Page 37 of Quiet Rage (Wicked Falls Elite #5)

Kellen

Fuck it. I’ve given her more than enough time. Three days is enough for anybody. Besides, we have things to talk about.

And that’s what I need to focus on, driving to her house. This isn’t an excuse to spend a little one-on-one time, no matter what my dick thinks. I am too hard up for her. It’s been too long since I’ve touched her.

But this is more important. This is her safety. After three days of trying to line up a safe house for her and her parents, I finally have good news. I can bring her something more than heartache and disappointment and betrayal.

Not that I think it will wipe the slate clean, but it’s a start. And I know I’ll sleep a hell of a lot better knowing she’s someplace safe, where Dad can’t find her.

Her car is parked in front of the house. I don’t see her parents’ cars—there’s a stroke of good luck. I can’t show myself to them right now. It’s bad enough knowing the way she’ll look at me. I can tell myself it doesn’t matter, but that would be a lie.

Another car pulls in behind me as I sit and watch the house, where there are no lights on inside that I can see.

She must be up in her room, facing the backyard.

It’s a little early for bed, but she could be watching something on her laptop.

Why am I so fucking nervous? I have good news.

I was so fired up to get over here as soon as I had the plans in place, but now I can’t help but hesitate, trying to come up with what to say so I don’t make any mistakes.

While I’m doing that, the person in the car behind me opens their door.

Recognition shoots its way through me like lightning and freezes me in place when I catch him in my mirror.

Dante, the fucker. He must not recognize my plates—he doesn’t even glance at the truck, instead walking quickly toward the house. With purpose.

His head swings back and forth, searching for witnesses, before he rounds the house instead of using the front door.

There’s no reason for him to be there other than the obvious. As soon as he’s out of sight, I open my door, closing it softly, moving fast through the dark. He’s dead. He is fucking dead, and it’s his own fucking fault. All he had to do was let it go, but he couldn’t.

I slow in my progress once I’m close enough to hear him walking around in the backyard. There’s a bare bulb burning over the back door. I see him in the light from it, gazing up at Tamson’s bedroom window. It’s when he makes a move for the back door, looking determined, that I spring on him.

He came here to fuck her. Probably to kill her. He thought he had that right.

Recognition crosses his features before my fist connects with his nose. “You motherfucker!” My next punch is straight to his breadbasket, sending all of the air out of his lungs in one big run, doubling him over.

But he recovers quickly, throwing an arm up to block my next punch, driving a fist into my ribs when my side is exposed. Blood drips down his face, but that doesn’t keep him from delivering a roundhouse to my jaw.

I barely feel it. Adrenaline is pumping, fueled by hate.

I hate this motherfucker. I hate him for what he wants to do to her.

For not being able to let it go. “Can’t say it’s just a job now, can you?

” I growl, shoving him hard against the wall under the kitchen window.

When he tries to push away from the stucco surface, I take him by the shoulders and shove him harder, making his head bounce off the wall.

But it’s when my hands close around his neck that his eyes bulge like this is serious. “Wait,” he chokes, pounding at my arms, shoulders, ribs, anything he can reach.

“You just couldn’t stay away,” I grunt close to his face. The light from the bulb over the door makes his blood look black compared to the shade of red his skin is turning.

“I…know…” he wheezes. He’s still trying to fight, but he’s getting weaker. “Who…killed…”

“I don’t fucking care.” I press my thumbs against his windpipe, ready to end it.

“Mom!” It’s a croak, weak, pitiful. “Killed…your mother…”

It is the only thing he could’ve said to stop me. The one and only thing to make me let go of his worthless neck. He gasps, sagging, coughing. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I whisper, panting, resisting my urges.

He shakes his head at first, holding up a hand, coughing every time he tries to breathe. “Spit it out,” I demand, taking him by the shoulders and hauling him upright.

“Your mom.” It’s nothing more than a throaty gurgle. “I know who killed her.”

“She died in a car accident, fucker.” The back of his head taps the wall again when I shake him. “Nice try.”

He gives his head a quick shake. “No. No accident.”

He’s making it up. Trying to buy a few more seconds of his worthless life. “And the Easter Bunny is real,” I reply.

“I’ll tell you who did it. But you have to let me go when I do.

” He has to sense my indecision and doubt, because the words come out quickly, on top of each other while he rubs his throat.

He knows he doesn’t have much time. “I will. I know who did it, and I know why. Only if you swear you’ll let me go. ”

“Who was it? And why?”

“It was your father.”

“Bullshit,” I snap.

“Do you really think he wouldn’t?” He even laughs.

“You know who he is. You know what he can do. She was going to take you away, because she knew, too,” he whispers through coughs that twist his face with the pain he deserves.

“She knew. She wanted to take you away from him. So he stopped her. That’s the truth. ”

It’s not possible.

I know who he is.

I remember his grief.

But was it grief? Was it really an accident?

Nobody denies him.

In the middle of so much confusion and so many questions, only one thing is clear.

Dante’s eyes bulge again when my hands ring his neck again. “No!” he wheezes, stunned at my betrayal. The stupid shit. Like I had any intention of letting him go.

This time, there’s no mercy. Not until his body sags, eyes still open and staring blankly at me.

The only truth I know is her protection.

There’s no way he would give up if I left him alive.

I don’t know if he was telling the truth.

I only know she’s safe from him when his body hits the ground in a motionless heap.

For now, the only thing I can do is pick him up and drape him over my shoulder before going in through the back door. It’s unlocked—Jesus fuck, it would’ve taken him nothing to go in and do whatever he wanted. We’re going to have to have a talk about safety.

Just days ago, Tamson was lying on her back across this table. Now it’s Dante, whose body I’ll have to figure out a place to stash later.

“Tamson?” I call out, since it doesn’t occur to me until too late that she might get freaked out when she hears me down here. “It’s just me. I have good news.”

And a dead body, but she doesn’t have to see him.

No answer. Could she be asleep? I don’t hear the shower running up there as I take the stairs. The light is on in her room, the door is open. She must have heard me come in.

“Tamson. Are you—” The question dies in my throat when I find her lying on the bed, still dressed except for her shoes, completely motionless. Not even so much as a twitch when I’m talking full volume.

I know what she did before I spot the bottle on the nightstand.

“No. No!” I’m across the room in three long strides, picking her head up in one hand, slapping her cheeks with the other. “Wake up. Wake up! What did you do? Why did you do this?”

When that doesn’t work, I shake her hard enough to make her head flop like a ragdoll. “God, no. Please!” But God doesn’t answer. I don’t deserve mercy. She’s dying, or dead, and I couldn’t stop it.

I will not accept this.

Tamson …I cradle her against my chest, lifting her off the bed, carrying her down the stairs as slowly and carefully as I can when what I want to do is run.

I can’t risk hurting her, not now. “You’re going to be fine,” I tell her, carrying her out to the truck, placing her in the passenger seat and buckling her in before running around to the other side.

“You’re going to be fine,” I insist, peeling away from the curb. Her head lolls like she’s already gone. But I won’t accept that. I push the idea away with both hands.

Because I can’t lose her now. Not like this. The cars around me are a blur thanks to the pressure I put on the gas pedal, punching the horn over and over to warn anyone in front of me to get the hell out of the way. I need to get her to the hospital.

All I can do is hope it's not too late.