Fractured (Kings of Chaos #10)

Chapter One

RO

White knuckling the wheel, I lean forward to see through the sheets of water beating the four-door sedan like it owes it money.

Each drop feels like a gunshot. I know the damage rain can do here in the Bayou.

Flooding erases history, destroys lives, and kills.

It’s a metal trap waiting to be sprung. Every year, we watch the hurricane warnings religiously and plan accordingly.

The go-box in the back of my trunk speaks volumes.

To add insult to injury, the worst night of my life occurred on an evening just like this one.

I inch forward in traffic.

“Come on, Betti,” I mumble as the phone continues to ring.

“You have reached Betti. I’m not here right now but leave a message and I’ll call you right back.”

“Damnit.” I exhale through my nose, shifting in the seat.

All I wanted to do was go home, take off the soiled scrubs, and hunker down to ride this hurricane out.

I can’t do any of that until I know my little sister is safe.

If Pa is sauced up, I can’t trust him to play the role he occasionally moonlights in as a responsible adult.

I curse the small-town politics that prevent me from gaining custody and bringing her to live with me when we have a living parent who operates as a functioning alcoholic.

There’s more to caring for a child than putting food in their bellies, clothes on their back, and making sure they attend school.

Everyone knows what goes on at our house, but they turn a blind eye.

Cowards. I sneer, remembering the hellish childhood I managed to escape at eighteen. I adhere to the blood of the covenant being thicker than the water of the womb. The blind loyalty to family had led to many tombstones down here in the south, where family secrets were to be kept at all costs.

Re-dialing, I turn on my blinker and ease into the left lane.

Driving a square block, I realign myself to go in the opposite direction of all the traffic fleeing the category three hurricane.

The wind rocks the metal vehicle like a cradle.

The muscles in my arms tense as I struggle to keep the wheels straight on the wet road.

Flirting with the gas pedal, I go faster than I should. I’m running out of time to get us both to safety, and if Pa is in a black mood, there will be nothing easy about extracting her from the home. All this time later, and he’s still a thorn in my side.

Hanting me like the living nightmare he is, I never knew I could hate someone as much as I do him.

I wish him ill, death, and suffering. I want every bad vibe he’s ever sent out into the world to rebound and strike him at once.

My breathing ratchets up a notch, and my chest grows tight.

Seeing such an evil blight on humanity continuing to thrive sickens me.

Bile teases the back of my throat. I swallow it down.

I don’t pretend to understand the way the universe works, but it ruined my faith.

I hydroplane as the tires take a turn. Steering into it.

I regain control. With my heart knocking on my ribs and a lump in my throat, I return my full attention to the road.

I can’t help anyone if I’m in a ditch with a busted car.

Licking my lips, I stare ahead. The dichotomy between the bumper-to-bumper traffic to the left and the empty road on the right is a silent warning. I silence the voice of self-preservation, insisting I join those moving away from danger. I’m all Betti has. I won’t let her down.

My headlights struggle to cut through the intense darkness that comes along with remote rural living.

Without the light pollution of a city, the land feels like it swallows you whole.

Fog rises off the water, drifting past the beams like spectral come out to play.

Spanish moss hangs low, dancing in the high winds like living creatures.

My stomach tightens, souring, as chill bumps break out over my skin.

I may not be Han Solo, but I have a bad feeling about this.

Something’s wrong. Gammie, if you’re out there, I need your help.

I say a silent prayer as I near the roadblock.

I believe in ancestors; the rest is up for debate.

Two officers stand in their all-weather gear, ready to wave others away from the danger zone.

Wide-brimmed hats shade their faces and deflect the rain. I blink against the blinding rays of their mag lights as a short, stocky officer approaches my window. I roll it down.

“Yes, Officer.”

“Ma’am. You can’t go beyond this point. It’s in the flood zone. It’s not safe.”

Narrowing my eyes, I try to place the name dancing in the back of my head. “Jeb?”

His brown eyes widen. “Rowan?”

“Yeah.” I smile. “Looks like you’ve done well for yourself.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “You two. Nurse?”

“That’s right, over in the city. I’m going to get Betti. I can’t get ahold of her, and you know how Pa is. I’m worried.”

“Shit.” He glances away.

“I know you’re doing your job, but this is my kin, Jeb. I can’t let her be out there unprepared.”

He grunts. “And you’ll come right back?”

I nod. “Of course. I plan to grab her and leave. I have my supplies in the trunk if you want to check.” I gesture toward the back with my thumb.

“You know it’s past evacuation time. If you get into trouble, no one's coming to help. We’re leaving here ourselves in a few minutes.”

Holding his gaze, I nod. “I know. Whatever happens, this is on me.”

“Alright. Go on through. But don’t dally, you hear?”

I salute him. “Understood, officer. Thank you.”

Returning to his partner, they move the barricade.

I wave and drive through, aware of the water already gathered on the dirt roads.

The dips are half full. We’re down to less than an hour to get out, or we’ll be trapped.

My headlights skim something pale, bobbing in the water.

I jerk to the left and recognize the handles and navy-blue combo as a cooler.

Images of another white thing floating in the water turn my stomach.

Pushing the memory away, I take the next turn slower.

Plywood covers windows, and yards are empty.

I travel the deserted road. The house I grew up in is lit like a beacon.

I can see directly inside the house through the uncovered windows.

The lawn furniture is still on the porch, along with other random items. He hasn’t done a damn thing to prepare for the storm about to hit.

“Son of a bitch.” Gunning my engine, I pull into the drive behind the hulking white truck. Throwing the car into park. I cut the engine and step outside. The roaring wind yanks my hair free from its ponytail as I fight my way through the gusts to the front door.

The metal screen door bangs open and shut, slamming against the side of the house. Can’t they hear that? Why didn’t they at least secure the entrance? Something’s wrong. I twist the doorknob, and it yields. My stomach drops into my feet.

Betti is being choked. Feet swinging, she claws at my father’s massive hands around her neck.

“Stupid bitch. Just like your mother. You thought you were going to leave me here to rot? So did she.” Words slurred, he vomits the abuse onto her. “I made sure she learned her place, and now I’ll do the same to you.”

“Stop,” Betti croaks.

“Been waiting for the perfect time to put your miserable carcass beside hers.”

Rushing forward, I use an elbow to his side to incapacitate him.

Yelling like a hit dog, he drops Betti to the floor.

Sticking out my foot, I shove him with all the force I can muster.

Wobbling, he loses his balance and goes down like a giant with his legs tied together like in a cartoon.

His head slams against the wooden floor.

The floorboards vibrate with the impact. He twitches. I run to Betti, kneeling beside her while he’s stunned.

“Are you okay?” I examine her throat. Discolored and swollen, the bruises on her peaches-and-cream skin tell an entire story at a glance.

Coughing, she bends over, arms on her knees. I rub her back, listening to her breathing. Her airway is clear enough.

“I don’t know what happened?” Her raspy voice cuts my heart like a jagged knife. “He just snapped.” Tear-filled brown eyes ask me questions I can never answer. “He killed Mama and stole the money.” Voice cracking, she bursts into broken sobs.

“What?” I whisper. I’d spent the past ten years hating my mom for ruining my chance at happiness. I blamed her for stealing the money I’d saved up and bailing. “How? He couldn’t have?” Rising, I walk over to the man, slowly blinking up at me.

“What the hell did you do, old man?” I growl, sinking onto my haunches beside him.

He barks a laugh. His left eye is dilated, while the other remains the same. The fall harmed him more than I thought—clear fluid trails from his nose. I curl my lip up.

“Speak.”

“Kept you all here. Belong to me. Made you start over, didn’t I?” His words mix like a trough full of slop—a stinking mess of scraps and rotten words.

“Where’s the money?” I bite the words out. His lip twitches up at the corner.

“Never find.” His voice trails off. His eyes become unfocused. Tremors shake his large frame. His feet hit the ground in a chaotic rhythm as he seizes. When his breathing grows shallow and his lips begin to turn blue, I know we’re losing him. Throwing my head back, I scream.

After all he’s done, he’ll leave this world without facing charges or telling me where the hell my money is. Charges. Fuck, technically, I killed him. And worse, I didn’t even try to administer care.

“We have to go, Betti.” I wipe my hands over my mouth as my brain whirls into action.

“What? We can’t leave him here like this.” She gestures to the man gasping on the floor for air like a fish out of water.

“No choice. Go get some things. Enough for a while without looking like you moved out.”

She stares at me, dumbly. I stamp my foot. “Now. If we get caught here like this, it’s going to be very bad for me.”

Her mouth forms an O. She rises on shaky limbs, and I study the house critically.

I touched the door coming in. Was there anything else?

I shove a hand into my pockets and pull out an extra pair of gloves I tote around during my shifts, just in case.

Pulling them on with a snap, I hurry to his room, ransacking it.

The mental countdown in my head continues.

We have to leave here soon. But the money.

I can’t leave it. Not after all the sacrifices made to acquire it.

I lost everything. Let me have this one thing.

Opening drawers, I pull boxes down from the closet, shaking them out.

My vision blurs. I swipe at my stinging eyes.

Sniffing, I dig through piles of clothes at the bottom of the closet. “Come on.” I plead to the empty room. I slam my fist into the wall.

“Ro?” Betti’s oval-shaped face appears in the doorway. “I’m ready.”

“Yeah.” I nod. He’s going to win. Heartbroken, I stand. I dance my way around the random items littering the wooden floor. Something catches the heel of my Hookas. Tripping, I slam down onto my knees.

“Son of a bitch.” Pain travels up my body.

“Ro.” Betti rushes to me. I wave her away.

“I’m okay.” I glance over my shoulder. “Just tripped on—” Trailing off, I notice the raised floorboard. Spinning around, I crawl over and grab at the wood. “Go get me a butter knife.”

“What? We need to go?”

“Now.”

Eyes wide, she jerks. “Okay. Jesus.”

She returns seconds later, and I wedge the edge of the metal into the opening, wiggling it up and down.

The board gives with a groan. Holding my breath, I peel it back.

Tears run down my face and drop onto the sack I never thought I’d lay eyes on again.

The faded green army-issued duffle has Le Blanche stamped in black fading ink.

Growling, I haul it up, marveling at how deep he’d managed to dig to keep it safe and secure.

“What is that?”

“Our future.” I heft the weight over my shoulder and stomp down the board. Hastily kicking clothing over it. I usher her out of the room.

“Leave everything exactly how it is.”

“Ro. He’s dead.” She squeaks as we pass his prone body.

I recognize the pallor, empty gaze, and onset of rigor mortis.

“I know.” I hold back the urge to spit on him. The last thing we need is more DNA on the scene. “I hope you’re burning in hell for everything you did to us.”

Turning on my heel, I walk out of the home, wiping the handle off with my scrubs.

We needed a place to lay low and see how this plays out.

I can only think of one secluded spot close enough for us to make before the storm breaks.

Praying it’s still storm worthy and the road holds to let us get there, I toss the bag in the backseat and get behind the wheel.

“Buckle up, little sister. This is going to be a scary ride.”