Page 59 of Blood and Thorns (Twisted Ever After #1)

Arabella

My stomach was tight, made even more nervous with each familiar street we went down. I was almost thankful it was Malik sitting beside me, rather than his brother. Malik didn’t speak much, whereas Micah seemed to need to fill the silence.

The car rumbled to a stop as the garage appeared, the shutter down and the lights off. The late evening sun did little to ease my discomfort.

Three years I’d lived above, and I hoped after so much time being away that I’d feel some sort of comfort coming home. But there was nothing other than the need to leave and never look back.

“You’ll need to wait in the car,” I said, turning to find Malik frowning out the window.

“That’s not happening,” he said, his voice a deep timbre that vibrated the air between us.

“He won’t speak to me if you’re there.” My hand gripped the handle of the door, pushing it open before Chip could.

Micah appeared, his eyes darting between me and his twin. “We’re under strict instructions to protect you. ”

“He’s my father,” I snapped, my chest aching as I glanced up at the window of the flat. The curtains were drawn, despite it being only late afternoon. “I just need to speak to him alone. He won’t hurt me.”

I wouldn’t let him. Never again.

“They’re right, Ara. I’ll escort you inside,” Chip said with an assurance that was unexpected.

“No, I’ve already said–”

“Ara, that’s enough,” he growled, his eyes colliding with mine. “You guys can scout the perimeter,” he continued when I stayed silent. “Meet back at the front door in five once it’s secured.”

The twins shared a look, and in that moment if I didn’t know Micah had a thin scar along his jawline that was lighter than his skin, you wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart. Nodding in sync they split, each walking around the building in slow, steady strides.

“Come on,” Chip said, taking my arm. “It won’t be long before Mr Devereaux wants you returned.”

It was like I was in a daze, my lungs filling with cement with every step I took towards the place I once called home.

I needed to see Dad, to understand whether he actually wanted forgiveness or whether this was just another ploy to get what he wanted.

To feed his addiction that mattered more to him than I, or even Mum, ever could.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait here,” Chip said, his voice far gentler than it was a minute ago. “It’s against protocol, so you’ll have to make this quick before the twins realise you’re alone.”

“You’re not coming in?”

Chip shook his head. “You won’t have long, so make it count.”

I nodded, taking a moment to myself before I reached up to knock. The door squeaked a little as it opened from the force, and I frowned.

“Dad?” I whispered into the darkness, stepping inside and closing the door behind me. Glass crushed beneath my feet, bottles lining the hall all the way to the living room. “Dad?” I shouted louder this time, my stomach recoiling at the stench before my brain could catch up to the smell.

He sat in his favourite armchair, his head bowed forward like I’d found him passed out so many times before with that stupid lamp alight beside him. It created an eerie glow, casting much of his features in shadow.

I crashed to my knees, ignoring the way my knees squelched in the sticky carpet, or how I finally recognised the scent of blood. It suffocated the air around me, choking my throat with every breath.

“Dad…” I reached over to him, finding his body not warm, but not exactly cold either.

I frantically shoved at his arm, expecting for him to grumble a curse for waking him from his drunken slumber.

But there was nothing, his body a weight that barely moved but for the springs in his seat.

They squeaked, the sound so loud in the stillness that surrounded us. Surrounded me.

The front of his shirt clung to him like it was wet, his pulse vacant when I reached for his wrist. My hand shook as I reached up to brush the hair from his face, finding his eyes clouded in death.

It was then I noticed the skin around his throat was raw, the flesh bright red and open where he’d been sliced from one side to the other.

I waited for the realisation to kick in, for my grief to become so overwhelming that it confiscated the surrounding oxygen and strangled me of my words. For the tears to pour, and for the guilt to consume .

But nothing came but anger, so sharp and pure. It sliced through my chest with such vicious claws it left me winded.

He’d been taken away before I was ready.

Before I had the chance to say everything I’d buried for years.

I hadn’t screamed or cried. I hadn’t exorcised the fucking weight of a childhood spent drowning in guilt.

I wanted to purge it all, every unspoken word and every desperate attempt to earn his love.

And now I didn’t get that.

My breath came out ragged, like I was gasping for breath against the bonds cinching around my lungs. A single tear burned down my face, but it wasn’t from sorrow for his death. It was for me. That I didn’t get the closure that I deserved.

“What the fuck happened here?”

I jumped to my feet, ignoring how the blood had soaked the hem of my dress and stuck to my knees. Gabriel stood by the door, his upper lip twisted in a grimace as he glanced at my father.

Wiping the tear from my face, I stepped back, wary as Gabriel reached over to lift Dad’s head up. With a sound of disgust, he let his head drop once more to his chest.

“I told you not to trust Beast,” he said. “I’m sorry, baby, but I warned you.”

“What are you doing here?” I whispered, my voice dangerously quiet, even as panic clawed at me. “Gabriel, you need to leave.”

“What’s with the attitude?” he growled. “It’s not like I killed him. He’s the one who embarrassed your fucking captor at his club.”

“Sebastian wouldn’t…”

“Of course he fucking would.” Gabriel closed the distance until we stood toe to toe, his movements frantic, putting me on edge. “Sebastian’s the Beast; he doesn’t care about anything or anyone but himself. All he gives a shit about is power and keeping his reputation.”

I glanced over his shoulder at the door, wondering where Chip or the twins were.

Gabriel followed my line of sight, his expression tightening as if he knew I was ready to make a run for it. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned.

Something glinted in his hand, a gun that caused anxiety to slither beneath my skin.

“You just had to pick him ,” Gabriel snarled, taking a step forward as I instinctively stepped back.

“Do you know what I’ve had to do, baby? I’ve done things I’m ashamed of because of you.

I’m on suspension because no one believed me about Devereaux.

They called me obsessive. Crazy. Can you believe that? ”

His laugh cracked in the air like glass shattering.

“But that’s fine,” he whispered, the gun rising until it pointed directly at my chest. “You’re here now. And soon… it’ll all be over. Together we can take him down, and I’ll fucking show them that I was right.”

“Gabriel…” I choked, my voice barely a whisper. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry, I’d never hurt you,” he said, his tone eerily calm.

“Then why bring a gun?” I inched back again, trying to place the armchair between us.

He frowned, as if confused by the question. “Because how else am I going to get you away from that monster?”