I remind myself I’m not so above it all. Not now that I’ve given myself over to Emmett willingly. Even with my life hanging on the line, resting in my father’s hands, the haunting memory of his touch still plagues me. The torture and the pleasure all blurs together. The times he inflicted violence on me didn’t seem so different from when he was moving inside of me. Our movements and noises were almost the same.
I meant everything I had said when I was trying to convince him to release me. There was an undeniable connection between us, but it obviously wasn’t strong enough to inspire him to save me. I watch him shift uncomfortably, his hands in his pockets, looking almost as dejected as his sister on the other side of the room.
What a strange world these people live in where torture and hostages and death threats are so normal. No wonder Lily tried to warn me and was so scared shitless of these people. Seeing how cold and cavalier Thomas can be with a young girl’s life on the line, I’m not surprised his kids and friends’ kids are so sadistic.
My disgusted gaze drifts from Emmett, who is decidedly avoiding me. And I realize all at once that no one is within a few feet of me. They’re each distracted and dispersed into their own corners of the room. It’s now or never. If he’s not going to do anything to help me, and my dad’s intervening isn’t guaranteed by a long shot, I might as well try to make a run for it.
My eyes are bright and feverish as they dart around the room, noting everyone’s position one last time. No one is paying attention to me, probably assuming I’m surrounded enough not to try anything. My fingers twitch against the edge of my chair, and my heart drops knowing if I don’t do something right now, I won’t have another chance.
I leap out of the chair and bolt toward the door, my heart plummeting to my stomach. I instantly hear Thomas shout behind me followed by feet pounding in my direction, but I don’t stop. My throat chokes as I race for the front door faster than I have ever ran in my life.
I feel a surge of hope as my hand grips the handle, flinging it open so fast I almost hit myself in the head as I waver with the surge of adrenaline and panic. I come to a dead halt at the front doormat. A figure is blocking my way, and I look up expecting to see an unfamiliar guard or house staff member ready to snatch me up and return me to my captor. I scream, thinking I’ve been caught. I know the reprimand for an attempted escape will be brutal.
But instead I see a familiar face. One that I know but am unable to fully comprehend. I am almost too panicked to fully take in the features, but my brain slowly pieces it together.
Standing before me is the man responsible for all of this. My father. Theodore Nickelson.
There’s a quiet rage burning behind his eyes. He’s alone with only a gun in hand for protection.
“Ophelia,” he announces in an unreadable tone.
I never expected to meet my father. I had no intentions of ever trying to find him. But if I ever did have some kind of fantasy about us meeting for the first time, this was definitely not one of the scenarios I pictured. Not by a long shot.
“Theodore…” I blurt. “Or I guess…Dad…” I am overcome with anger, wanting to lash out at him for never being around. For being such a shit loser that he started all of this mess and nearly got me killed over his pathetic gambling habit and need for vengeance.
I never noticed in pictures, but now that he’s standing here in front of me, I can see the resemblance between him and I. Though I certainly favor my mother, our eyes are the same shape. And the curve of his lips is the same as what I’ve studied in my own reflection every day. It stirs a strange tenderness in me, but it’s squashed by the threat lurking behind me. And the fact that he is the reason I am here in the first place. Any ounce of curiosity or kindness I could feel for him quickly fades back to anger and resentment.
“I?
?m surprised to see you here,” I gulp. But I quickly remember my life is still in danger. There’s no time for any of that now.
His eyes dart to something over my shoulder as the army of marching feet rapidly approach. His hand brushes my shoulder, pushing me aside.
“Kill him!” Thomas’s voice shouts from behind me suddenly.
I am barely shoved aside just enough to gauge how far away Thomas is from me when a deafening crack shoots through my ear drums, following by an incessant ringing. I can hear nothing else as I look to my father’s hand, raised and on the trigger, smoke trailing from the barrel of his gun.
My eyes dart over in Thomas’s direction, but everything is moving in slow motion. I see him falling to the ground. Blood instantly pools around his head. I take a couple of steps back from my father, my eyes bulging as I look back and forth between my dad’s gun and Thomas’s body. I am deaf and speechless, my eyes blinking rapidly as I try to process the scene before me.
Thomas is dead. My dad shot him. My brows raise as my mouth falls open, my palm shooting up to cover it. I step back again, searching for something behind me to steady against, but there’s nothing there. My gaze wanders around as my brain struggles to settle on my next move.
I feel suddenly heavy as my muscles get weak, my head feeling dizzy with a tight feeling in my chest. I replay it in my mind over and over, what bit of it I actually saw. My father’s hand raising, the crack of the gun, Thomas falling to the ground.
This is definitely not the first in-person impression I wanted of my father. But at least if he was going to kill a man right in front of me within seconds of us meeting, it was a terrible man who was going to kill me first if he had the chance.
I look to Emmett who is standing in the parlor doorway, keeping a safe distance from his father. But his wide eyes are glued to the lifeless body laying there. The rest of his cronies and the staff stand there frozen, just as shocked as everyone else.
I study Emmett further, waiting for him to fall apart the way Bernadette is in the corner of my eye. I think I hear her scream, but my ears are still ringing so it’s hard to tell.
Emmett is strangely calm. Shocked, but not upset. I assume it has to be the shock that is keeping him so collected, but then I catch a subtle nod between him and my father. Did Emmett know this was going to happen?
23
Chapter Twenty-Three
We all stand there completely clueless as to what we should do next. Thomas is dead. I’m dumbfounded and have no clue what the fuck is going on. Emmett doesn’t look the least bit bothered that his own father was just shot right before his eyes, but Bernadette’s screams and cries grow more vivid as the ringing in my ears fades.
“Come with us,” my father states suddenly, causing me to jump as he takes me by the arm and leads me to an adjacent room. Emmett follows behind.