And now, I’m going to end him.
I slowly rise to my feet, swaying a little as I stand. Cole rushes to my side, but I wave him away.
I can handle this on my own.
Ineedto handle this on my own.
I approach him, and gone is the blank look from earlier. Gone is the cockiness. Gone is the man who held himself well.
He doesn’t even seem to care that his children are dead, but he does care about his own life.
His pupils are blown wide, and I can tell from the indent on his cheek that he’s biting it in an attempt to not speak.
“You took everything from me,” I say, my voice deadly calm. “Just like I took everything from you.” I glance around, looking at the bodies of two of his sons.
“But you didn’t care about them—not in the way I cared about my family. But you do care about dying. I can see the fear in your eyes, Callum, and I can’t wait to make all your worst fears a reality.”
Because other than dying, I know what a man like him is most afraid of.
He’s scared of the truth getting out.
And I’m going to air all of his dirty secrets for the world to see.
In my backpack, there’s a hard drive that I brought with me on the off chance I made it out alive. It will detail every scrap of evidence I’ve ever gathered against him and his family, and once the police find the bodies littering the estate, they’ll find the hard drive, too. The best part about it is it’s coded so that once the hard drive is inserted into a computer, the files will automatically be forwarded to every major news and media outlet in the country.
He struggles in Logan’s hold, and I nod towards him to tell him it’s okay for him to let go now. He doesn’t need to mark his soul with any more bloodshed tonight, the rest of it is on me.
Logan lets go, and Callum goes to make a run for it, but before he can, I kick out and knee him in the stomach, making him drop to the floor so he’s kneeling at my feet.
“Please,” he whispers, grabbing onto his stomach. “Please don’t kill me.”
“You’re right where you belong. On your knees and begging me not to end your life. Too bad for you that I only take the pleas of one man.”
I kick him again.
And again.
And then I’m on top of him, hitting him with every ounce of strength I have left.
My knuckles are swollen, bruised, and bleeding, but I don’t stop raining down punch after punch.
I can’t stop.
If I do, then it means this part of my life is really over.
And I’ll have to face reality.
My family is gone.
My dad is gone.
Dare is gone.
They’re all dead, when it should have been me instead.
So, I keep hitting him.
I keep reveling in the way he bleeds.
