Page 110 of From Hell

My father’s tired eyes slide to mine. There’s more gray at his temples, I’m sure of it. “Wait for me outside.”

Dad disappears into his boss’s office as I shuffle into a crisp September morning, the air colder and fresher than it has been in a long time. I take a deep breath, expelling the pent-up emotions from my lungs, and stare off into the distance.

I feel naked without the gun Nola gave me, but the police confiscated it. I’ll have to get another one to protect myself from Simmons now I’m exposed. The police have nothing to charge me with.

It’s Jaxon they want.

The Ripper.

A rush of something dark grips my insides at the thought of Jaxon being the one who tried to kill me. I don’t know how I feel about that. If Jaxon suffers from lost time and does things he doesn’t remember, does he remember what he did to me?

Does it matter if he does?

When I was hunting him, I never cared to ask the Ripper why; I just wanted him gone. Now, I’m torn in two between the monster who hurt me and the man who haunts me, buried deep under my skin. There’s no going back.

“Cuz.” I look up to see my cousin, Cash, leaning against the bonnet of his car. “Kendall told me what happened. You’re staying at mine, I won’t take no for an answer.”

The next couple of days, despite Simmons’s threats, nothing happens. But I can’t sit around and wait for him to hurt my family, so after the police come around to ask more questions about Jaxon that I can’t answer, I make my mum go on that holiday she’s always harping on about. And call Rae, my dad’s ex-partner, and ask her to watch Kendall’s back.

After that, I don’t bother getting out of bed—only to take the gun Cash found for me, drive out into the middle of his estate, and practice shooting holes in the temporary range he made me, cardboard boxes stuffed with newspapers. Nola and Sage keep calling, but I prefer to wallow and shoot alone.

Jaxon stays away, but some nights, when I’m shooting late, I see a figure in the depths of the woods watching me. I can almost feel his lips against mine if I close my eyes like a ghost breathing across my bruised skin.

But when I open them, he’s gone.

Strangely, I’m not afraid.

It’s only when Cash asks me seriously, cigar hanging from his mouth while he pours us both a large gin and tonic in one of those goldfish bowls glasses lined with a long slice of cucumber at nine in the morning, what would it take to get me to snap out of it, I realize what I need to do.

“I want to kill Abe Simmons.”

Cash doesn’t blink when I explain the threat he made to our family. He nods, handing me the glass with a smirk. “Thought you’d never ask.”

Two days later, Cash comes home with a bag of illegal guns and his brother, Presley, in tow. “Do you want to come, or do you want to stay by the phone and bite your fingernails?”

I raise a brow. “You’re coming out of retirement?”

“I’m from Shepherd’s Bush. Why would I fucking retire?”

Berners House emerges out of the darkness as we drive toward it, bright uplighting glaring for miles, polluting the area of natural beauty it squats in.

Cash grins as we get closer, glancing back at me. “I’m looking forward to this.”

Pres snorts as he pulls up. “Just don’t get shot. I’m not sucking bullets out of your ass cheeks this time.”

Luckily, Pres is a member, meaning we drove through without issues. I felt brave until Cash told me he doesn’t like to plan these things, and Pres agreed and then tucked a few grenades in his pockets. Now I’m petrified we’re all going to get arrested.

“Simmons is mine,” I remind them, sounding badass as I climb out of Cash’s matte black SUV into the chilly night air. I should be warm in my black polo neck and black gym bottoms tucked into boots, and I am. I even have a baseball cap on with my hair tucked underneath, but occasionally, the wind rips right through me.

It’s either that or the fear.

I can’t tell which.

Cash chuckles, the bag of guns slung over his shoulder as he exits. “We gotcha, Cuz. You do what you have to do.”

We stand around for several minutes, the boys smoking, me tapping my foot before I ask what we’re waiting for. My nerves are shot, and my shoulders are taut. I’ve never done anything like this. Maybe I should have stayed at home and chewed my nails.

Suddenly, the lights go out, plummeting us into pitch-black.