Bridget’s looking really heavy. It can’t mean anything good. She just spent my whole bullshit attempt at a heroic rescue in that room with Pops. I’m afraid to hear whatever is about to come outta her mouth. Her face says enough.
“Jonas—Jonas, I think, was tellin’ the truth for once in his fucking life. Daddy knew what they were gonna do with me after this marriage. He knew Finn was in leagues with them, too. And I think he knows you killed Conor.”
Pretty sure he knew that when he asked me about his whereabouts, but again…who’s keeping score? But something doesn’t add up for me. I was already pissed about his notion to merge, and using Bridget to do it, but Pop knew that. I made it more clear at the diner. He wanted better for Bridget, or so it seemed. He wouldn’t have pushed ahead with any of this if he truly knew Jonas had plans to break her. That was never part of his plan. There’s no way. And to outright tell Bridge that he knew all along Finn was dirty, but still sit him at his right? There’s a piece of this puzzle missing here and none of it is clear to me right now. I don’t even know where to start putting it together.
“Dec?” I started, catching up to his side. His face is weary and hard to read. “Talk to me.” Seven tried her best to look anything but curious, but I know she’s taking in every word. It’s what she does, I’ve come to realize. She doesn’t ask questions, but it doesn’t stop her from harping on it all. That’s obvious just by the way she remembered, in great detail, everything about Braughton’s body.
“I dunno, mate. He’s not himself. He doesn’t seem right, and not because any of the boys did anything to him. He’s spotless and tied to a chair. There’s somethin’ off about him, Mal. It sounded like—”
“Likegoodbye,” Bridget finished. “It sounded like he wants to fucking die, Malek. I don’t believe a word.”
And she knows the softer side of him best.
I was silent as we carried them past the wood line to where our cars were hidden in the cut. I set Seven down and popped the trunk to the Nova, pulling their bags out. Bridget didn’t hesitate. She started immediately digging through everything to find clothes. Seven leaned against the car, arms crossed and watching me.
“Get changed, love. I don’t have anything to clean you up with, but I know you’re ready to—”
“He’s on your list, isn’t he?” she asked, cutting me off. Declan and Bridget stopped everything they were doing and the three of us stood, giving her our full attention. “Not the list I was supposed to clean. Your dad’s been on the list the whole time.”
I don’t see the point in blowing smoke up her ass right now. Or my sister’s. Especially when I’m getting pegged with Bridget’s ‘what the fuck’ look. “Let’s just say the rest of the names were written in blood. His was written in really gray ink.”
“And you’re completely okay? Killing your ownfather?”
I barely heard Bridget utter my name in shock as I hollowed out and stared at the girl that’s equal parts my salvation and damnation. I tell her the truth…she’s gone. I don’t? Probly still the same outcome, if not now, then soon. It is what it is. I don’t deserve her, anyway.
“He’s never been a father to me, Sev. He’s barely been one toher,” I admitted, nodding towards Bridget. “If he had anything to do with hurting any part of you…I’ll be more than okay watching him paint the fucking floor red.” We stared at each other in silence, aside from Bridget’s slight hysteria, and I finally dipped my chin, deciding maybe she’d rather leave whatever she’s thinking to be just as unsaid as everything else. I’m man enough to take the ‘L’ and appreciate what I’ve had for as long as I had it. I turned away and started back towards the trees, but her voice rang out behind me.
“Seven,”she called out. I turned to the side, brows pinched while we locked eyes. Damn it, she’s so fucking perfect…it’s killing me. “You kill him, it’s seven bodies. Sevengraves.” I’ll admit…I hadn’t pieced that together. I swallowed as she stepped forward. “My mom gave me a name that meant something to her. Seven in the Bible…meanscomplete. You told me you got your favorite tattoo seven years ago. The night we met, you said you’d been waiting seven years for revenge. I won’t even go into the irony of looking like the woman that haunts you, Malek…while also having a really fitting name to go with all this madness. But this is all coming pretty full-circle. I refuse to believe it didn’t all happen for a reason. You gotta finish whatever this is. So do I.”
“Complete…” I whispered, utterly dumbfounded and reeling. I didn’t realize I was staring at the fucking ground before her bare feet came into view and her bloody hands touched my face.
“Finish it, Malek.”
Her warm breath skated across my lips and her eyes held me fucking prisoner. I grabbed her throat, forcefully kissing her, and I was almost shocked that she let me, kissing me back with the same ravenous sting…until she pushed me away and backed herself back up to my car. I stood there breathless, glancing at Bridget, who looked ready to beat me to death. Understandably so. She’s probably at all-out war with the idea of ending our father. I’m not. I pointed at Declan.
“No matter what happens, stay here. Don’t let them outta your sight. If anything happens to either one of them, you’re a dead man.”
“I’ve got ‘em, brother. See you on the other side.”
I nodded once, and strode into the trees, not looking back.
The laces in my boots are untied again. I really did try this time, but it seems fitting that I’m about to unnerve my father with one of the biggest qualms he has with me on a pretty regular basis. I like it. It also helps that the blood of every traitorous piece of shit in this house has put a shine on these boots that I’ve spent a long time earning.
All because of what my Daddy taught me…
It was complete silence as I passed every murderer I brought to this execution, some of them watching and waiting, some still finding shit to stuff in their pockets before the place goes up in flames. I approached the door at the end of the hall, the buckles on my shoes clinking as I walked. Miguel waited with his arms crossed at the doorway, smirking as he stepped aside. There the kings sat, side by side, tied to chairs and waiting for the reaper. Pop looked at me, and I immediately knew what Bridget and Declan saw that was off. It’s something that I think I noticed in the diner. Maybe even before it, the last time I was in his office. Something’s been dying in him long before all this. I just don’t know what.
I had a whole script prepared in my fucked-up mind for Nolan O’Dell. It’s not that it went blank as soon as I looked at the bastard…I just don’t give a fuck anymore. I never asked for any of this. And every word that just came out of Seven’s mouth just hit home for me. Thisdidhappen for a reason.Shehappened for a reason. Tonight…will be the last time I kill a man for any reason other than protection. This completes the closure I needed to let go of a ghost. It completes the vicious circle of my empty life, whether Seven stays for it or not. It ends a chapter and starts a new one that I’m determined will be brighter than what I’ve always known. This is it for me.
Seven graves.
I’m not giving Nolan O’Dell the satisfaction of last words, or a piece of my rattled mind. Not one ounce of him is deserving of it. I looked him in the face, holding my hand out towards Miguel, and he already seemed to know what I wanted. His bloody machete appeared in my hand. I didn’t take my eyes off Nolan. I walked with purpose, not giving a single shit what was about to come out of his open mouth before I swung my arm and robbed him of his last rites. His head flew, thudding to the floor as it rolled, disappearing under a nearby curtain. My father didn’t flinch. I turned towards him and slipped the blade beneath the rope tying him to the chair, snapping it.
“Everybody out,” I said, heavily.
I don’t actually know how many people had come in behind me, likely just to spectate after an adventure like tonight, but…there wouldn’t be any extra ears in here for this. I heard several sets of footsteps leaving as I dropped the machete to the floor and my father stood, buttoning his nice jacket and squaring off with me.
“How do I look?”
