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SHILOH

M y gut twists. My heart is weighed down to the floor.

The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

I haven’t visited my father in months. Since the day I blackmailed him into signing the contract that’d enable me to live here unbothered. Close to Kaleb.

In a way, Dad won that day. I blew my cover. Showed him that after years of manipulation, Kaleb still mattered to me the most.

His days of fucking us over are over.

Footsteps approach the door. I know, without seeing the person, that it isn’t Dad.

Ronan Talbot is a snake, head to toe. You wouldn’t hear him coming. His staff, you wouldn’t hear them, either. My father fired people for much less than making noise as they walked.

The closer the man inside my dad’s home gets, I realize I’m right .

While my father is tall, imposing, and lean, this person isshort. Pudgy.

“Dr. Reynolds.” Kaleb bristles. He shoves me behind him, never letting go of my hand. “Fucker.”

“He’s alone?” This wasn’t a part of the plan. I was sure I scared Kaleb’s psychiatrist back into hiding. I peek around him, squinting my eyes to see through the frosted glass in the door. “Where’s your mom? Where’s Dad?”

Deep down, I already know the answer. My dad and his mom are either dead or badly injured.

I’m surprised by how that fact doesn’t bother me.

They’ve earned it, both of them.

What scares me is having Dr. Reynolds here instead.

Dad might be—or might have been —a terrible person. Violent. Short-fused. Hateful.

A predictable one. I could handle him.

This psycho isn’t something either of us have anticipated.

We have no idea whatto expect from him.

I thought it was bad before. That Dr. Reynolds just wanted to use us for research purposes or to write a book about us.

As much as I loathed the idea, in a way, it was harmless.

Him being here, hurting people to get to Kaleb—that’s a nightmare.

Shit.

Kaleb moves to block me from his therapist again.

“Kaleb Leo Blackwood.” I hear the therapist clapping his hands once. His voice is warm as if he’s welcoming us to his home. “My favorite patient. I’ve been expecting you. ”

Of course he guessed it was Kaleb behind the mask. My man is his obsession. He’s been studying him for years.

“You had orders,” my stepbrother hisses.

A chill runs up my spine. I would’ve hightailed it out of here had I been Dr. Reynolds.

Except he’s too far gone to recognize the threat for what it is.

“Well.” Another two loud footsteps toward us. His shoes click on the floor. “This distance between us wasn’t working for me.”

“Where are they?”

Kaleb doesn’t give a fuck about them, no. He’s buying us time, dragging information out of the doctor.

“You care about them? That’s new.” By his tone, I can tell he’s just as curious as he’d ever been. “An interesting development.”

Kaleb’s murderous energy vibrates in the air, almost choking me.

“Stop where you are.” His grip on my wrist threatens to crack the bones.

“I missed you, son.”

“Not your son.”

I want to see what’s going on there. I need to be a part of it. To help Kaleb, in case this man has more tricks up his unhinged sleeve.

I won’t. Any movement I make will distract Kaleb. Will make him vulnerable .

But it hurts, to be this helpless. This useless. My heart, most of all, demands that I come to his defense like I wouldn’t and couldn’t eleven years ago.

“Kaleb, you wound me.” My hackles rise. He’s too close to us. I glance between Kaleb’s legs and there it is, the tips of Dr. Reynolds’s tethered brown shoes. Fuck, that can’t be good. “I had such high hopes for you. Thought you’d appreciate that I came here. The things I’ve done. The connection I’ve tried to establish with you through my actions. I understand you better, too, now that I’ve killed your other parent. You started it, and I finished it. Isn’t it wonderful?”

My throat locks. I try to swallow. Try again.

Give up.

Because a repressed memory surges to the surface, and I can’t breathe.

“Grease?” I asked Kaleb from my place on the floor. I sat at his side, my brow scrunching. I wasn’t sure I heard him right. “He died from grease?”

He tilted his head, the black holes he had for eyes staring at me. For a moment, I thought he’d stay silent. Kaleb wasn’t a talker. Even around me, there was only so much he’d say.

“Yes. Grease,” he repeated eventually. “I was hungry. Made a mess when I seared the pork on the pan. Grease spilled on the floor. I cleaned some of it up. Some of it I missed. Dad came back later that night, drunk. He slipped, hit his head on the corner of the table first.” Kaleb makes a boom sound. “Chair second.” Boom. “Floor third.” Boom .

My lips tugged up. My teeth flashed. I believed with my whole heart that, for once, God cared about someone who deserved His attention.

It’d never been me, and that was okay.

As long as He saved Kaleb. As long as He brought him here to save me. “That’s it? Are you serious?”

“I am.” He remained as emotionless as ever. “Three blows to thehead. He passed out while Mom and I were in our bedrooms, sleeping. He bled out. By the morning, he was dead.”

Kaleb’s death grip on my wrist tightens. A wake-up call.

A reminder to stay put, no matter what I hear.

“I don’t need an accomplice,” he growls. “And stop calling me son. I don’t need a father figure.”

Dr. Reynolds laughs, his ha, ha, ha, coming off condescending as fuck. Reflexively, I tug on my hand, desperate to break free from Kaleb’s hold. Eager to round him and punch that asshole’s nose.

Except the hand curled around my wrist isn’t a human’s hand. It isn’t made of skin, tendons, muscles, and bones.

It’s all steel, locking me in place.

“You don’t?” Dr. Reynolds is missing the signs of Kaleb’s growing aggression, or he just doesn’t care. Either way, he goes on undeterred. “Seemed like you needed your old man before you killed him. He did set an example for you, didn’t he? He taught you how to hit someone, how to do it right. The history of your hospital visits is proof of that. It tells a long story, years of inexplicable wounds and injuries.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes. My body presses against Kaleb’s in an attempt to offer him comfort. To let him take, take, take everything from me. It’ll always hurt, burn, and torture me to hear about the abuse.

Kaleb might brush it off. His cold, borderline sociopathic character might steel him. He might not care. The emotional scars might not be there.

I, on the other hand, can’t stand it. I want to scream and cry. I want to run into my old home and drive a knife into his mom’s eyes. If she isn’t dead already, I’d stab every inch of her body until she is. And then some.

Not for allowing the abuse to go on for as long as it had. She must’ve been terrified. Terrorized. Scared out of her mind.

The fact that she hadn’t bothered checking on him not once is what gets me. It fucks with my head.

I’m also so very proud of him for putting an end to it.

My teeth grind. My muscles are aching to cause serious damage. “Kaleb.”

“Shh.”

“He taught you how to make a person bleed.” His doctor is fully committed to his monologue. So much so that he isn’t commenting on our interaction. “Ironically, this knowledge he offered you was what cost him his life. Yes, I connected the dots. I figured out it was you, my boy.”

He keeps repeating that stupid, mistaken observation, and that, too, makes me want to scream.

Kaleb’s dad isn’t the reason for his son’s violent tendencies.

Kaleb didn’t learn shit from his father. Kaleb was born this way.

For some unknown reason, he’d been doing his best to avoid harming anyone for years. Or maybe it’d been a desire he hadn’t been aware of. Maybe that first blood drawn was what woke his dormant, dark desires up.

Regardless of what triggered it, it’d been there from day one.

My hot, cold, murderous stepbrother. My unhinged man.

For one satisfying moment, I imagine him killing his dad. Winding his fingers into his hair, then bashing his head in.

One time. Two times. Three.

Blood stains on the table. Brain matter tainting the floor.

Masterpiece.

“Where are they?” Kaleb, like me, doesn’t bother correcting Dr. Shithead. He’s deadly focused on us. On getting the information we need.

If our parents are dead, we could waltz right in. Otherwise, we have to be prepared for their resistance.

“I tried doing it your way.” His doctor sounds like he’s smiling. He has no clue who and what he’s facing. “Tried getting inside your head. I started by shooting down the entire staff here. Then I bound these two privileged fucks to their dining room chairs.”

Realization dawns on me as he rambles. He must’ve had my place bugged while I had my back turned to him. That’s how he knew we’d be here today.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid, Shiloh.

“I slammed a hammer into her dad’s face. Ripped your mother’s heart out.”

Neither Kaleb nor I react to this. Their deaths don’t affect us.

On the contrary. It works in our favor .

Since they’re gone and we weren’t the ones to kill them, I’ll inherit all of Dad’s money.

Kaleb could hide while the police interview me. He’d stay away until the inheritance was settled.

After that, we’d be free to buy an island, maybe?

We could.

The way this night has unfolded, Kaleb and I could have everything.

Thanks to Dr. Reynolds.

Thanks to my asshole father as well. Even in his death, he insisted we be portrayed as the perfect family . His words, not mine, as he shared the contents of his will with me.

You and the world will have a constant reminder of who your father is.

I’ll remember him, all right.

Years of manipulation. Of isolating me. The scar on my shoulder.

I’ll remember it and take his money.

I’ll put Dad’s wealth to good use. Into saving Kaleb.

“I killed everyone here while I was wearing this.” Dr. Reynolds laughs.

Kaleb makes a sound in the back of his throat. “What the fuck.”

The thin thread that held my patience together snaps. I shove the fingers of my free hand between Kaleb’s fist and my wrist, prying him off me.

“Shiloh.” I hear his grunt as he tries to catch me.

I’m faster .

That poor excuse for a therapist is taunting my stepbrother. I won’t let him. I won’t.

When I make it to his side, my jaw drops. The fury that’d been boiling my blood morphs into something more. Rage I’ve never known before floods me.

Dr. Reynolds wasn’t talking about what he was wearing on his body. His black coat and wrinkled dark pants are nothing special.

It’s what he has in his hand. An identical mask to Kaleb’s, the white latex one. He must’ve hidden it in his coat.

He’s shoving it into Kaleb’s face now.

“It was quite the experience. Murdering them with this on my face. I get why you did it. Finally, I do.”

I’m one step forward, my hand outstretched to grasp it. Or his throat. His gray hair. The collar of the gray sweater he’s wearing under his coat.

The first drops of rain start to fall on our heads. They slide between my mask and my face.

They’re not what stops me from going after Dr. Reynolds.

It’s Kaleb.

He launches at him first, pushing him hard on the chest. The older man flies back, landing on the floor. Half of his body is on the porch, with the other half inside the house.

“Take me with you!” His begging is pathetic. He sits up while Kaleb and I close in on him, pressing his hands together. “Please. I won’t get in your way, I promise. Let me join you.”

Kaleb wastes no time talking. He raises his large foot, kicking the older man’s chest. The force of the kick has Dr. Reynolds flying further into the house .

“Trick-or-treat!” The sound of the kids on the street is faint. It disappears altogether after I lock the front door behind me.

“Plea—” Cough, cough . “Please. Shiloh, help me out here.”

“Help you out?” Taking notes from Kaleb, I use my foot to shut Dr. Reynolds up. I slam my sneaker on his chest, pinning him to the floor. Behind me, Kaleb’s strong arms envelop my middle. His chin is on the top of my head. “I told you how I felt about you turning my brother into a science project. You were warned.”

I lean back on Kaleb, and he—as if we’ve done this a million times before—bears my weight. He helps me keep my foot on Dr. Reynolds’s chest while I lift the other one and kick him in the face.

Two teeth fly out, leaving a red trail on Dad’s marble floor.

“Good girl.” A whisper in my ear makes me lightheaded. Kaleb squeezes me to his body, his cock poking my back. A sweet, depraved distraction. “My good fucking girl. Give him hell.”

“You just had to come back.” I raise my foot a second time, leaving it in the air.

I don’t kick him.

“Oh, fuck yes.” Thanks to the fierce connection we share, Kaleb understands what I’m telling him without words.

He walks forward, helping me balance my two feet on Dr. Reynolds’s chest.

His fingers roam over my belly, pushing under the waistband of my jeans. With his other hand, he chokes me. Brings my ear to his mouth. “You’re so hot when you’re like this. Being your true self. It’s beautiful, little sister. Fucking stunning.”

“For both of you, I did it for both of you. I had to…” the doctor trails off.

He’s running out of air. I want to have my fun before he dies.

Kaleb presses his finger between my pussy lips, sliding it into my sex.

“Soaking. You’re such a dirty slut for me.” My head falls back on his shoulder while he finger-fucks me. I start protesting when he removes his finger. Then shut up when he presses it to my throbbing clit. “Make yourself come all over my hand, whore. Jump on him, use me. I won’t let go until your panties are ruined.”

I obey him. I jump once on top of Dr. Reynolds’s chest.

He chokes. Coughs. “Stop.”

“Don’t you dare.” Kaleb cuts off a little more of my air supply. “I’ll kill you if you listen to him. I’ll maim you and jerk off to your chopped limbs.”

“Yes.” It’s beyond unhinged, the things that his sickness does to me. I’m trembling with need, my stomach coiling. My climax building inside me. “Yes.”

I’m done testing the waters. I throw myself into it, wrapping my arms around Kaleb’s neck, and begin jumping in earnest. The friction of his finger as I hop up and down is getting me so wet. So desperate.

Crack, crack, crack . Dr. Reynolds’s ribs snap beneath me. The air he’s huffing is his last breath .

I haven’t come yet, though.

Kaleb pushes another two fingers inside me, pressing the heel of his hand to my clit for friction as I jump. “You’re drenching my hand. Such a good girl.”

“I’m your good girl,” I breathe, jumping on the dead man. “Yours.”

“Yes.” He runs his thumb along my throat. Squeezes and releases it. “Fucking my hand like that. Needing me like that. I’m going to make it my life’s mission to ruin you. I’ll humiliate and degrade you. I’ll come on your face while you’re crying for me. You’ll beg me to stop making you come over and over and fucking over.”

“Kaleb, please.”

He moans, and my orgasm shatters me. I scream into my mask, my head thrashing back, eyes glaring at the ceiling.

I’m too weak to keep jumping. Can’t move. Don’t need to.

Kaleb is there. He rubs me relentlessly, wringing every bit of this orgasm out of me.

“You think I’m done with you?” He drags me through the house. Past the bloody foyer. Through the living room and den.

I’m still catching my breath as I count three bodies of Dad’s staff along the way.

Shame, really.

Shame that I don’t care.

“I told you…” I growl.

We pass by other rooms, crossing the mansion until we end up in the dining room .

The room where Dad whipped and belted me. Where he and Kaleb’s mom have been left, just as Dr. Reynolds said. Bound and dead.

My gaze finds Kaleb’s masked face. “Don’t ever be done with me.”

He huffs and throws one of the chairs back, clearing up space for me around the table. He’s made room for me to bend over.

Right there, next to my dead dad.

His mom is on the other side of the table, though Kaleb pays no attention to her.

She’s not important tonight. All that matters is me and this middle finger we’re giving my dad.

“I’ll never be done with you.” Bam and he pushes the side of my face on the solid old wood top of the table. “I’ll always love you. Always.”

My mask has gone askew. My eyes have nowhere to go other than tostare at the hole in Dad’s forehead.

Kaleb leans in so I see his mask while he frees me of my jeans, pushing them down my thighs.

“I’ll always love you.” His cock thrusts inside me in one shove, up to the hilt, his hands firm on my hips as he starts pounding his pierced dick into me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shiloh. You’re so good. The fucking worst. Fuck .”

The table rattles as he pummels into me with abandon. He impales me until my breath leaves my body. Until I come around his cock, until my throat is sore from screaming his name.

His orgasm chases mine, and he empties himself inside me .

“Take it. Every drop.” He shoves more of himself inside me with each word. “Can’t wait to have you swollen. To watch our child grow inside you. Our baby. Ours.”

“Ours,” I repeat. “Ours.”

I’m no longer looking at my mutilated father. Kaleb’s pulling me up, my back up against his sturdy chest. He tears off my mask, then his.

His cock is still inside me while he tilts my head to the side, his lips crashing to mine.

“Ours,” he growls, and I nod in agreement.

Because it terrifies me to say no to him.

But, most importantly, because of this one simple truth.

I’m his and he’s mine.

Nothing and no one will ever come between us again.