Chapter 31 #2
Calvin snorts in irritation, and I gesture for him to stay behind the couch while I move.
He nods, cupping the gun in his hand like he’s ready to take a shot at any second as I roll from behind the couch.
When Keegan stands to take another shot at me, I hear Calvin again—his gun going off, forcing Keegan to back down before he has a chance to aim with a bullet that grazes his cheek.
“Maybe I’m old, but that just means I’ve had plenty of time to think about all the ways I want to take you apart. All the ways I want to make you suffer for what you did.”
I don’t think I imagine the low, catching sound of Keegan’s breath at my words.
I know I don’t miss it when he levels his gun at me and takes a shot as I come around the desk where he’s hiding.
It catches me in the arm, and the burning pain of a bullet tearing through skin is enough to make me let out a little grunt… but it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t matter because I’m less than a few feet away from him, and when I throw myself forward and tackle him to the ground, the solid impact of him landing and the feel of my fist crashing into his jaw sends enough adrenaline surging through my body that the wound doesn’t matter.
I hit him once, and his icy blue eyes go wide.
He starts to struggle when I hit him again, but my knee is pinning down the hand that’s holding his gun, so all he can do is scramble with his free arm.
Well, that and pull a knife from his side to jam into my thigh.
I let out a roar and rip it out, flipping my gun over in my hand and raising it up.
“Fuck you, Atlas. You and your stupid fucking cunt of a wife—you and your new little boyfriend. He knows what a monster you are, you realize that, right? People like us can’t find love, we can’t—”
Before I can bring my gun down, there’s a loud crack as Calvin’s foot connects with the side of Keegan’s head.
His eyes roll back and he falls silent.
“Fuck you, you fucking dick.” He snaps it out, and I glance up at Calvin, my breath coming in thick, shallow pants, my heart thundering in my chest.
“I think you’re supposed to say that before you knock him out, sweetheart.” The tease comes out easy enough, and then I sway slightly. Calvin comes to his knees beside me, dragging me off Keegan’s prone body.
I keep my gun pointed at him as Calvin quickly and efficiently tears a strip from my shirt and ties it around the wound on my leg.
“Not sure if you’re aware…” He shoots me a stern but patient look. “But taking a foreign object out of a wound causes more harm than good.” His scolding is only half-hearted, and I can tell from how sluggish the bleeding is that it wasn’t that serious to begin with.
Just one more scar—one final scar to end all of this.
By the time Keegan starts to move, Calvin has my leg wrapped.
North and Wylder come through the door, though I notice that Wylder is the only one with blood on his hands.
It’s strange, seeing their different reactions.
North is looking at me—at the blood on my arm and the wound on my leg with a concerned expression.
Wylder’s eyes are all for the man on the ground, and I can see the haze of anger and pain and confusion there. When he finally glances up at me, he shrugs one shoulder like he wasn’t just caught feeling.
“He looks older than I remember… smaller.”
There’s so much pain in those words, so much meaning. How long has the idea of Keegan been some big boogeyman in Wylder’s mind? How long did he imagine him as some enormous monster, when the man on the ground who is opening bleary eyes is probably a foot shorter than him?
“Wylder…” I start, but he shakes his head and steps forward, grabbing Keegan by one arm. North follows suit, grabbing him by the other. They both jerk up, forcing Keegan to his knees as he finally wakes up.
“Atlas…” Keegan’s eyes are wide now, like he’s only just realizing that this isn’t something he can get out of—like he’s only just realizing that he’s been breathing borrowed air for so long, and I’m finally here to collect.
“Wait. Wait… I can pay… I can—” He cuts off with a scream when Wylder jerks his arm until there’s a sickening crack, and then gags when a booted foot connects with his side.
“There isn’t enough money in the world to pay for what you did.” Wylder’s voice comes out in a near feral snarl, and Keegan twists his head to look at my son for the first time. It takes a second, but I see the moment he realizes who he is.
“I should have killed you in that car.”
Wylder jerks his arm again. “Your mistake, fucker.”
Movement beside me pulls my attention from the pain pooling to the surface on Wylder’s face, aching out in his voice—it’s poison that’s lived deep in his chest since he was a child…
and it’s like he’s finally getting to purge it.
When I glance away, Calvin is there with the knife I pulled from my thigh.
Keegan’s knife.
It’s kind of fitting.
“Don’t.” Keegan’s voice is trembling now.
I’ve spent so much of my life building him up as someone to hunt, someone to torture…
as the one thing that ruined my life. But he’s kneeling on the ground now and bleeding…
and I realize that he never stood a chance—not with my family here, not with Calvin at my side and my sons ready to go to hell with me to fight the devil.
“It’s too late, Keegan. It was too late the day you killed Julia.”
“You’re a fucking monster, Atlas. You can’t be happy—you can’t stay happy. Whatever this is, it won’t last, it—”
His words cut off in a gurgle and his expression goes wide as I swing the knife in an arc.
It catches on the edge of his throat and slices right through, opening up a second mouth beneath the one that falls open in shock.
The hot wash of blood spilling across my legs and feet isn’t as satisfying as I’d imagined it would be.
The life leaving his eyes as he stares up at me in agony… it isn’t… it doesn’t…
I drop the knife and feel Calvin’s arm slide around my waist. It stops me from falling as the rush of emotions tearing through me threatens to take me down.
He hugs me to him like he wants to hold me together.
A few seconds pass before I hear the sound of Keegan’s body hitting the ground, and another pair of arms envelopes me.
Wylder, who is shaking just as hard as I am…
And finally, there’s North. His fingers are warm as he squeezes my shoulder, and his voice is calm and steady when he speaks.
“We’re done here, Dad. He’s dead. You did it.”
I did it. We did it.
I feel Calvin slip his fingers through mine, giving a soft squeeze as he presses a kiss to my temple.
“Yeah, we did. You’re right… it’s over.” I speak softly, but I don’t move out of the circle of arms—out of the warmth of my family enveloping me and finally sealing the wound that has been chasing me since the day Julia died.