Chapter 39 Holland
HOLLAND
“I’m going to drop by Velvet Vortex, then I’ll see you later.” Kip leaned over the car console and kissed me.
“Sounds good.” I kissed him one more time before I climbed out of his car. Truthfully, we both had a lot to process, and I needed a minute to myself. I suspected he did, too.
His car idled in my driveway as I walked to the front entrance, unlocked it, then gave him a little wave before I stepped inside.
Kip had insisted that he walk me inside, but I refused to lean on him for everything.
I had my gun. I knew how to use it if I had to.
So far, I’d been lucky. The thought of hurting another human being hurt my heart.
At the same time, if my life depended on it, I’d already proved what I was capable of.
Thoughts of Dom invaded my mind, the sticky blood all over my hands as I sliced his neck with the piece of glass. Maybe those memories should terrify me, but they give me peace to know that he would never get up and hunt me … but Draco.
I clutched my purse to my side as I scanned the living room and kitchen before I closed the door behind me. I wasn’t stupid enough to think Draco was our only problem left, and once Kip and I dealt with him, I would be free for good.
I barked out a laugh as I drew my weapon and walked toward the kitchen.
I swept the living room again, a shiver crawling up my spine.
The last time I stood here, there’d been a smashed coffee table, an ashtray in pieces, Cooper’s body bleeding out across the rug, and pools of blood soaking into the floorboards.
Now … nothing. Not a single trace. Everything was spotless, scrubbed clean like it had never happened.
Kip’s handiwork. The kind of “cleaner” job I hadn’t been conscious to witness.
Everything was normal. All that was left was the bedroom, closet, and bathroom.
Feeling more confident, I looked under my bed and in the closet.
It was all clear. Normally I would have chided myself for being so cautious, but I should have been this careful all along.
If I had, maybe Draco wouldn’t have found me.
I blew out a sigh of relief as I realized I needed to pee.
I set my handbag and gun on the nightstand and hurried to the primary bathroom.
Pushing the door the rest of the way open, I stepped inside and flipped on the light.
A scream ripped through me, piercing the air as I struggled to wrap my head around what I was seeing.
Draco.
In my bathtub.
Dead.
But moving? I stared at his stomach, my mouth forming another scream.
“Fuck going pee.” I glanced down at the floor to make sure I hadn’t pissed my pants, then ran out of the room to find my phone and grab my gun. Once I had them, I bolted to the living room, trembling as I brought up Kip’s number.
He answered on the first ring.
“Miss me already?” he asked, a smirk in his tone.
“Yes. Please come over now.”
“Holland? What’s wrong? Are you safe?” Fear clung to his words.
“Yes, but I don’t want to tell you over the phone other than …” I gulped. “I’m not alone.”
“Fuck!”
Tires squealed, and I imagined he pulled an illegal U-turn back toward my place.
“I’m only five minutes away. Stay on the phone with me.”
“I will. Hurry. I—” I stammered. “I don’t understand. It doesn’t make sense.” My voice was a whisper.
“Did you call the cops? I’m three minutes away.”
“No. Oh god, as much shit is going on? No. The idea didn’t even cross my mind.” I leaned against the wall for support, counting in my head to distract myself from the sight of Draco in my tub. How is he moving if he’s dead?
“Good girl.”
Those two words made my thighs clench. Kip’s praise was low, possessive, and for a minute my body forgot there was a man in my bathtub and just focused on how I wanted Kip to bend me over, pull my hair, and fuck all the darkness away.
“I’m here. Open the front door.”
Seconds later, he barreled into my house. He grabbed my shoulders. “You’re okay? You’re not hurt?”
I glanced around. “Where’s Dog?”
“In the car with the window down. He’ll stay put until I call him.”
“Follow me.” There was no way to explain what happened, because I wasn’t even sure.
We reached my bedroom, and I pointed to the bathroom. “The tub.”
I followed him and waited for him to assess the situation.
“What the fuck?” Kip shot me a look. “Well, Draco looks dead, but why is his stomach moving?”
“I didn’t stick around long enough to find out. I tucked my tail between my legs and called you.”
Kip crouched beside the tub, his face grim. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t gag. Just stared like he’d seen this kind of thing before.
His fingers brushed along the seam of Draco’s abdomen. “Stitched.”
“What?” I choked, still frozen near the doorway.
“Stitched shut. Clean. Surgical.”
Draco’s torso twitched again—his stomach bulged, skin rippling like something was crawling beneath it. I slapped a hand over my mouth, bile burning the back of my throat.
“What is that?” My voice cracked. “Why is he still moving?”
Kip exhaled hard through his nose. “Snakes.”
My knees buckled. I clutched the doorframe like it could anchor me to reality. “You’re not serious.”
“They’re alive.” Kip didn’t look away from the horror in front of us. “He sedated them. Probably kept them chilled to slow their heartbeat. Then sewed them inside while they were unconscious and before they woke up inside him.”
I staggered back, bile burning its way up my throat. “That’s not—how is that even possible?”
“It doesn’t need to be possible,” Kip said flatly. “It needs to be theatrical. Symbolic.”
My gaze shifted to the small white slip of paper pinned to Draco’s shirt. Neat handwriting. Precise. Stained with a single drop of blood.
I forced myself to look.
You’re welcome. —Dad.
The words hit me harder than the corpse.
My stomach clenched. “He did this for me.”
Kip stood, his expression unreadable. “He did this for himself.”
“He killed Draco because he hurt me.”
“He killed him because Draco touched what the Pied Piper thinks he owns.”
My chest rose and fell too fast. “But he sold me. He gave me to those monsters.”
Kip turned to look at me fully. “And in his mind? That made you.”
I blinked at him, stunned.
Kip’s tone darkened. “That’s how narcissists work. They don’t see betrayal. They see creation. He doesn’t regret what he did to you—he thinks it forged you. That your pain was part of some divine design.”
“He sold his daughter,” I whispered, “and now he thinks he’s my father again?”
“He never stopped,” Kip said. “Not in his head. Are you surviving? That just confirmed his god complex. He thinks you became strong because of him.”
I looked at Draco’s bloated corpse, the snakes writhing beneath his skin.
“He thinks this makes us even.”
“No.” Kip stepped closer; his stare locked on mine. “He thinks this makes him worthy of your forgiveness. Of your loyalty. Of your fucking love.”
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t blink. Inside that rotting shell, slithery, gross things thrashed—trapped, waking, coiled in hell.
Just like I had been once.
My jaw trembled. “He turned Draco into a sermon.”
“He turned Draco into a sacrifice,” Kip said. “The snakes, the body, the message—it’s biblical. He thinks he’s cleaning house. Ridding you of your abuser. Like a father should.”
“But only now that I’ve survived,” I whispered. “Only now that I’m something he can claim.”
“Yes,” Kip said. “Because now you’re the monster he designed. And monsters belong to him.”
I gulped as the snakes squirmed beneath Draco’s ruined skin, and I didn’t scream again. I didn’t cry. I stopped feeling altogether.
A buzzing silence filled my ears, as if my brain was trying to shield me from what I wasn’t supposed to survive.
But I had.
Again.
Always.
I bent down, plucked the bloodstained note from Draco’s shirt, and held it between two fingers.
You’re welcome. —Dad.
A tremor passed through me. Not from fear. Not this time.
Something colder. Something sharper.
Kip watched me cautiously. “Holland?”
“I’m fine,” I said. And I was. In that strange, terrifying way that meant I wasn’t.
I turned and walked out of the bathroom.
The world could explode behind me, and I wouldn’t flinch.
Not anymore.
Kip didn’t say anything as he wrapped Draco’s body in plastic sheeting. Efficient. Silent. His movements were clinical, practiced, and detached. Like this wasn’t the first time. Like it wouldn’t be the last.
“I’ll be back for the blood,” he said, dragging the corpse down the hallway toward the back door.
I nodded, but I was already walking toward my bedroom. I didn’t know what I was looking for. Maybe bleach. Maybe something to scrub the walls clean.
What if the Pied Piper sat on your bed or, worse, put Draco there?
Frantic, I tugged the sheets off the bed and peeled the comforter back.
That’s when I saw it.
A small square, face down on my pillow.
It wasn’t there earlier.
My breath caught in my throat as I reached for it. Flipped it over.
A picture.
Me.
Asleep. Turned toward the wall. One arm curled under my pillow. Hair tangled. Neck exposed.
The timestamp in the bottom corner: 12:13 a.m. Two nights ago.
I hadn’t been with Kip. I’d been alone. And yet, in the photo … a shadow hovered near the foot of the bed. Barely visible in the corner of the frame.
Watching.
I dropped the photo. Stumbled back. My skin went cold, but I didn’t scream.
I picked it up again. Folded it slowly. Carefully. Slipped it into the pocket of my hoodie.
No panic.
No tears.
Only the sharp, clean edge of rage.
“You don’t get to haunt me anymore,” I whispered into the empty room. “Next time, I’ll see you coming.”