Call police. I fucked up.
I could barely see to send it, falling to my knees as another lick of agony lashed down my back.
With a groan, I climbed to my feet.
And kept going.
* * * * *
I was too late.
O would never forgive me.
Not for any of my sins.
Especially this one.
I couldn’t see my daughter, but I knew she was here.
The camouflaged painted caravan and its long-stay awning was where that bastard had kept her from me.
I would’ve killed him for that alone.
But watching him tear off his shirt and unbuckle his jeans added a whole new homicidal rage to my already flaming hate.
O lay trapped on her back on the couch, glowering at him, her lips pulled back in a snarl. She didn’t beg or reason; she just waited for his attack as if ready to fight until death rather than let him touch her.
My vision flickered again as my hand slipped into my jeans pocket where my weapon of choice still waited. The violence that I’d always pushed aside roared through me. It heated my blood and deleted my agony.
I stepped silently into the awning.
The darkness kept me hidden. The lantern too weak to throw illumination my way. O fought my uncle as he grabbed her thighs and tried to spread them.
Both of them preoccupied.
Both of them unaware as I sneaked on shaky legs.
My fingers ached to steal his gun, discarded and lonely on the coffee table. To point it at his head and pull the trigger like he’d done to me. He deserved to feel the fire it left behind. The punch. The shove. The heat.
But he also deserved to feel how his victims had felt.
The helplessness.
The awful, terrible sensation of dying from passing time.
Pulling the syringe from my pocket, I carefully uncapped the needle while O screamed a curse and Jeffrey threw himself on top of her.
The deadly sharpness of the needle made my heart pound.
I couldn’t fuck this up.
If I did...
O’s gaze wrenched to mine as I took the final step toward my uncle.
Her mouth fell open, her fight vanished, disbelief pinning her to the couch.
Jeffrey froze, twisting on top of her to look behind him.
I couldn’t let him grab his gun.
I couldn’t second-guess.
Without a word, I lunged forward and jabbed the needle into his naked ass.
The entire length vanished into him, earning a howl and violent fist swinging in my direction.
But it was too late.
My thumb pressed on the plunger, and I shot the entire contents into him. I didn’t know if it would work, not going directly into a vein, but I had to hope.
He roared upright just as I stumbled backward and snatched his gun from the coffee table. My back roared from his previous bullet. My vision grey and black. I levelled the muzzle at his chest. “Don’t move.”
His boxer-briefs clung to the top of his thighs. His disgusting erection made me want to vomit.
If I’d been any longer...
O squirmed and kicked on the couch, doing her best to remove her binds. I would’ve given anything to free her, but it wasn’t over yet.
Soon.
Soon it would be and I could rest.
Wedging one arm against my bleeding side, I struggled to keep the gun raised and ready. “Pull your pants up, you fucking bastard. Don’t want to die with them around your ankles, do you?”
His lips pulled into a snarl as he hoisted the material up. “Die? The only person dying here is you, my boy.”
I shook my head. “Not tonight.”
That might be a lie or the truth. I couldn’t tell anymore.
I was mentally and physically exhausted.
The trek through the forest. The worry over what I’d done. The warm blood cascading down my legs.
My body didn’t feel right anymore.
Pieces of it shutting down.
I didn’t have much time.
Jeffrey lunged toward me. I feathered my finger on the trigger. I’d put a bullet in his face if need be. I wouldn’t hesitate. But he was already dead. He just didn’t know it yet.
“Daddy?” Olive appeared at the door of the caravan. She had a blanket around her shoulders and her long hair static from a pillow.
“Hey, little spinach.” I grimaced, doing my best to smile. “Stay in the caravan, okay?”
“You’re alive!” She leaped down the three steps and launched toward me. “I knew you were okay. I knew—”
Jeffrey grabbed her, yanking her by the hair and jerking her into his side. “He’s a ghost, sweetheart. A dead man walking.”
“No!” She struggled, her cheeks wet with tears.
“Let her go!” O kicked the air and cursed.
And I just smiled at my daughter, relief slowly overtaking my panic. I’d kept my promise. I’d found her. “It’s okay. Don’t struggle.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks. “You’re here to take me home, right?”
“Right.” I nodded, the gun growing heavy in my hand. My arm shuddered with the weight as another wash of lacerating agony slashed at my back.
Jeffrey’s hand curled around Olive’s throat. She went deathly still. “Give me the gun and I won’t kill your daughter.”
Just like I’d been over the dramatics and threats with Tallup, I was over this too.
I let my arm fall. The gun clattered to the leaf-strewn carpet.
Olive whimpered, thinking I’d given up.
I hadn’t.
I’d won.
Jeffrey coughed and stumbled.
Olive squeaked as he pulled her with him. I shadowed them, ready to grab Olive the moment he dropped.
It wouldn’t take long.
His eyes widened as things started dying in his body.
“Wha-What did you give me?”
My voice was cold as stone. “Succinylcholine.”
He swallowed hard, his throat blocking breath. “What the fuck is that?”
“It’s as close as I could get to showing you how your victims felt.”
His knees gave out, plummeting him to the floor. Olive cried as he clutched her for support. But I was done letting that monster control my daughter.
My side snarled as I leaped forward and scooped Olive out of his grip. He didn’t fight me. He couldn’t. His muscles and bones no longer obeyed him.
Already his eyes struggled to stay open. His mouth hung lax. He tumbled onto his side, bound in a prison of his own making.
Olive clung to me as Jeffrey drooled. I kissed the top of her head and let her stay plastered to me while I skirted Jeffrey and unhooked O’s rope.
She glared unforgivingly as I grabbed a knife from my back pocket and sliced through the final restraint.
She rubbed the rawness on her skin, embracing freedom. She looked me up and down, no sign of trust or affection, just relief that I wasn’t dead. “You’re alive.”
“I’m alive.” I bowed my head, unable to stomach the blood ringing her wrists from where she’d struggled against the rope.
Fuck, I’d let her down so much.
Backing away, understanding she wouldn’t want me close to her, I twisted Olive around so her face pressed into my stomach. I didn’t worry that her arms would get sticky with my blood. I didn’t have any idea how much this would traumatise her or how I could ever make it up to her.
Olive moved with me as I crouched beside him. His eyes stayed half-hooded and crazed with confusion.