But she had her entire loving family and all the Kings’ resources at her feet; if she’d just asked for fucking help, everyone would have been there for her.
Therefore…
The bitch who killed my wife and so many other people doesn’t deserve shit from me, especially not after she scared my woman again.
I glance around to check on Phoenix only to find she is nowhere in sight, and cursing, I run outside only to see a black car with her driving racing away before I can stand in front of it and stop it.
“Fucking hell!” I roar, pulling at my hair and hating myself for not seeing her decision in advance. Knowing how compassionate and loving she is, I should have expected she would choose to die herself rather than deliver me on a silver platter to the psycho.
I’ve already notified the authorities about it back in New York, and they issued a warrant to search her house, where they’ll probably find a lot of details on all the cases. I thought this way they would catch her in time, after my death, before she could do anything to my girls.
And then they could live happily ever after without Lydia’s shadow hanging over their heads.
“Think, Zach, think.”
All the files I’ve got on her life play in my head while I try to put them all together to make a clear picture of where she would have taken her “daddy,” so he could pay for all his sins.
“Yes!” I exclaim when it finally dawns on me.
This was the last place her father brought her before he died. One of the reasons she probably wants to dish out her revenge here.
I look around, darting back to the coffee shop, shouting, “I need a boat. I’ll pay any amount.” This is the fastest way for me to get where I need. Collective chuckles fill the air though.
“Good luck finding one, son,” one of the men says and shakes his head. “In this storm, no sane man will go with you.”
“Thankfully, I’m not sane” comes the reply from behind me, and I spin around to see a man leaning on the doorjamb, his blue eyes watching me curiously beneath his blond hair.
“Let’s go.” He seems oddly familiar, yet I can’t remember ever talking to him. “There’s no time to waste.”
Without thinking or dwelling much on the fact that this guy popped out of nowhere ready to sail with me, I go with him and pray to God I can make it in time to save my woman before anything happens to her.
Please, God.
Don’t take the woman I love from me twice.
We hop in his car, and as we hastily drive, he announces, “We’ll be at my boat in five minutes. Where do you need to go?” I tell him the location, and he whistles, albeit chuckling. “And they call us insane.”
I don’t even bother to think who the fuck “us” is and hope he won’t be too chatty on our way. “Why are you helping me then?” I ask. All things considered, there is a high chance of dying in the open ocean.
Those are risks I’m willing to take if it means saving Phoenix.
“Any man desperate enough to sail a boat in this storm must have one heck of a reason to do it,” he replies, and then without taking his eyes from the road, he extends his hand to me. “Micaden.”
Ah, I see.
Eudard might have left with my daughter to protect her, but he sends in one of his best friends and the owner of this town.
Funny thing about friendships?
If you are loyal enough, people are willing to risk their lives for you.
I just hope all this is worth it and we’ll save Phoenix.
As life has no meaning otherwise for me.
Lydia, be fucking damned, won’t win again.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Take me to the land where sinners atone…”
Phoenix
Phoenix
A sigh of relief slips past my lips as I navigate the car on the empty road, following the voice guidance, too afraid to slow down or go in a different direction for fear of Lydia planting something in this car.
What if she has a bomb set?
After all, she can’t be rational in her hate toward Zachary, and killing innocent people is not a big deal for her.
She hasn’t contacted me yet via phone or the car; who knows how technologically savvy she is, considering her father and Brady, which means she hasn’t caught on to my deceit.
The minute this thought flashes through my mind, a screeching voice comes from the speakers of the radio. “You chose him!” I hear a loud banging on the other end as if she hits herself hard before she whispers, “You betrayed me!”
“I didn’t,” I reply, willing myself to stay calm in this situation and imagine myself talking to one of my patients.
Anger and judgment won’t open her up to me. I have to come from the place of understanding and love while still acting as if I care about her above everyone else.
“You did! He was supposed to drive it! Him and not you.” I hear a loud honking from behind me and look in the side mirror, seeing a car chasing after me. I realize it must be Lydia. “I should have known not to trust you!” She must have just started following me; otherwise, she would’ve known about the change of her stupid so-called plan.
Did she really think I would sacrifice anyone if I had myself to offer? But then, Lydia doesn’t know what love is or entails. Even if people displayed it toward her, her spirit has been too damaged to see it.
“I never promised to follow your plan,” I reply and check the map on the GPS. Shortly, the road will separate at a crossroad; one of the destinations leads to some house, based on the location, while the other sort of ends on the edge.
My brows furrow at this while my mind races with this information. Does it mean it’s the edge of a cliff?
Usually, warnings are displayed all over such areas to stop people from venturing there at night especially, lest they die accidentally.
Only there will be nothing accidental about my plan.
With Lydia behind me, I could make her drive right after me, because the pull toward her most beloved prey will be too hard to resist, and we might go down together, just as she wanted all these years.
And with this, I would be one hundred percent sure she won’t bother the people I love anymore.
“How could you have chosen him after everything he has done? He is just like Daddy!”
Deciding to use this opportunity to get all my answers before I die, I ask, “How is he like your dad? Your father abused you for years, Lydia. None of the men whose lives you have affected did that.”
Her bitter laughter envelops the space, sending shivers down my spine, but I keep my gaze on the road, making sure not to miss the deadly crossroad. Rolling down the window at my side, I welcome the cold sinking into my bones and allowing me to stay grounded in the present and not let the panic hold me in its clutches.
Where there is panic and fear, rational thinking dies.
“They treated them the same when no one saw. I know it, because all of them said the same phrase Daddy did right before he hurt me.” My heart pangs painfully thinking about the scared and lost little girl who was kidnapped from her loving home and lived with an abuser, constantly scared for her next breath. Her father—although I prefer to call him a piece of shit—used her in his twisted game to hurt the wife and took all his anger out on his daughter.