Chapter 16 Kip
KIP
The moment I slammed the car door shut and locked myself inside, I jammed the key into the ignition and revved the engine to life.
Tires screeched as I tore out of Mother's driveway, leaving a haze of burning rubber in my wake.
Within seconds, my fingers flew over the phone, urgently dialing Dope, who seamlessly connected me with Death.
“What’s happening?” he growled.
“Yeah, dude, you never ask for a three-way convo.” The sound of Dope sucking on a joint filled the car speakers.
“I can’t even talk about this over the phone. We need to meet.”
“Must be some serious shit, then.” Death released a heavy sigh. “How about the house in the Ozarks?”
Death had secretly purchased properties nationwide under a shell corporation, and one of them was nestled deep in the heart of hillbilly country.
The Ozarks had a notorious reputation for shady characters, which meant it offered a perfect refuge—isolated, rugged, and desolate.
Its remoteness was a prime location for concealing illegal activities that demanded absolute secrecy.
“I’ll swing by and get Dope. It’s almost six here,” I said.
“The plane is in Portland and ready to use. I chose to drive this trip, and I’m close enough to be there in a few hours.”
My brow rose. “Hunting for deer?” The corner of my mouth curved in a smile.
“A man gets hungry.” Death’s chuckle filled the line.
“Dope, I’m on my way. I’ll be there in thirty. Be ready.” I didn’t wait for them to say goodbye; I just disconnected the call. I wanted to swing by Holland’s place before I grabbed Dope and headed to the airport.
For some reason, I didn’t want to tip her off that I was stopping by. Since I’d canceled on her and was now headed out of town, I wanted to make sure Cooper or Draco hadn’t paid her an unexpected visit before I left.
Mother’s words whispered in the darkest corners of my mind, and my pulse jumped. Mother always had a way of twisting the truth. She’d give me enough to bait me, then turn the knife she’d plunged into my chest. What if it was true about Holland? What if she was lying?
I kneaded the back of my neck, feeling the tension coil and constrict my muscles like a tightening noose.
My nostrils flared wide as flashbacks of Samantha assaulted me, flickering relentlessly like an old, grainy, black-and-white film reel.
Mother was right—I was consumed, possessed.
Samantha had been oblivious to my covert surveillance at school, unaware of the countless times I’d shadowed her every step, trailing her at a distance.
Yet, that evening when she and her parents had arrived at our place …
We were young. Teens. The thoughts slammed into my chest like a freight train, leaving me gasping for air as I relived the scene.
I gripped the steering wheel with a vise-like hold as blood seemed to explode across my hands and knuckles, painting them crimson.
“Fuck. No.” My nostrils flared as I attempted to dismiss the sensation.
It couldn't be real. Anger started to simmer deep within me.
If my mother wasn't lying, and the nightmares and hallucinations were true, then how was it possible Holland didn't remember me?
She had touched and kissed me, and then …
Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as her ghostly image swirled in my mind.
As I drove down her street, I vowed that I would get the answers I needed from her. I was fed up with being manipulated. If she thought I was messed up, I was ready to reveal exactly how fucked up I really was. I’d give her tons to unravel in her counseling sessions.
I parked in her driveway and noticed her car wasn't in the garage, which was unusual since she always parked there.
Hurrying up the walkway, I rang the doorbell.
A few seconds later, the door cracked open, the chain stretching tight against the frame. The light glinted off the handgun she pressed to her side, her eyes wide.
“Kip, I wasn’t expecting you.” She disappeared for a minute, then the sound of the chain sliding against the door caught my attention. Seconds later she stood in front of me.
My pulse faltered and I found myself tongue-tied like a nervous teenager at a loss for words.
Her red hair cascaded down her shoulders, and she wore a loose-fitting white Whitmore College sweatshirt paired with matching shorts.
Just one glance at her made me question everything I’d been mulling over during the drive.
Extracting secrets, confronting her betrayal and lies, seeking vengeance—it all seemed to dissolve as soon as I saw her.
Get it together—she's playing you, manipulating you like your mother did.
With that thought, a fire burned inside me to make her pay.
She gave me a tired smile. “Hey.” Holland opened the door and motioned for me to come in.
Her red swollen eyes told me she’d been crying.
“What’s wrong? Did Cooper come after you again?” The hair on the back of my neck bristled as the thought of him laying a hand on her a second time pissed me the fuck off. Get a grip, man.
I was a man possessed. One minute, I wanted to bury myself in Holland and fuck her until the sun came up, the next, I wanted to kill anyone who touched her. Mine.
“I wasn’t expecting you after the text.” She folded her arms across her chest, pushing her gorgeous tits up.
My cock sprang to life as I recalled seeing her naked and on display for me the other night as I fucked her with my cross.
I stopped myself from reaching for the necklace.
If she had any recollection of what I’d done to her with it, she would know it had been me the moment she saw it.
Eventually, Holland would come to understand that her monster was her savior, but she could never run from me.
“Answer me.” I stepped closer to her, backing her against the wall. Instead of seeing fear in her expression, I saw hunger, pain, and desperation. I reached up and dragged my knuckles down her cheek.
My fingers wrapped around her throat.
Not hard. Just enough for her to feel it. To know she was mine.
Her brow quirked but not in alarm. There was something else behind that look. Trust?
Suddenly, the room blurred, air thinned, and my ears buzzed like a hive of bees. The memory slammed into me before I could stop it.
Blood on the carpet. Her father screaming.
She was crying. A girl. Red hair soaked in redder blood.
“Why don’t you remember?” I whispered.
She blinked. “What?”
She kissed me in the dark once. Or did I imagine it? I tasted copper. Her lips. A sob that wasn’t mine.
I pressed closer, my body shaking. “You know who I am.”
“Kip, I—”
She begged me not to let go. She screamed. I screamed louder.
“You said you’d never forget,” I gritted out.
I was on my knees, my hands covered in blood, shaking—
Holland’s lips parted. Her breath hitched, but she didn’t pull away.
“You were there that night.” I blinked hard, lost in the fog. “You saw what they did to me. To you.”
Gunshots. Fire. Her mother slumped over the table. My uncle saying something I couldn’t hear.
“Kip,” she whispered, her voice soft, strained. “You’re scaring me.”
Her words snapped me out of the flashback. My hand recoiled like I’d touched fire, and I stepped away, putting distance between us.
“Fuck—Holland—”
She didn’t move. Just stared at me like she finally saw the ghost inside of me.
“I can’t stay. I’ll have to touch base with you tomorrow. I wanted to check on you.”
“Oh. Okay.” She rubbed her arms as if warding off a chill. “Well, I’m fine. I haven’t seen Cooper or Draco.”
Her nose sounded stuffy as she talked.
“Keep your door locked,” I ordered.
She didn’t know it, but I would check on her through the cameras in her house while Dope and I were flying to Arkansas.
If I saw anything go down, I would reach out to Riley.
She’d done me a solid before when I was out of town.
That was one thing about her: she’d proved herself over and over again while working at Velvet Vortex and the society.
When we were risking lives and breaking laws, we had to be able to trust the other person working with us. Riley definitely had our backs.
“I will. Thanks for checking on me.” Her words were full of gratitude, and I pushed down the overwhelming urge to hold her, but then Mother’s words whispered at me again.
“When we have time, we need to talk.”
Curiosity flickered across her pretty features. “It sounds serious.”
Her soft tone went straight to my cock. “Yeah.” I took a step back before I did something stupid like pin her to the wall and kiss her.
I was losing my goddamn mind riding the roller coaster.
I needed to jump off before I completely lost my shit.
Just because she was beautiful didn’t mean she wasn’t dangerous.
Before I made a reckless move, I spun on my heel and stormed out the door. Dope was waiting for me at his place, and the chaos waiting for me loomed like a storm on the horizon. I had to stay laser-focused on the impending shitshow that threatened to consume everything in its path.
I paced the creaking floorboards, my boots thudding like war drums in the cabin’s silence. The place was remote—meant to keep secrets buried.
But mine were rotting through the floor.
Dope settled into the old navy recliner, its fabric faded and frayed with time. The cabin was modest, a compact sanctuary. Despite its size, it was everything we needed—hidden away from prying eyes, a safe haven that provided shelter from the world’s chaos.
Death, a silent presence, leaned against the dark-paneled wall, his silhouette blending into the shadows. His arms were folded over his chest, and he watched me intently, as I wrestled with the words that hovered beyond my grasp.
Finally, I said, “Mother.”
“You want us to take care of her finally?” Death asked, a hint of excitement in his tone. As far as I knew, Death had never killed a woman, but my mother wasn’t human, so there was that.
I cracked a grin. “As much as I would love to be rid of her …” I coughed into my hand as I said, “I need her alive.”
Death tilted his head, eyeing me. “Do you want to fill us in? I have another bastard to fillet, so let’s get on with it.”
Dope snickered at Death’s comment.
“I visited Mother,” I said, wiping my sweat-slickened palms on my dark wash jeans.
I hesitated.
“She gave me a number. Said an old friend wanted to meet me. She didn’t say who until I was halfway out the door.”
I looked at the ceiling. Maybe if I didn’t say it out loud, it wouldn’t become real.
“She’s friends with the Pied Piper.”
The room dropped into silence so heavy I could feel it clawing down my throat.
Then—crack.
Death’s fist slammed into the wooden wall beside him, splinters flying.
“Say that again.”
I stared at him, stunned.
Death rarely lost control. He was calm. Calculated. Deadly.
Dope sat up straight. “No fucking way, man.”
“She gave me his number. Told me not to keep him waiting.” I swallowed. “Like he was some goddamn dentist appointment.”
Death crossed the room in three strides, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and slammed me against the wall so hard the cabin shuddered. Pain shot through my spine as I swore through clenched teeth.
“Do you have any idea what you just stepped into?” he snarled.
“I didn’t fucking choose this,” I snapped. “He came to her. He’s been in her life. In mine. Maybe for years. And I didn’t even know.”
Death’s jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might break. His gray eyes looked hollow. Haunted.
“He doesn’t visit, Kip. He infects. He poisons everything he touches,” he gritted out and let me go.
Dope stood, crossing over to us. “What do you think he wants?”
“To finish what he started,” Death muttered. “He’s not done with us. With any of us.”
I couldn’t breathe. My skin itched. Like I was being watched even now.
“He’s already in my head,” I whispered. “Isn’t he?”
Death didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.
“Ella hasn’t been the same since she met him,” Dope said softly, his usual sarcasm stripped from his words.
He returned to his chair and grabbed his computer.
“Neither has Sebastian. The Pied Piper gets into people and spreads like a festering wound. Makes them think they’re making their own choices when he’s pulling the damn strings. ”
“But they’re not,” Death added. “They’re dancing to his fucking song.”
Dope’s fingers flew across the keyboard, and we waited while he worked his magic. A few minutes later, he turned the laptop toward us, screen glowing with a grainy photo. A group of smiling faces. Faded. Chilling.
“Recognize anyone?” he asked.
I leaned in, and the blood drained from my cheeks.
“That’s him,” Death said, pointing. “That’s definitely him.”
“And that’s—” I froze. “That’s my mother.”
Her arm was slung around the Pied Piper’s waist like they were old friends. Like he hadn’t ruined entire lives.
And beside them—
“Uncle Vinny,” I whispered.
He was grinning. Alive. Happy. Standing next to a woman I didn’t recognize.
“I thought he died in a car crash,” Dope said.
“That’s what I was told. I don’t think this picture is that old, but it could have been right before he died.”
I stared at the screen.
And then my stomach dropped.
“No.” I shook my head in dismay.
“What?” Dope asked.
“Back row. Left.” I pointed. “That’s Pastor Elias Pendleton. He baptized me. I went to school with his son.”
“He’s part of it too?” Death growled.
“He’s in every photo I’ve seen at my house,” I said numbly. “Every family album. School functions. Sunday mass. Birthdays. Fucking everywhere. I thought it was because I was friends with his son, but this …”
My knees nearly gave out. I braced myself against the edge of the table.
“It was all fake. All of it. My family pretended to be something that they’re not.”
Death stepped back as if the image physically burned him. “The Pied Piper doesn’t only kill people, Kip. He builds nests. Cultivates monsters.”
I focused on my mother’s smile in the photo.
My voice cracked as a new reality crushed my chest. “What if I was one of them?”
No one answered.
Because no one could.