Page 25

BEG: VANA

CALISTA

I twirl the knife in my hand, pacing restlessly in front of my parents, each breath a little easier knowing they’re restrained in their chairs and can’t hurt me anymore. My mother’s taunts echo in the room, insisting I lack the strength and bravery to follow through with my plan, and her words burrow into my mind. Is she right? Have I been hyping myself up for nothing?

I steal glances at the guys behind me, acutely aware of their unwavering watchfulness, waiting for me to muster the courage to take the step they've already taken. I've never shied away from ending a life—in fact, I craved it. The thought of them perishing at my hands consumed me, knowing my face would be the last thing they'd see as they breathed their last.

But this time feels different, and I can articulate that feeling. Have I exaggerated this quest for revenge and turned it into something bigger than it ever needed to be? For the past year, I’ve been consumed by this desire, letting their twisted actions dictate my life without fully comprehending the long- term damage it was inflicting on me. I allowed this obsession to control me, potentially setting myself up for failure. What if I can’t go through with it? What if I let them win, leaving here with them still alive?

I force those unsettling thoughts out of my mind, continuing my restless pacing while my mother savors the opportunity to undermine me. My father remains silent, the knowledge that this is the end weighing heavy in his expression. When I meet his deep brown eyes, I see resignation; he knows I possess the resolve to do what is necessary. It's clear he believes in me more than my mother does—it’s always been that way. My father was once my steadfast protector, but instead of shielding me from her, he allied with her, essentially casting me into the fray.

"What are you waiting for?" Addy suddenly appears, startling me to my core. "Please tell me you’re not fucking backing out now," she whispers angrily, her warm breath brushing my ear and sending shivers down my spine.

I halt and turn to face the guys, keeping my back to my parents to avoid revealing I’m talking to myself. At least with the guys, it’s not a big deal; they already know I’m not all there.

"Go the fuck away," I murmur, feeling her presence beside me but refusing to acknowledge her.

"No, I won’t. You’re going to see this through, Calista. After everything they’ve fucking done, there’s no way in hell I’ll let you walk away while they’re still breathing," she threatens.

It’s a compelling argument, yet my conscience wrestles with the truth. I lift my gaze and lock eyes with Five, searching his expression for something, anything, as I whisper back to Addy.

"Back the fuck off. You can't do a damn thing," I spit, my anger boiling over.

Then, unexpectedly, Five winks at me, a grin tugging at his lips. In a flash of clarity, I spin around and plunge my knife into my mother’s upper thigh. Her scream pierces the stillness of night, waking me to the moment, but an unforeseen surge of exhilaration courses through me, and I stab again, watching blood spurt forth, painting the scene red.

"What are you doing?" My mother shrieks, her glare seething with fury.

But for once, I feel unafraid. I yank the knife from her thigh and stab it into the other one, mirroring the initial cut. Blood soaks her white pants, the stark color halting me in my tracks, entrancing me. I feel as though I’ve lost control, and no matter how desperately I want to walk away, my feet remain rooted.

"Don’t let her get in your head, Cali," Killian advises, stepping beside me and running his fingers through my tangled hair. "And I’m not just talking about your mother," he whispers knowingly, aware that Addy’s shadow looms near.

"Too late," I reply, still lost in a daze as I draw the bloodied knife from her thigh and press it against her throat.

"You won’t kill me," she hisses, venom lacing her voice.

"Don’t be so sure," I retort with a sardonic laugh, pulling a Ziploc baggie from my pocket containing a flash drive filled with evidence against my parents—the same drive I intend to leave for the authorities once they’re dead.

"You think you can outsmart me?" She hisses, her face pale, eyes wide, with an alarm that feels electric. “They’ll find you, Calista. You won’t get away with this.”

I lean closer, the tip of my knife digging lightly against her skin, enough for her to know I’m serious. “I’m not here to play games, Mother. This isn’t about getting away; it’s about my fucking freedom... from you.”

With a swift movement, I drag the blade across her throat, but I hesitate. I see the fear flickering in her eyes, the realization that this is not just a threat but a promise. The voice in my head screams at me, urging me to finish this—to see it through. But the longer I stay locked in this moment, the more I feel the gravity of my choices weighing heavily upon me.

“Cali…” My father’s voice is hoarse, and despite the turmoil churning inside me, I look over my shoulder. His eyes are wide, but they hold a different emotion than I expected: desperation. “Please, you don’t have to do this.”

“You think I want to fucking be here?” I snap, feeling the fragility of this situation. “You both made sure my life was hell. It’s time for you to fucking pay for it.”

Addy’s voice floats back into my mind. “Finish it, Cali. You’re so close...”

I waver, the heat of adrenaline coursing through my veins, battling against the nagging doubt. My mother’s presence has always suffocated me, and as I stand on the brink of finality, I realize my desire for revenge is entangled with a deeper need for self-liberation.

“Do it! Do it!” Dom urges, his eyes trained on mine. “End the cycle.”

His words give me strength. I can’t let fear dictate my path any longer. With renewed determination, I focus back on my mother, now gasping, the blood pooling beneath her.

“No more control. No more manipulation,” I repeat under my breath.

I go to press down harder, but then I hear Killian’s firm voice next to me. “Wait. Think about it, Cali. This could lead to something greater.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused. of my own anger. But I also feel the pull of something else: a chance to reclaim power on my own terms.

“I want to see you both rot in jail,” I declare, withdrawing the blade slightly but keeping it menacingly close to her throat. “You’re not escaping justice this time.”

A flicker of realization crosses my mother’s features—the shift from defiance to fear mixing with an urgency I find profoundly satisfying.

“No, Calista, please!” she pleads, but I surge with the strength of my decision, pulling back from the precipice of murder.

With a last glare down at them, I pull the flash drive into view. “This will be your new reality. You’ll have to face everything you’ve done.” I point to the drive. “And believe me, I’m making sure the truth gets out.”

"They’ll never see the inside of a jail cell," Addy whispers again, and again she has me thinking. "You know they have the feds, detectives, even local police in their back pockets. They will make damn sure they use the motherfuckers they're paying to make all of this disappear. You have to fucking kill them; it's the only way to end their reign of terror and for you to be able to move on completely."

I think long and hard about what she's saying, and she's not wrong. In fact, she's the furthest thing from wrong. She's fucking right, they'll never face the consequences of their actions. Killing them is really the only way to end it for good.

Gripping my knife even tighter, I press it deeper into my mother's throat, seeing the evil in her eyes that I know I'll never be able to forget. I have to end it. I have to kill them, and I always promised to have a smile on my face as I did it. So I smile, and drag the knife in deep across her throat, not giving a fuck about making her suffer. All I want is for her and my father to die, and then I want to go home with the guys and see what the future holds for all five of us.

As the knife slices through flesh, a sharp gasp fills the air—a sound of defeat that ignites an exhilarating rush within me. I can feel the warmth of her blood cascading down my hand, slick and fulfilling, like the completion of a heavy burden I never knew I carried. This is the release I craved. With every ounce of hatred I’ve ever felt towards her, I pour it into that single thrust of victory. And then I slice her throat again, holding her bloodstained hair in my hand, pulling her head back. I cut so deep her head becomes removed from her body, and I'm left holding her hair, dangling it from my hand as I laugh, swinging it hard against the wall just to fuck her up some more. By the time I've finished beating her decapitated head against the wall and dropping it onto the floor, I've never felt more alive.

But the moment is raw, visceral. The realization crashes over me. I look into my father’s eyes, witnessing the myriad of emotions—shock, horror, disbelief.

“You—” he stammers, his voice weak, but I see the truth dawning on him. He knows I’m not a scared little girl any longer.

I pull back and wipe the blade against her crimson-stained clothing before spinning to face him, teeth gritted, a new fire igniting in my veins.

“You were never my protector. You chose her over me. Look where that got you both,” I spit, my voice cutting as sharply as the knife in my hand.

“No, no, no,” he mutters, shaking his head as if the denial could erase the reality unfolding before him. “Calista, don’t?—”

But his words fall short, drowned out by the torrent of emotions tugging at my heart. I'm filled with an intoxicating sense of power—a euphoria that pulsates through me like a rhythmic beat. I want this. I need this.

With a swift flick of my wrist, I redirect my attention back to my mother, whose eyes have now lost their fire—just two lifeless orbs staring back at me. My heart races as I take a step back, the adrenaline still coursing through me, leaving me gasping for breath. But what I see next freezes me in place.

Her body slumps forward, lifeless; blood spills onto the floor like a morbid painting. And yet, even amongst the chaos, a reverberating question echoes through my mind: Was that enough? Am I done here?

“Cali, finish it. Now!” Five’s voice breaks through my haze, urgent and demanding, reminding me of the ticking clock that looms over us.

My gaze shifts back to my father. His face is a grotesque mask of fear and regret, his spirit crushed. It should bring me joy, yet an unexpected pang of guilt twists in my gut. I could end it for him as swiftly as I did for her, but something holds me back. The drive. The evidence. I can't let their twisted legacy perish in a single act of rage.

“Why did you let her manipulate you, Dad?” I demand, my voice steady but hollow. “This was all avoidable. You could have been better.”

He looks at me, desperation bubbling to the surface. “I just wanted to protect you, to give you a life free from all this. I?—”

But I cut him off with a shake of my head. “You were just as complicit. And now you’re going to face the fucking consequences, too.”

With that resolve in my heart, I see the flicker of desperation morph into disbelief. I lunge forward, knife poised above him, my expression fierce. But I hesitate. No, I can’t let him die without facing the truth, just as I’ve allowed myself to emerge from the shadows of my own torment. I grip his collar instead, dragging him closer, my knife hovering perilously, a reminder of what he’s lost.

“You think I wanted this shit? That I wanted to be chained by your choices and hers?” I breathe, rage, and hurt tangling within me. “I’m taking control of my life, but first, you’ll face your fucking justice.”

“Calista, listen to me,” he pleads, his wide eyes searching for mercy. “You don't need to do this. We can work something out?—”

“There’s nothing to fucking work out,” I retort, retracting the blade. “You both made your choices, and now, you will face them alone. I’ll make damn sure of it.”

Before he can reply, I take a step back and grab the flash drive from my pocket, holding it up for him to see. “This will be your new reality, father. You think you can run from it? No. I’ll make sure you’re all over the fucking headlines tomorrow.”

His expression shifts, panic turning to the sharp realization that no plea will save him now. The weight of his past actions bears down more heavily, and for the first time, I see a flicker of fear that mirrors the torment I held for years.

I make the first stab into his groin, hitting him where it hurts the most. He screams as my knife sticks in his dick, blood staining his crotch. I feel a small weight lifted as the once sincere look in his eyes turns to rage, and I know I've made the right decision. The guys—and Addy—cheer me on, watching closely from the sidelines, their support only fueling my hatred and revenge further.

"Calista, please," my father begs through gritted teeth as he tries to ignore the blinding, burning pain.

"Yes, beg me, dad," I encourage him, a twisted smirk dancing happily across my lips. "Beg me to fucking stop and spare your life."

To my surprise, he actually continues to beg me, only making me laugh at his foolishness. I have no intention of sparing him; I just like to hear him begging me, because it reminds me of all the times I begged him for help, and not once did he ever fucking listen.

So he has to die, and I'm going to make it as painful as fucking possible. I grab my backpack and take out my lighter fluid, completely dousing his legs in it until the bottle is empty. Grabbing my lighter, I flick it, watching the flame flicker as it casts a glow on his face.

"Yall might want to step back because in a second this place is going to be filled with flames and smoke," I warn them, leaning in close to my father and putting a final shaky kiss on his pale, clammy cheek.

“Enjoy your last moments,” I whisper, my voice laced with contempt as I ignite the flame and watch it bloom into a blaze that engulfs him whole.

A surreal warmth radiates around us, the kind that makes the hairs on my arms stand tall. I feel alive, electric—with every flicker of fire that dances against his skin, I find myself shedding the last remnants of fear and doubt.

The screams that erupt next are a symphony—a song of victory that plays in my ears. I can’t help but smile; it feels like every cruel thing he ever did to me is unraveling in front of my very eyes. For the first time, I hold the power. I am no longer the victim; I am the savior of my freedom.

“Cali, let’s go!” Dom shouts over the cacophony, pulling me back to my team.

I look at the flames swallowing my father, the twisted satisfaction carved across my lips. But as I pivot to flee, I glance back one last time, taking in the horrifying beauty of their fates entwining. My mother’s lifeless body bleeds out onto the floor still, while my father’s form is now fighting a battle with flames—one I know he’ll never win. It feels surreal, as though I’m watching a scene from a movie, the kind of sadistic horror that’s not supposed to happen in real life, allowing myself just this moment to revel in what I’ve done.

“I said move!” Killian grips my wrist, a fierce urgency stretching across his expression, and I nod, jettisoning my lingering thoughts away as we race from the house.

The fire dances behind us as we burst out of the front door, the heat on our skin a reminder of the release I’ve just unleashed. Sprinting through the grass, the world beyond feels electrified. The sounds of the fire crackling and my father's final screams begin to fade as we make our way into the darkness, cast in shadows as we leave the remnants of my parents behind. The guys follow closely, a protective circle returning after my unhinged spectacle.

As we reach the end of the driveway, undertaking that final step from my past into a new life, Five pulls me aside, urgency in his gaze.

“Cali, did you leave the drive? Where they can see it?”

Panic spikes through my chest. I had so easily overlooked the flash drive in my moment of vengeance. “I—” But before I can finish, guilt twists in my gut. “I forgot to leave it in the house, I?—”

He mutters something under his breath, frustration coloring his voice while he looks off towards the flames now lighting up the night sky.

“We have to go back, Cali.”

“No!” Ash barks, our hearts thundering. “No, absolutely not! I’m not going back there. We have to get the hell out of here!”

“If we don’t, they’ll have nothing left to tie them down! That evidence was supposed to be the key!” I gasp as Five grasps my shoulders, grounding me amid my turmoil.

“I should have thought about that,” I murmur, anger flickering inside me, but then there’s a surge of determination rising to silence the doubt.

He searches my face, and I see understanding and frustration mingling there, like flickering lights in the backdrop of a darkened room.

“So what’s the plan?” His tone softens as if he realizes I’m treading treacherous waters, trying to stay afloat.

“I'll attach the bag to the front door so they'll be forced to see it before going inside.” I draw a shaky breath, summoning the resolve no longer tied to fear but rather to a picture of my future —the one I hope is devoid of their shadows. “Let them fucking burn. It’s time for me to own my life. They made their choices. This is my liberation.”

I see Five weigh my words, the slow nod of acceptance conveying trust as he steps back, watching me run back down the driveway to the front door, attaching the baggie where it's in plain sight. Reluctance hangs between us like an unspoken promise—our role in this story has shifted. No more hiding, and no more shackles of the past. The horizon is set with new beginnings, and as we slip into the darkness, I can feel it calling me.

“Let’s move before someone spots the fire,” Dom urges, efficiency written all over his demeanor, pulling us into a brisk jog.

As we make our way toward the shadows of the distant street, a sense of lightness begins to settle over my heart. I hold my head high; the air feels almost too fresh, the scent of smoke and ash drifting away. The rush from the flames fades into my past with each step we take.

“Are you okay?” Ash asks, moving in alongside me, concern lacing his voice as we continue to move swiftly together through the row of mansions.

“More than I’ve ever been,” I reply, feeling the bursting optimism vibrating through my veins, beating to the rhythm of my newfound freedom.

As we advance deeper into the city, past the flickering shadows that had once imposed fear, the dawn of purpose unfolds before me. I don’t know what the future holds, but for the first time, it’s mine to discover, a canvas stretched wide before me, the colors brilliant and untamed. I’m no longer a prisoner of my parents' madness; I’m the master of my fate, stepping boldly into a world unencumbered by their darkness. And as we walk, leaving the chaos of my childhood shattered behind us, I feel a sense of liberation unlike anything I’ve known. The future awaits, uncharted and terrifying, but with a new power growing in my chest—a promise that they won’t dictate my life any longer. It’s time to rewrite my story.

"You ready for what's next?" Five asks quietly as we reach the bar where our bikes are parked, casting away the firelight behind us.

"Absolutely," I whisper, and as the sun breaks over the horizon, painting the sky with shades of hope, I take in the moment, filled with a resounding belief: I will rise from the ashes.