Page 24

Chapter 23

Trey

Juliet .

Why the fuck did I leave her out there? I should’ve insisted she come with me. Should’ve insisted that we couldn’t be apart. Not on this island. It’s not safe. For either of us.

Through the window, I spot the Rolls-Royce in the driveway next to the Camaro.

Rachel isn’t wrong. He’s here. When did she spot his car pull in? How long has she been sitting on that bombshell, waiting for the perfect moment to detonate it?

I spin on my heel and lurch forward, pulse racing, when my father strides casually into the room.

Rachel brightens. “Hi, Charles.” Her high, sweet voice is sickening.

But Juliet isn’t with him. I’m about to ask where the hell she is when I clamp my mouth shut.

What if Rachel was wrong? What if he didn’t spot Juliet in my car? I told her to hide and he’d have no reason to examine the interior when he saw I wasn’t in the driver's seat. If I open my mouth now, I could put her in more danger.

My father folds his arms and fixes me with stern brows. “Tell me about these thumbs, Trey. I thought I told you to stay out of trouble.”

Trouble . As if two severed thumbs are nothing more than a college student getting into a little trouble. “I know you killed my mother.”

I’ve been wanting to say those words to him for years. Make the accusation and measure the microscopic ways his expression changed. But I never had proof. A true motive.

Now I do. Now I have Juliet.

She might not know exactly what happened to my mother that night, we may never know, but we know why.

Before he can deny it, I cut him off. “I know you killed a girl here years ago. I know you made all those people disappear.”

“So you’re trying to punish me?” His eyes cloud. The monster unleashed. “Is that it? Your own father?”

Disgust boils in my veins. I don’t owe him a fucking ounce of filial loyalty. “You killed your own wife. You let your son get molested. I don’t really give a fuck what happens to you.”

Father and Rachel both laugh at that. Two villains made for each other.

“ Molested ,” Rachel crows. “You’re the one who came inside me, honey.”

Bile rises in my throat at the memory. Her on top of me, hands on my chest, lips on my mouth—“Shut the fuck up!”

Father shakes his head as he rolls up his sleeves. “I told you, Trey. I was only giving you one more chance. And now you’re out of chances.”

He lifts the hem of his button-up to reveal a pistol at his waist. My heart stops when he pulls it from the holster and points the barrel at me.

This is it. He’s going to kill me. I only hope Juliet manages to get away when I’m bleeding out on the floor.

Tears blur my vision not for me, but for her. For what might happen to the girl I love when I’m gone.

From her perch on the kitchen island, Rachel’s spine goes ramrod straight. Her laughter cuts short like a ghost has wrapped its hand around her throat.

She sinks down to the floor, inching toward him with her hands up. “Put the gun down, Charles,” she soothes. “You don’t want to kill your own son.”

She doesn’t actually care whether I live or die—she doesn’t want the trauma of witnessing a murder right in front of her eyes. More likely, she doesn’t want to miss a chance to violate me again. She still thinks I could want her after everything. Thinks I ever wanted her in the first place.

My father swings the gun in her direction, and she halts in her tracks.

A tiny sliver of relief breaks through the crushing terror. For a few heart-stopping moments, I’m no longer his target.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” His voice is eerily flat, a simmering rage on the verge of explosion.

She cowers back, holding up her hands as if they’ll protect her from a bullet. “No, please! You don’t want me dead. I can help you. You need me.”

“I told you to keep him out of trouble,” he barks. “You failed. There are two dead men’s thumbs in my kitchen. You’re useless to me.”

I shout over her when she begins to plead again. “How did you kill my mother?”

At least I’ll die with the knowledge of what really happened to her, and Juliet can still get away.

He keeps the gun trained on Rachel while his gaze drifts back to me. “The same way.”

Silence falls over us as I glance at Rachel, but she’s confused too.

Her mouth falls open, but I don’t hear her scream over the earsplitting explosion as the gun fires.

My head rings for what feels like minutes when I finally open my eyes to find Rachel slumped on the floor, eyes unblinking and unseeing as blood pools in her hair.

“You killed her.” My mouth forms the words, but I don’t hear them. More disbelief and shock than horror or sorrow.

My hands curl into fists. I should’ve been the one to kill her. I’m the one who deserved to take that shot. Just another thing he’s taken from me.

He should’ve protected me from her years ago, but he didn’t. He’s only removing her from our lives now for his sake.

“You really shouldn’t have killed Rachel, Trey.” He nods at the thumbs in the plastic bags. His chilling voice sends a shiver down my spine. “Or those men.”

Dread washes over me. He’s going to frame me for the murders. All of them.

I should’ve known he’d be a step ahead of me. He’ll continue to get away with his crimes, and I’ll be the one behind bars.

A scream rips through the night, and we both freeze.

Outside, a girl in a leather jacket sprints through the darkness.

My heart plummets to my feet.

Juliet .

A sick smile slowly inches across Father’s face. “Good thing I’ve got a full magazine.” He racks the pistol, loading another round in the chamber. He’s got a ten-round magazine. Nine bullets left. “Time to finish what I started.”

Fuck that. He’s not getting anywhere near her.

I lunge for him.

But before I can grab the pistol, he swings it up and brings it down on my temple.

My vision goes dark as I hit the floor, head swimming and the entire world spinning.

Juliet .

Juliet .

Juliet .

In the distance, a shot fires. Followed by another.

Another. Another.

Four altogether.

Bile rises as I manage to prop myself up on my elbow, the world slowly coming back into focus as an aching throb pounds in my temple.

Blood still flows from Rachel’s head on the floor. Chunks of skull and brain matter splatter the wall and counter behind her.

I retch, vomiting up the contents of my stomach before finally pushing myself onto shaky feet.

I stumble for the front doors, still open after my father’s exit.

In the driveway, the Camaro sits low to the ground. The bastard shot out the tires.

He doesn’t plan on letting us leave this island alive.

We’ll die, and we’ll take his secrets with us.

A small beam of light bobs across the yard. The flashlight on my father’s gun as he searches through the darkness. Just like the night my mother saved Juliet from Autumn’s fate. From her own fate.

Now I need to be the one to save Juliet. Before my father fulfills his promise to finish what he started.