Page 117 of The Forgotten

Standing, I walk quickly to catch my father, where he’s glaring at the doors.

“Think about what would happen if we open the doors,” I murmur softly. I don’t want him to think I’m challenging him, because he’ll simply open them anyway.

When he dies, I want to be the one to kick him off this mortal coil.

“Shit,” he sighs. “Start the evacuation and call the fire department.”

Making eye contact with Dorian, I nod at him and he lifts his phone to make the call while yelling at everyone to get the fuck out. I no longer have my phone, so I’m unable to make the call. A gorgeous, burned, dark haired beauty made off with it.

“We’re evacuating!” I yell, directing my father toward the front door. There’s a sea of people as the manor continues to burn. He doesn’t really care about the house, insurance will pay for him to rebuild it.

I just don’t plan for him to make it alive through the night. He’s hurt our tiny dancer long enough. I need to use the chaos to my advantage. I have gloves in my joggers and I pull them out to tug them on slowly.

My father doesn’t pay attention as I lead him out a side door at the last minute, which exits us into one of the gardens. It’s dormant and only a few winter flowers survive, but he and I need to have a conversation in private.

“It’s so much quieter here,” he mutters, looking around. Not far from us, I can still hear the shouts as people continue to shuttle others from the house. Even still, it’s the middle of the night and people will be upstairs sleeping.

The reason so many people were caught unaware in the ballroom is because they passed out from drink and exhaustion. Dad made certain their glasses were always full, and the whores did a very good job keeping them occupied.

Unfortunately, my father doesn’t value life or service, and the whores are dead or dying as well.

“Did you hear anything from your guards?” I ask innocently.

“Ronan admitted that he left her in the ballroom,” he says. “I broke his neck for his admission. He’s still alive. I left him to burn. I figured that was sufficient punishment. He’ll feel every lick of the fire and be unable to pull himself out of the house.”

Damn. My father has a very twisted way of punishing people. Shoving my hand in my pocket nonchalantly, I rub my finger over my knife. It won’t be a prolonged death due to time constraints, but he’ll know it’s by my hand.

“So the little dancer is gone,” I say, though I mean in a different way than he thinks. Once things settle, I’ll have to go after her with my brothers.

I hope she runs hard and fast from us. It’ll be safer for her.

“I wasn’t done with her!” he yells, his expression full of disgust and distress. “The only upside is that my competitors are dead and we can scoop up all of their business.”

Hmmm.I don’t think so. I have no interest in his work and I never have. To keep people from coming after us, my brothers and I will step in to fill the gap in leadership. There are men who enjoy the trappings that wealth affords them, and I expect we’ll be able to use that to our advantage.

Moving closer with my knife in my hand, I nod sympathetically.

“It’ll be easy to believe that a candle lit the fire,” I muse. After all, the flames began with the curtains. A guard lit several up with table candles before walking out of the room.

My brothers and I didn’t know this was his plan until all of the doors were locked and the screams began minutes later as the fire began to rage. By then, it was too late to check on Róisin.

Dad chuckles, proud of himself, and doesn’t notice anything is amiss until I stab him in the throat and wrap my hand around his mouth. He gurgles on his own blood as he reaches for the button that’ll kill my brothers and I.

“No,” I growl, knocking it out of his hand so that it skitters across the snow. He made it so that the button will trigger all three of our kill switches. It’s taking ride or die to an entirely new meaning.

Wrestling him to the ground, I hold him down as he thrashes around. I manage to keep most of the blood off of me, and the cold seeps deep into my bones now that I’m only wearing a pair of sweatpants and a thin shirt. My father was so involved in his own thoughts, he never mentioned it.

His distraction is the only reason this is going so well. The blood stains the snow red, and I kneel on his back to keep it from getting on me. Finally, the life bleeds out of his eyes as well, and the shackles begin to break away.

Standing, I walk over to pick up the kill switch’s trigger and pocket it before dragging my father to a ditch where they’re fixing the basement. It’s being extended and at the moment, it’s just a hole. Dropping him in, I smirk as I pick up a forgotten shovel and quickly cover up my misdeeds.

“Deacon!” Dorian yells, making me wince. I’m going to have to pretend that I was taking a leak back here. Tossing the shovel back where it belongs, I trudge through the path to the front of the house.

“Sorry, I had to piss,” I shrug, noticing the way people chuckle under their breath. “Is the fire department on the way?”

Dorian’s gaze is full of questions but he simply nods. He notices that Dad isn’t with me and is smarter than to mention it.

“We’ll be answering questions all night,” he finally says.