My fist pumps around the knife and I struggle with what to do. I’ve dreamt of watching this knife sink into Lucien’s body, I’ve imagined the look on his face, and relished in the thought of watching him drown in his own blood. I’ve prepared for it and know that despite the darkness that will cloud my soul, I’ll be okay, but can I take someone else’s life?
Do I have what it takes to sink the blade through his chest? Do I have the strength to allow that kind of torture into my mind? What happens after? Do I have nightmares about what I’ve done or do I sleep peacefully knowing another monster is gone from this world?
Knowing how this is going to go if I don’t act now, I put the thoughts to the back of my mind. No matter what the consequences, nothing could be worse than having another man force himself on me. In fact, I think I’d even welcome the dreams and the heaviness on my soul because I know with Slade in my life, standing by my side, I’m going to be okay.
With that resolve, I suck it up.
I quickly begin to run out of oxygen and I know that if I don’t act now, I’m screwed…literally.
Marcus gets my leg up over his hip and as his hand reaches between my legs, my blade soars.
My knife is jammed up under his ribcage, so deep I feel his stomach against my skin.
I suck in a breath as his eyes go wide.
Holy fuck, I just stabbed a man. What have I done?
I stand like a statue as Marcus stumbles away from me, my father’s knife protruding from his stomach.
Blood instantly begins to soak his white dress shirt as we gape at each other. Him in shock and me absolutely terrified of the monster I’ve just become.
I stabbed a man.
I got my knife and I slammed it into his body.
He was right, I am just as bad as them.
Marcus stumbles a few more steps, his breath coming in jagged, rough gasps as I hear a gurgling in the back of his throat. He begins to choke on his own blood as tears stream down my face.
He’s going to die.
I just killed a man.
“Help,” he begs as he falls to his knees, reaching for me with weak, pathetic attempts but I don’t dare move. I can’t, no matter how hard I try. I need to save him. I need to know that I haven’t just sentenced a man to death. He might have been a monster who was only second away from raping me, but I’m not God. I’m not a judge standing before a full courthouse. Who am I to decide if Marcus Mahony should live or die?
What have I done?
The tears continue streaming down my face, soaking into the silk robe and probably destroying it.
My hands shake at my sides.
I’m a murderer.
Marcus begins to give up as his body collapses to the floor, the knife pointing right at me like a sign to the rest of the world pointing me out as his murderer.
I have to do something. I go to make my way to him when a loud booming laugh echoes down the hallway, making my head snap up as Marcus groans and gurgles on his own blood. “My, oh my,” Lucien bellows. “How the tables have turned.”
He steps up beside me and looks down at the struggling man before crouching down with a sick smirk. His eyes roam up and down Marcus’ body, taking in the blood staining the polished, hardwood floors which Maria had redone two years ago. “Well, shit, Marcus,” Lucien laughs. “You’re destroying my wife’s prized floors.”
He reaches over and curls his hand around the knife. “Here, let me give you a hand with that.” Marcus’ eyes go wide as Lucien savagely twists the blade before yanking it out and wiping the blood on his pant leg.
Lucien shakes his head as Marcus’ eyes grow heavy, quickly losing his battle. I don’t doubt that Lucien understands why I did it, after all, the guy’s lifeless dick is staring up at us. He straightens up and turns to look at me as Marcus takes his final breath, completely bleeding out before me.
“I didn’t think you had it in you, princess,” Lucien beams as though this is some kind of proud father moment. He takes my hand and presses the knife into it as I stare at him in horror, absolutely disgusted with myself for my actions. “You know, I’m even going to let you keep this. You deserve it.”
I look down at the knife that used to remind me of my father’s protectiveness but now all I see is the blood on my hands. “What did I do?” I whisper.
Lucien squeezes my shoulder, not fazed at all by the dead man in the hallway. “Oh, don’t worry about him,” Lucien tells me. “You just handled a very big problem for me, and for that, I won’t even tell the police how he died.”
“What? I…”
“Do you understand what this means?” he questions, his eyes shimmering with a wicked excitement.
I shake my head, not understanding a damn thing.
“You’re still his wife and with the ‘legalities’ of your nuptials, no prenup was put in place. It’s all yours, Skylah, every last cent is yours and because of that… You’re. Mine.”
Chapter 15
My old bedroom door is slammed behind me as the panic begins to rise. How is it possible that in the space of 24 hours, I leave a rapist to be married to another one, only to kill him and be returned to the OG rapist with millions of dollars and a promise to never see the light of day?
This is so fucked up.
I killed a man and have millions of dollars which Lucien is going to take from me. Hell, if he doesn’t kill me, hoping that what’s mine will go to him, he’ll either tell the cops what I did and have me sent to prison or keep me locked up as his sex slave and steal it all to build an even bigger empire.
Though, what’s even more fucked up is that he gave me my knife back as some kind of reward. What kind of maniac does that? He must have been too overwhelmed with joy to realize what the hell he was doing.
Lucien said he was going to bed and come morning, we’re going to discuss how this is going to work, but whatever his sick plans are, I know I’m not going to like it.
I bet this was part of his plan all along. Kill off the millionaire and take all of his assets, businesses, and pride. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if he wrote this shit into the fine print of their ‘marry off Skylah’ contract.
It’s after five in the morning and I’m fucking exhausted. All I want to do is climb into bed and pretend this night never happened. Hell, I want to pretend this whole lifetime never happened, but without that, I wouldn’t remember the good, and fuck, over the last six months there has been so much good.
Knowing sleep is never going to come, I start rifling through my closet and pull on some decent clothes, not once letting the knife slip from my hand. Who knows when I’m going to need this thing? It’s been my lifesaver so many times before but right now, it feels so heavy in my hand.
It’s stained with Marcus’ blood and I fear it’s something I’ll never be able to put behind me. I’m not glad that I did it, but I’m relieved that he’s dead. I’m sure that makes me a bad person.
I find some comfortable clothes which are rare in this hell hole and drop down against the wall, refusing to sleep in that bed. Back in Aston Creek, my closet was filled with nothing but comfortable clothing, but here, it’s a different story.
I stare at the door, unable to clear my mind.