One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
It was cathartic, counting because then I wasn’t actually hitting him; no, it was his taunt, the numbers, the thought of my mom suffering the same fate almost a decade ago at that point.
A whip in one hand.
A knife in the other.
“You killed her!” I roared again.
“Shhhh.” Juliet’s tears fell against my cheeks. “Who killed who? Your father? Donovan, talk to me. It’s okay; I’m here.”
“And I’m there,” I voiced hoarsely. “I’m still there … one, two, three.” I counted all over again. “It helps, you know … the numbers. It’s easier that way. Makes it less emotional when you count, when you think of it as inventory…” I shuddered in her lap. “He deserved it. Every stab. Every whip.”
“But you didn’t…” She held me tight. “You didn’t deserve to be the witness, the executioner, the juror; you didn’t, Donovan … never—not then, not now.”
“I did.”
“You’re wrong.”
I sat up and stared her down. “I’m not your savior, Juliet. I couldn’t save her. I refuse to save you.”
She tilted her chin up. “Good, I’ve always believed a girl has to save herself. You aren’t strong enough to save me, Donovan. I’m a woman. I know my worth. I know my strength. Despite the way I’ve been broken, I’m still free. The difference between us is that you aren’t…”
Was she right?
“So…” She pressed a kiss to my mouth, soft, tender, loving, strong. “What happened next?”
I shook my head again, bringing myself back to a time when things were so dark I wondered if the sun even existed. Maybe in the past it simply didn’t.
It was all dark.
All of it.
Ash raining down on my face, I looked into the heavens, smiled, and made my damning choice.
I grabbed the whip and rained holy hell down on my father until he collapsed onto the ground. Blood spewed out of his mouth, creating a river down his neck. I watched for a couple of seconds, consumed with the view in front of me.
Witnessing him bleeding out at my feet, I waited for it for so long, and it was finally upon me. I wanted to remember this moment for as long as I lived, cherish it, and carry it around with me. Gripping onto the knife, I shoved it into his wounded back.
A life for a life.
A kill for a kill.
He stole my mother’s soul, and now I owned his.
His bloody smile was the last thing I saw before he revealed, “She’s not even your mother, you fucking bastard.”
Just like a Phoenix rose above his ashes, the monster created rose up above the river of blood and claimed his crown—his throne, his legacy.
“I didn’t think you had it in you,” Troy announced from the doorway.
Paralyzed, I couldn’t even turn around. “How much did you see?”
“All of it,” he snapped.
“Is it true?”
“Can you handle it?”
I shot around, staring deep into his beady eyes. “Is it fucking true, Troy?”
He held his hands up in a surrendering gesture. “I’m just the messenger, Donovan.”
“Answer my question,” I clenched out, my jaw tight as all hell. “Is. It. True?”
He shrugged. “She was your mother in every way that mattered.”
I jerked back, stunned by his revelation. “Where is she then?”
“Who?”
“Stop playing your damn games! Where. Is. She?”
“Eh.” He pushed off the doorframe. “She died giving birth to you.”
My eyes widened. “How can this be?”
“You should be grateful. At least she didn’t have to endure your father’s recklessness like the slave who raised you as her own. She loved you, Donovan; that much we both know.”
“Troy—”
“No, no, no, the question and answer portion of tonight is now over. We have more important things to discuss.”
“Which are?”
“That you just proved to me that you were always better than your father and that mostly”—he moved toward me and pried the whip from my hands—“you need pain just as much as he did.” Blood from the whip dripped across his fingertips. “Maybe even more than I could have possibly imagined. You need the balance; you need me.” He dropped the whip and put both hands on my shoulders. “We’ll continue this empire together, with you by my side.” He shook his head at my father’s dead body. “Son, we’ll conquer the world.” He abruptly stepped back. “I’ll clean this up. You go take a shower and think about things. We have a lot of work in our future, but first.” He cleaned off his hands and pulled out his cell phone, barking into it, “Send her in.”
“Her?” I repeated, stunned stupid, in shock, afraid, lost. “Who is she?”
His smile revealed white capped teeth. “Yours, she’s yours… Your first. Do enjoy taming your pet, Donovan. It might be the only way you can sleep tonight, and don’t worry—she likes the pain.”
A gorgeous woman stepped into the room.
She had a slinky black dress on and immediately fell to her knees, shoes off, hands open, waiting for me.