Page 118 of Thorns of Deceit

“Mom,” I cried out.

She didn’t answer, her quivering lips ashen.

I hurled myself off the bed and collapsed into her, my knees hitting the floor. Her body was warm and fragile, and her skin smelled like tobacco.

“Mom, it’s me,” I rasped, tears streaming down my face.

I cupped her cheek, forcing her to look at me, but her stare was flat and empty, like a mirror without a reflection.

“What have you done to her, you bastard?” I snapped, glaring at him over my shoulder.

Duncan chuckled, but there was no lightness to it. “She told me you were dead. Shestoleyou from me.” He shrugged and wet his lips. “So, she owed me a new child.”

He drew on his cigar, the smoke unfurling and drifting through the cold room.

“First, she had to stop drinking like a lush,” he added.

Tears carved hot tracks down my face, each one tasting of salt and something bitter and metallic. It was my grief, and with it came the slow, sickening realization of everything she’d endured these last five years.

My chest went hollow, each jagged inhale coming harder than the last.

“You hurt my mother,” I hissed, the words scraping out of me on a throat gone raw.

He laughed. “Don’t be stupid, Raven. I fucked her.”

She spent all these years enduring his cruelty, and I didn’t save her. Goddammit, the guilt gnawed at my chest, threatening to collapse inward.

But I wouldn’t fail her now. I would save her and take care of the others, and I’d end this animal for laying a hand on her.

My eyes went to the twisted fuck who dared call himself my father.

Duncan lazed in the chair, smoking his cigar. A gun sat on his lap, and there was nothing more I wanted than to take it and put a bullet in his mouth.

But first I’d make him pay for hurting my mom. The need to see him suffer rose in my throat like bile. Even with the self-revulsion coiling through me, the urge felt right, and I knew what I had to do.

The bloodthirsty thought struck me like a physical blow, but it didn’t feel wrong. In fact, it felt inevitable.

“You know, I’ll give her her freedom if you stay,” he drawled, completely oblivious to my thoughts.

My lips curled in distaste, but I didn’t answer. My silence seemed to agitate him, his silver hair mussing as he combed animpatient hand through it. He finally bellowed, “Your mother kept you from me!”

“No, my mother saved me from you.” I didn’t care if it was the last thing I ever did on this earth, I would kill him. “Where is my husband?”

“You are my daughter!” he roared. The ire seeped out of him in gallons. “She’s my wife. You two are supposed to obey.”

I flinched at his outburst, but I refused to cower.

“Where are my husband and brothers-in-law?” He laughed maniacally, refusing to answer. “You are going to die if you hurt them,” I spat, hatred burning like acid in the pit of my stomach.

He would die anyhow, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

“At least you inherited my strength,” he praised as if proud. Delusional. The man belonged in a psych ward. “I’d hate to see you be a wimp like your mother.”

He reached for his phone and called someone.

“Bring him in,” he said, his voice tinged with a Scottish lilt.

Suspicion slithered up my spine. I knew exactly who “him” meant. A moment later, the door opened, and Aiden was led in, his hands tied behind his back, with three men following closely behind with weapons aimed at him.