Wretched (Never After Series)(70)

“Hi, Dad. You’re late.”

“Bug…” His eyes flick to where Dorothy is unconscious, dried blood around her nostrils from where I broke her nose, mouth gagged as she dangles above the vat of acid. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Just tying up some loose ends.” I scratch my temple with the barrel of my Eagle. “I think I’ve done a lot for you over the years, wouldn’t you agree?”

He swallows, and he takes a step closer, his hands reaching behind him.

I tsk, aiming my gun. “Please, for once in your life, don’t be stupid. I’d hate to have to kill you before you get to see the show.”

“Eveline,” he says. “Let’s talk about this.”

Dorothy groans behind us and his eyes fly back to her, his jaw muscles tensing.

“Oh, good, she’s waking up!” I grin. “Put your gun on the ground and go sit in the chair I set up just for you.”

“Evel—”

“Sit!” I yell, my finger jolting against the button. Dorothy’s body drops until only her feet are submerged in the acid. I pause, blowing out a breath to collect myself. “In the chair, Father. I don’t like to repeat myself.”

He does as I ask, his fiery gaze never leaving mine.

Dorothy’s eyes blink as she comes to. When she wakes up fully, she starts to flail, the acid solution splashing up her skin.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I singsong. “There’s only a couple more minutes until you start to feel it. You’re just making it worse for yourself.” I turn back to Dad. “As I was saying, I feel like I’ve bent over backward to accommodate you since you came out of prison. I’ve grown for you. Fixed all your problems. Killed anyone who got in our way. And what do I get as thanks?”

“Bug,” he tries again.

I press my finger into the button again, and Dorothy drops, letting out a muffled scream through the gag in her mouth.

Laughing, I scrunch my face. “Yeah, starting to burn? That’s hydrofluoric acid for you. Do you want to know what it’s doing as it melts through your skin? It has fluoride ions that migrate through the body, destroying tissue until it lodges in your bones.”

Dorothy flails more, snot and tears pouring from her eyes.

“Of course, if I’m feeling nice, maybe I’ll just drown you first.” I tilt my head. “Think Nessa will welcome you home?” I point the gun back at Dad. “Any last words for her, Daddy?”

His jaw muscles tense and his nostrils flare, but he turns his head to the side, not even looking her in the face.

I click my tongue. “No? Okay. Let me ask you this.” I drop Dorothy again until she’s waist deep, her face now the shade of a ripe tomato from how hard she screams. “Did you know she killed Nessa?”

He licks his lips and shakes his head. But I can tell by the look on his face that he did.

“You really never cared about us at all, did you? We’re all just means to an end. Well, congratulations, Dad. We’re at the end of the road now.”

A noise distracts me, and I twist toward it, seeing Zeke standing in the open doorway of the greenhouse, his eyes wide and his jaw hanging open as he takes in the scene.

Great.

And then my body is thrown, my gun slamming into the button as it flies from my hand, dropping Dorothy in the acid entirely. There are hands around my neck, and my air is immediately cut off, my father lying on top of me, the veins on his throat protruding through his tattoos. I flail, my nails digging into the skin of his arm as I try to free myself.

But it’s no use. His body size alone puts me at enough of a disadvantage where I’m shit out of luck.

“You stupid fucking bitch. You think you have the power? You’ve never had any real power here.” His spit flies onto my cheek, and my lungs are seizing, my heartbeat loud in my ears as my body begs for a breath. My vision blurs and I toss my head back, trying like hell to get out of his strangling hold. I can barely make out Zeke, standing still, watching. Doing nothing, the way he always has.

Coward.

My body grows limp, my mind growing hazy and I give in, realizing this is it. My last moments spent are in a roomful of poppies at the hand of the man I was so desperate to have love me.

A sharp sound rings out, and a heavy weight drops on my chest, air flowing back into my lungs at an alarming rate as my dad’s hands relax their grip. Something wet drips down the side of my neck, and the smell of blood hits my nostrils, making me wretch. Suddenly, his body is lifted and tossed to the side. I gasp, my hands flying to my throat, which is so tender that I wince at the touch. I’m sucking in greedy gulps of air as I stare up at the blurry face of Zeke, a gun at his side.

He reaches out a hand, helping me to stand, and wraps his arm around my waist to keep me steady.

“Thank you,” I rasp, my voice barely over a whisper, my vocal cords raw from the trauma. I scan the room, noting the bullet hole in my dad’s chest, his eyes staring vacant and wide up at the ceiling, and then over to the barrel of acid, Dorothy’s body submerged.

They’re both dead.

It’s done.

Surprisingly, all I feel is numb.

“Come on,” Zeke says. “I’ll help you clean it up.”





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