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CHAPTER 30

“L ove doesn’t end with dying. Or leave with the last breath. For someone you’ve loved deeply, love doesn’t end with death.”

-John Addey

Wilder

Death was but a product of life, an alternative form of being in which a physical entity moved into something more spiritual. At least that’s what one of my foster mothers had said. Of course that had been after she’d received a particularly brutal beating from her aggressive husband.

I’d saved a special method of death for the man. At least movies were good for something. I’d been provided with several fantastic methods of murder.

I glanced at the screen. A sixth sense had told me Xander would be calling.

“Yes?” I answered.

“You need to know something. Five women have disappeared. Five fucking women.”

As soon as he uttered the words, it was as if an icepick had been driven into my gut. Our father had continued to play a game, only this time he was fulfilling his prophecy.

“How would you know this?”

“Because they were five of our former contestants, Wilder. The bastard hired goons to use their fantasies against them. That means several other contestants could be in jeopardy. Christopher is scrambling to try and find them.”

“Two more,” I said under my breath.

“Why two?”

“He’ll need eight women. Make certain Jessica and Sara are protected.”

“They’re safe, both protected. Now, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“To him, eight was the perfect number. Eight pairs of shoes. Eight suits. I used to count them when I was little and hiding in his closet.”

“Jesus.” Xander whistled. “I don’t think I want to learn your memories. Then who is the eighth victim?” I didn’t bother answering. “Ah, fuck me. He wants the lovely prosecutor.”

“Yes. We were photographed together. The bait is too good for him to pass up.”

“Wow. Also, because you’re the newly crowned king. According to his gospel. You know what’s sick?” Xander asked. His tone was different than usual. “That was something forged in my mind. I do remember hearing him jabbering on about his rules. His gospel.”

“I’m sorry, brother.” I had a fleeting memory of that as well.

“You have no reason to be sorry, Wilder. All three of us carry a heavy burden. The scars run deep.”

Yes, they did.

“It seems Daddy dearest has made this very personal.” I gritted my teeth, every muscle in my body tensing.

“Yes, it would seem so. Don’t worry. As I said, the bait had been dropped. Our buddy Drew will make contact one way or the other. We will slaughter the fucker. But I don’t mind telling you, I don’t like this shit.”

“Neither do I, but it’s time to take out our vengeance on the freak. Plus, we’re very, very good at games.” The bastard would escalate the game because I’d taken away his prize.

Cassandra.

“Yes, I guess you’re right.”

A plan had been made to lure the fucker in the open, but we were playing tit for tat.

“Don’t go soft on me, Xander. That’s not like you.”

Xander laughed. “I have my reasons, but if you were capable of embracing what so many tried to erase from your heart and soul then maybe you’d feel the same way. Family is all that truly matters.”

“You have grown soft, brother.” But even as I uttered the words, my thoughts drifted to Cassandra as they’d done so many times when I was embroiled in unforgiving anger. She was the second pure thing I’d ever experienced in my life, the first forced to face the wrath of a man who’d learned to hate what he hadn’t been able to possess.

So my foster parent had hired men to destroy the one good thing I’d experienced in my life.

Now another monster threatened to do it again.

Cassandra was so self-aware, fierce in her every action while still carrying the hint of innocence I’d come to covet.

Something I hadn’t been allowed because of the blood flowing through my veins. She’d acted so defiant in her suggestions on how to deal with Cain Demarco, yet she had no understanding what the man was capable of or how his evil could eventually swallow her whole.

“If that’s the case, Wilder, then so be it. There’s a difference in why I will fight to the death if necessary in order to eliminate our father’s evil. I will die to try and protect Jessica. I’ll ask you a question. Will you do the same for Cassandra Penticoff? If you can’t, send her far away from our world. If you don’t, you’ll never recover from the evil penetrating our veins.”

Rage was a formidable emotion, yet rarely productive. It was only in the calmest moments when all emotions were carefully locked away that the best decisions could be made.

Control was vital.

And at the moment, I had none.

All because one woman had dragged me from the depths of despair.

“Do you know what the old articles in the newspapers called Daddy dearest?” I asked.

“You’re avoiding, but fine. Have it your way. The Grim Reaper?”

“The Scorekeeper. Evidently, he left counts of those he’d killed and others that were on his list. He counted the missing body parts too.”

Xander exhaled. “Such a sick bastard. It’s time to even the score.”

“Yes, brother, but make no mistake. One or all of us could end up dead.”

He hesitated, but only briefly. “Then so be it.”

I ended the call and took a swig of my drink, still staring out the window as lightning creating an artful pattern across the sky.

I’d read that many mental illnesses were transferred from parent to child. I’d been called evil so many times in my life I’d never thought of my desire for violence as anything but normal.

Maybe now I could allow the demons to rest. I knew exactly what I was.

A fucking legacy.

A laugh bubbled to the surface.

Then so be it. With both Xander’s and Zach’s help, we’d orchestrated a plan, something that should draw our father’s attention.

“Daddy!” The sharp sound, based in a long-forgotten memory, almost made me drop my drink.

I allowed the scene to play out in my mind, the images as stark and cold as the sensations that had once nearly torn me apart. Now they merely played like a cheap thriller movie.

“My son. My legacy. You’ll be a king one day, boy. I’m going to make certain of it. You’ll rule the world.”

I would never forget the bastard’s laugh or the fact I’d accused him of having paint on his hands, red being my favorite color, when in fact he’d been brazen enough to return home with blood on his hands.

My sweet mother had freaked, the other two kids crying in response. That hadn’t been the first time he’d knocked her across the room, but it was close to the last since a few days after that, the fucker had murdered her.

The visions slowly faded, but not the rage that I’d learned to control.

Whoever coined the phrase ‘karma is a bitch’ had no understanding of the Blackwell family. Although perhaps on this day, I should call myself a member of the Demarco family. In addition to the few gruesome details regarding the murders over two decades before, my buddy in the police department had supplied a photograph of the bastard who’d ruined my life.

The grainy photographs captured of the man in shackles being paraded in and out of a courtroom hadn’t done the man justice.

I pulled the picture of Dr. Cain Demarco, his loving wife Ava, and his three children clinging to one or the other parent into my hands. Even though the two adults were smiling, it should have been easy to see evil in the man’s eyes.

The man wanted what didn’t belong to him. I could either allow my lovely guest to provide the help she continued to insist on or lock her away. Only no lock had ever prevented the man’s three sons from obtaining entrance to any facility or any vault. Nothing would keep the Scorekeeper from reaching his goal.

He’d waited far too long to make that happen, escaping with a single thing on his mind.

Making his sons fulfill his legacy.

A ragged exhale was pulled from my throat and I tossed the photograph onto the end table. I doubted the bastard looked like that today. Hopefully, the fucker had been gutted by his fellow prisoners.

I moved away from the table on purpose, determined to continue going over the plan my brothers and I had discussed. It certainly wasn’t foolproof by any sense of the word, but with the bastard making actual contact with Cassandra, it was only a matter of time before he laid claim to another beautiful creature who didn’t belong to him.

Setting a trap for a human being wasn’t only about luring them with whatever he or she hungered for, but also about timing. Of course cunning maneuvers were also involved, but those were innate within a person. That was one of the main reasons people were either successful in war or a complete flop.

And as I reminded my brothers, we were in a war with our father. It was personal to a point given he was considered ‘family.’ However, humanity would benefit from his extermination. He was simply filth required to be cleansed.

A slight smile curled on my face as the thoughts continued shifting back and forth in my mind. As my phone pinged, I took a deep breath, staring out at the water lapping against the shore. Another storm had left the day gray and windy, but to me, it was the perfect weather.

Much like the evening when my mother had… died.

Time to even the score.

Time to fulfill my destiny.