Page 64 of Betrayed

“Still red hot though?—”

I punch him in the shoulder. Hard. Hard enough to make him steer the car off the road and the tire to catch the gravel. He rights the wheel, still laughing at my ass.

“Wouldn’t bother you if you weren’t in so damn deep.”

“In what?” I ask, instantly regretting it.

“Love.”

“Shut up,” I say, softer this time.

My fists clench. Open. Clench.

“Where to, first,” Bayne asks me.

“Take me to Rory first.”

Bayne turns left, cruising down a gravel road. “He’s being held in a farmhouse not far from here. My cousin’s wife’s grandmother’s old property.”

“Say that three times fast.” I swallow. Hard. “And Caleb?”

Bayne flashes a wicked grin. “The pig shed behind it.”

I laugh. It was Bayne’s idea to make Rory comfortable—keep the older man off his guard.

The farmhouse is the only one for miles, standing solitary amid the vast landscape. Through the darkness, with no artificial lights visible, the sky stretches overhead like a blanket of stars.

Rory sits in a worn armchair, a glass of red wine in one hand, stroking a cat the same color as his flaming orange beard with the other. He sits, like a king on a damn throne. Waiting for me.

Like he already knows what I’m going to say.

I stay in the frame of the door, not wanting to get any closer. “Rory, the red king. We meet at last.”

“Have ye come to make a deal?” he asks.

There’s not even a pause in his hardened expression as he takes the deal. He sacrifices his son for his own freedom. No wonder Caleb turned out to be such an asshole.

The moon, bright and steady, illuminates my path as I walk toward the shed, each step guided by its soft glow in this peaceful, open space.

The air smells clean and fresh. I take one more deep breath before I step into hell.

Caleb’s tied to a chair. Been here since that night. I slam my boot down onto Caleb’s foot and elbow his ribs. He jolts. I grab the knife I’ve hidden in my waistband—Erin’s knife. The wooden handled one she’d been sleeping with under her pillow.

And I stab Caleb in the thigh. “Hello.”

He screams. Blood sprays across me. It’s hot, metallic, and it feels damn good.

I take my time with the knife. Every cut belongs to Erin.

Through clenched teeth, he hisses, “You think you win,” he gurgles with a smirk. “But I already ruined her.”

Bastard.

“You could never come close. She’s twice the man you are.”

Then I carve where he touched and made her watch.

This time, I force him to be the voyeur.