Bastard's Bride (Loftry University Playthings 4)

Exhausted,cranky, stiff, and enraged. All the sensations flood my body at once, putting me on overload. The several energy drinks I had didn’t help matters either. I’m twitchy, on edge. The need to kill runs through my veins just as hot as my blood.

Staring at the massive house in front of me, I watch as Gerald and Valerie Davis pull into their garage, their heads tilted back as if they just heard the funniest story ever. But they won’t be laughing soon. Pulling out my phone, I skim through the messages from both Cheyenne and Shelby, smirking at their pleas to keep safe.

I was born for this, bred for this. I was trained to kill them. My grandparents just didn’t know it. They will never understand the physical and mental toll my life had on me. And all of it was their fault. Their doing.

For all my life, I blamed Louis, but deep down, his insistence that he never knew I existed rang true. I couldn’t blame the man. Not really. All Louis was at that time was a scapegoat. He was the safe outlet for my rage. But now, I have another place to unleash it. The real culprits of my hellacious life.

If only they’d accepted my mother, accepted me. I would have never known the constant rape and torture that came along with life with Ryker. I wouldn’t be so broken, shattered, a monster that’s going to raise a baby while not imparting the damage onto her.

They’re the reason I still wake up at night with the desire to scream lodged in my throat and the feeling of phantom hands cupping my cock. Everything that’s gone wrong in my life is because of them.

Blind rage thrums in my veins, pounds at the back of my skull. Retribution is so close that I can almost taste it on my tongue. By killing these two, I’ll finally have the revenge I was so cruelly denied by Ryker’s death.

Turning off my lights, I go a little past the house and turn back onto the service road, easing the car to a stop a few houses down from theirs. I make my way through the brush and lush grasses, pausing anytime I hear a sound, then keep walking until I get to their backdoor. They both stand there, sipping wine and laughing as if they hadn’t plotted my murder. I wait there, breathing slow and deep to calm the anger that tinges my vision.

Once they walk away, I pull out my lockpicking kit and ease the metal into the lock. It takes time and patience, but finally, it gives, allowing me entrance. Right as I step inside, I pause, listening for any sort of alarm. But there’s nothing. These assholes think they’re untouchable, not even going as far as to have an alarm set for when they’re home.

My mind detaches from my body as I stand there, pulling on the skin of my old self. It takes a few moments to get back into that headspace. I’d been so happy with Shelaine that I almost forgot what it felt like to give in to this murderous rage. But it’s still there. All I have to do is picture my girls in danger, and the monster rises back up.

Creeping through the house, I slip into the most ostentatious room I come across - practically dripping with gold overlay and pearls - and huddle behind the door. Sooner or later, one of them is bound to come in. After what seems like an eternity, the door opens.

I don’t have to see who it is to know that it’s Valerie. The stench of her rich, old-woman perfume nearly chokes me, giving away my position. It’s like florals and musk, a heavy scent to hide the dank stench of decay that comes with getting old.

Once she sits at her small desk, I ease out from behind the door and make my way over. All it takes is a hit to the head with some gilded, ornate piece of crap to make her unconscious. Heaving her over to the bed, I roll her over to the middle and then search the drawers for some nylons. All old biddies have those. Right?

I find them and tie her down before crouching back behind the door. Soon enough, the heavy tread of Gerald vibrates through the floor as he gets closer. He opens the door hard, nearly making it slam into me as he walks in.

“Valerie, I -.”

His muffled squeak as he finds her on the bed, her hair matted with blood, sends a thrill of adrenaline through me. Standing, I shut the door behind me and lock it. With that click, Gerald finally looks over, his eyes growing large.

“Why Luke. I -. We weren’t expecting you. Why are you here?”

“Why? You want to know why? As if you don’t already know. Come on, someone as strapping as you can’t be senile yet. Or is it that you order so many hits that you can’t even remember them all?”

His look of shock morphs into that of pure evil, and for a moment, it’s as if Ryker is standing right in front of me once more. “Who told you? Was it that bitch, Cheyenne? What about that half-breed of hers, Shelby? Hmm? It had to be one of the two.”

“Who says I couldn't have figured it out on my own?”

Gerald tips his head back, letting out a chilling laugh. “Because you’d be in Florida killing Micha instead of here. So tell me, who tipped you off? It will be just one more to add to our ever-growing list.”

I reach into my pocket to palm my knife. It keeps me sane, stable. It’s the only thing grounding me at the moment. As much as I want to use Shelaine and little Lainey, I don’t dare. I don’t want them in this moment with me. They’re far too good, too pure to be what anchors me.

Gerald watches me, his eyes narrowed into slits like a feral cat set to devour me, but despite the anger swirling through him, I have far more rage to draw from than he does.

Prowling around, I watch him, studying him, looking for weaknesses. Despite his age, he’s still pretty agile. The only issue I’m detecting is that he’s favoring his right hip. The whole leg is stiff, not moving as easily as the other. Reaching behind me, I curl my fingers around a vase, ducking as he pulls a gun from his jacket.

It goes off with a loud bang, making my ears ring out, but before he can pull the trigger again, I toss the vase toward his left side, making him lean heavily on his right. He’s caught off guard enough for me to roll over and slide my knife across the back of his left calf, forcing a scream from his lips.

He’s unable to shoot at me since he’s dealing with the crippling cut to his leg. It’s all it takes to make him go down to his knees since his other hip can’t support the weight. The gun falls to the floor, and I kick it just out of reach, snarling as I circle around him.

“You know what I could do to you right now? I could let you suffer every unimaginable horror that was visited upon me both in foster care and at the hands of Ryker.”

Gerald tries to crawl forward, but I keep kicking the gun away. “Oh,” he jeers. “Boo-fucking-hoo. Your life was horrible. Well, so was ours. Our precious baby girl had a bright future ahead of her. But then she got pregnant with you. She was such a fucking disappointment. A cunt. She should have aborted you and saved us all the trouble.”

His voice is harsh, raspy, nearly wheezing as he talks through the pain; it does nothing but stirs up the impotent violence inside me. It swirls about, demanding an outlet, but I’m not ready to let it loose. Not yet.

“You will never speak about Cheyenne like that again.” Kicking up, I slam my foot into his mouth, grinning as blood spews out from his lips. “Please don’t interrupt me again, or I’ll pull out your teeth one at a fucking time.”

For the first time since seeing me, his eyes roll up in pure terror. Good. It’s about time he fears me. “Should I pull down your pants and fuck you? Show you the kind of love that was shown to me? Oh, I’m sure I could make you love it. That’s what happened to me, but not at first, though. Oh no. I think from years twelve to fourteen, I fought it. Hard. It was agonizing, feeling his cock stretch me open, defiling me. At twelve!” I scream. “Fucking twelve!”

“Or,” I continue, “I could put some cigarettes out on your arm. Give you matching scars. We can be twins. Wouldn't that be fun?”

“Luke,” he whispers out past the pain. “Luke, please -.”

Hunching down, I get my face close to his. “Or, what if I make you suck my cock. Hmm? Force my cum down your throat until you like it. Does that sound like fun?”

“W - we’re family,” he sputters as more blood trickles from his lips.

“You think I give a fuck? The only thing keeping me from defiling every inch of you is that little girl growing inside Shelaine’s body. I refuse to bring that dark stain home to her. So, in your last breaths, make sure you thank Lainey Grace Lannister. If it wasn’t for her, I’d rip your asshole apart, just so you can know what it’s like.”

The absolute horror etched into the old man’s face gives me just a hint of satisfaction, but not enough. It’s not nearly enough. Only once they’re both dead will I finally be at peace.

Unwilling to listen to any more of his bullshit, I take my knife and slit his throat. The bloody spray coats the bottom of my pants as it spills out onto the floor. It’s far more merciful than what he deserved, but at least he won’t be able to harm anyone else.

Unbridled rage flows through me, nearly stealing my breath. I long to scream out, to shout my victory to anyone who will hear it. But that’s what stupid people do. That’s what idiots that want to get caught do. Instead, I close my eyes and exhale, releasing the hum of adrenaline vibrating through my body.

I walk over to the bed and watch Valerie’s chest rise and fall for a moment. Her breathing is shallow, uneven. There’s a good chance she won’t pull through from the nasty hit to her head. Even so, I never like to leave loose ends. There will not be a revenge sequel happening from this. Taking the knife, I plunge it into her heart and twist, waiting until she stops gasping before yanking it out. More blood spurts from her chest, speckling my face and chest in the bright vermillion.

I long to slide my tongue out and taste the violence splattered on my lips but refrain. Who knows what her blood carries. Staring down, I watch in detached fascination as the crimson continues to ooze out of her, dripping down to pool at her sides. The pale pink blouse she was wearing is now a dark red, completely at odds with the pale shade of her lips.