Page 86 of Forgive Me Father

Eden

Whoever invented heels clearly didn’t consider how humiliating it is to walk down a dark sidewalk in the middle of the night, constantly pulling down your skirt as trick-or-treaters pass by.

My feet burn with each step, but I keep going, my phone turned off to prevent anyone from tracking me. Zoey and Aiden didn’t have time to follow me, so the first block felt like a marathon, and now the final block feels like it’s stretching on forever.

When I finally see Roman’s house, candles flicker in the windows, casting a warm glow. Two cars are parked in the driveway—his 4Runner and a car I don’t recognize.

The door is slightly ajar, which is odd because Roman is always so careful about locking up.

I step inside quietly, the candles providing the only light. The rich aroma of food fills the air, drawing my eyes to the dining table, which is set for two, fresh roses in the center, surroundedby candles. Food sits on the oven, some Chinese takeout from the looks of the to-go containers.

Is this for our date?

A smile tugs at my lips, but it quickly fades when I hear a loud thud, followed by Roman’s angry voice.

“Wrong fucking answer,” He hisses, followed by a deep, stifled groan of pain.

My heart races as I inch forward silently.

“Let’s try this again,” Roman’s voice promises violence as he continues to speak. “What the fuck does David Faulkner know about Eden and me? And what should I know about that little shit Luca?”

Another scream tears through the air, and I freeze outside the door, steeling myself for what I’m about to see.

I push the door open slightly, and Seth’s eyes lock onto mine. My hand flies to my mouth to stifle a scream.

Roman stands over Seth, a knife in his hand dripping with blood. Seth is sprawled on a plastic tarp, his hands bound and his mouth covered with tape, open wounds scattered over his flesh.

Jesus Christ.

Roman’s ring and cross sit on a nearby desk, next to a glass of scotch, but it looks untouched.

“Did I say you could look away from me?” Roman snaps, grabbing Seth’s chin and forcing him to look back at him. He’s too focused on Seth to notice me yet.

“If I rip this tape off your mouth again, you better tell me everything you know, and next time I tell you to come over, you better not give me any fucking lip.”

He rips the tape from Seth’s mouth, and Seth gasps for air, his eyes pleading with me.

“Eden,” Seth wheezes, his voice strained. “Please, call for help.”

Roman finally notices me, his eyes widening as he takes in what I’m wearing. His gaze travels from my eyes to the teeth marks on my breast and back up to the smeared makeup on my face.

“Why are you here, Seth?” I ask, my voice cold and detached.

“Father Briar is insane, please, my sweet Eden—”

“Don’t fucking call her that,” Roman snaps, pressing his foot into Seth’s chest, keeping him pinned down. “You nasty fucking pig.”

“He’s here,” Roman starts, his voice laced with contempt, “to tell me about your father and that shit stain Luca.”

“I don’t know anything about the kid,” Seth stammers, “and I’ve told you everything I know about David. I’ll tell you more once I find out, but please, Eden, get him off me—”

Blinded by rage, I slam the heel of my stiletto into Seth’s hand, twisting it into his palm as he screams. I grab the knife from Roman, and for a moment, he looks as shocked as I feel.

“That’s for Zoey,” I hiss, slashing a light, straight line down Seth’s thigh. He winces, and I deliver a hard slap to his face.

Roman watches in silence as I step back from Seth, the knife trembling in my grip. I hand it back to Roman, but my heart is still pounding, a mixture of adrenaline and an unsettling shadow within me. The side of me that I’ve fought so hard to bury—the side that craves control, that hungers for vengeance—has broken through, shattering the carefully constructed façade I’vemaintained for so long.

The blade felt like an extension of my anger, a way to reclaim the control that was stolen from me. After what happened in college, after my father’s suffocating grip on my life, this is the first time I’ve held power in my hands. It’s intoxicating and terrifying, yet I can’t deny the satisfaction that lingers in the aftermath.