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Chapter 25

Trey

In the shadows, we manage to escape my father. For now. His search will keep him occupied while we call the police.

Juliet aims for my car, but I pull her toward the house. She shakes her head wildly, jerking my hand in the direction of the Camaro. Desperate to get the hell away from my father and the fuck off this island.

Behind us, among the trees, my father fires another shot. The crackling burst is deafening out here in the silence.

How many has that been now? Eight?

“He shot out the tires. There’s no service here. We have to go upstairs and call the police from the landline.”

She curses under her breath and limps beside me while we race for the house. Blood trickles from her leg.

I grit my teeth, hating that she’s in pain and there’s nothing I can do to help her. “What happened?”

“Broken glass.” She winces with every step. “I had to smash the window to get out.”

I squeeze her hand. “My brave girl.”

She glances back over her shoulder with wild eyes as we ascend the stairs to the front doors. “He didn’t shoot you?”

“No. He shot Rachel.”

“She was in there?” Her wide-eyed gaze lands on my temple. “Did she hurt you?”

I shake my head. “He pistol-whipped me after he shot her.”

Despite the dizziness nearly sending me back to my knees, I sweep Juliet up into my arms, carrying her into the house.

A shot fires, and I jump. From the treeline, my father shouts my name.

“Run!” Juliet screeches.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I race into the house. As we race past the kitchen, Juliet spots Rachel’s body resting in a cherry-red pool.

“At least one of them is dead,” she hisses.

“Only wish I’d been the one to do it.” I’ll get him back for that too.

Rachel’s mistake was believing she wouldn’t suffer the same fate as my mother. That a monster like him could ever be placated, appeased.

There’s no escaping him while he still breathes.

Up the stairs, I charge into my father’s office. He kept the only landline in here, ensuring that he was in charge of any communications that came in or out. Just another way to control us.

I set Juliet down on his chair, her whole body shaking, and dial 911.

When the operator answers, I blurt, “My father is trying to kill us. He’s already killed someone. You need to send someone right away?—”

A small, almost imperceptible creak.

My father enters the room, gun-first. Barrel pointed at me.

This is it. This is the end of the road.

“Put the phone down, Trey.”

At least the police will have a recording of this call. At least they’ll know who the real villain is.

The operator’s demands for an address and a name go unanswered as I do what my father says. “You don’t have to do this.”

He lets out a merciless sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “I should’ve done this a long time ago. You’re no son of mine.”

I step around the desk, putting distance between me and Juliet, even as she clings to me. He only has one bullet left, and I won’t let him end us both.

“You’re right. You’re no father of mine. I’m nothing like you.”

“Don’t!” Juliet shouts.

Right before my father pulls the trigger.

The blast makes my ears ring, the warm trickle of blood flowing down my arm before my brain registers the pain. Registers Juliet’s screams.

My father pulls the trigger again. Nothing more than a hollow click .

He’s out of bullets.

I swipe at the place on my bicep where my shirt and skin have been shredded, blood leaking where his bullet grazed me.

He missed.

Adrenaline and survival instincts push the agony aside as I lunge at my father.

The gun goes flying, smacking against the wall with a clatter. My father strikes me in the throat, making me bend at the waist as a grunt of pain escapes.

He brings his knee up into my nose.

The burst of sharp, agonizing pain makes my vision go dark, and I hit the ground. Hard.

Before my vision clears, he’s on top of me, fists raining down on my head, chest, face, wherever he can strike. Like so many times before.

I’m bleeding. Weak. And I can’t fight him off.

This time, he really is going to kill me.

The pain, the blood loss, is too much. Pulling me under.

My survival instincts ebb as my body accepts its fate.

Let him keep his attention on me, let him kill me, so she can escape. So she can live.

Past his shoulder, a demon with dark hair streaked with fire emerges, her body wrapped in black leather. A shard of glinting glass in her hand.

My little demon sent from the pits of hell to save me, in more ways than she’ll ever know.

She brings the glass around his neck and slices it across his throat.

Everything stops. The fists, the shouts, the agony.

Silence falls over us as his fists disappear, the assault abruptly ending as he clutches at his neck.

Crimson blood seeps through his fingers, his gurgles obscene.

“That’s for Autumn.” Her words and hands are shaky, but she’s unwavering. Bleeding, bruised, and trembling, she’s still the strongest person I know.

Despite the blood gushing from my nose and arm and the pain splitting my head, I kick my father off me. He lands on his back on the floor, choking on his own blood.

I take the shard of glass Juliet offers me.

“ Trey .” My father gurgles out my name as I press the tip of the glass to his throat.

And slice.

“That’s for Juliet.” Another bright red slash. Never deep enough. “That’s for me.”

I bring the bloody shard high above my head. Beneath me, his eyes are wide.

Finally, I witness fear in my father’s eyes.

I won’t remember him as the monster who hurt me, who killed my mother, who killed Autumn, who hurt the woman I love.

This is how I’ll remember him.

I stab the glass into his throat, leaving it there to suffocate him. To drown him in his own blood. To suffer in his final moments of life. “That’s for my mother.”