed and Gabe must be going out of their minds with worry. Well, Reed will be, but I don’tknow about Gabe. Considering the last time I saw him, we were fighting because some random guy flirted with me while we were out. Gabe accused me of enjoying the attention and bringing it on myself. Sobs start to build inside my chest at the thought of losing him for good.
“Take it easy. You’ve been through the wringer,” a voice I can only describe as angelic says.
I turn toward the voice and see a woman sitting in a chair beside the twin-size bed I’m currently lying on. I won’t even try to guess how old she is, but she can’t be much older than me. Her burnt-red hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. She has a few laugh lines around her dark brown eyes.
“Where am I?” I ask, my throat dry, making my words come out low and rough.
The stranger gets up and grabs a bottle of water off a nightstand. I wrap my lips around the straw and take a small drink. “My house. I guess I should introduce myself. I’m Ava.”
“Tara,” I tell her after laying my head back on the pillow. “How did I get here?”
“My husband found you four days ago.” Ava pulls the chair closer to the bed before sitting back down.
I look around the room, not that it will help me know exactly where I am. The walls are a muted blue in color and bare of any pictures. There is a small three-drawer dresser on the wall in front of me. That’s it beside the bed, the chair, and a bedside table.
“What is the last thing you remember?” Ava’s question pulls my attention back to her.
