Prologue #3
They lift my mother to her bed at an angle that allows Fredrick and Griff the ability to stand on the floor.
Striding over to get a better view, my gaze lands on my father’s—his stoic mask still firmly in place. There’s no hurt or anger to be found in the desecration of his wife of twenty-five years.
“Holy fucking shit, she’s clamping down on my dick, the dead whore is turned on,” Jackson declares, tearing my attention away from the emotionless asshole.
Quickening my steps, I arrive in time to hear my mother’s whimpered moans—the sound making my stomach churn. Too reminiscent of my times with her. Even as she draws close to her death, the sick and depraved slut can’t help but want it.
Jackson grunts, fucking my mom like he’s never fucked before. “Give me the bitch’s cheek,” he orders, and I quickly comply.
“Twinsie,” Griff and Fredrick holler, high-fiving each other as the seesaw in and out of the holes in my mother’s cheeks.
“Fucking clowns,” I snort, flicking my eyes to where Jackson is slamming into my mother’s pussy while using the flesh of her cheek to rub her clit.
Everything moves in what feels like warp speed. My mother’s back bows, Fredrick’s cum drains out mixed with blood, seconds before Griff’s follows suit. My mother’s body begins to jerk, but it’s unclear if the tremors are from dying or coming.
Answers I’ll never get as she falls limp, small twitches before going completely still. It’s a sight I’ll never forget. I’m sure it’ll make its way into my hand job material.
Jackson pulls out, pumping his shaft until he comes all over her perfectly shaped and paid for double Ds.
I peer down at my watch. “We’re making good time. Put your dicks away and collect the bodies. I want them to find all of us in here.” The three of them begin to move as I rapid-fire more instructions.
Turning, I face the victim. Although, victim isn’t the word I would ever use to describe my father.
“I won,” I taunt. “I freed them and myself.”
I’m a monster—a product of my parents’ making. One that has been caged for far too long—one they tried to coax into compliance. Now, the very beast they sought to control is the one who ends them. It feels kismet—an elegy written in their blood by their own hands.
Titling his head, my father retorts, “You think so?”
“Yes,” I hiss through clenched teeth.
Arching a brow, he shifts slightly before the evilest of his grins forms. “Let me guess. You’re going to make this look like I snapped. The tightly wound Randolph Gordon finally loses it and, in a blind rage, slaughters his entire family in the most gruesome murder in Talbot history. Am I right?”
Nostrils flaring, I maintain my composure. “I’d never let you take credit for this, you narcissistic bastard.” Even if that was my original intent, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of thinking he knows me.
“Mikah—son, you’re far too predictable,” he sighs. “Thus is your greatest folly, and try as I might, I couldn’t beat it out of you.”
“Hurry the fuck up,” I shout, refusing to breathe the same air as this asshole any longer.
Griff enters first, carrying Mikayla and laying her next to my mother before quickly exiting the bedroom again.
I study the body a bit more. At least I think it’s her.
The damage to her body makes her unrecognizable.
If she weren’t wearing her favorite princess pjs, I’d almost mistake her for one of my other siblings.
Then Jackson drops Foster on the other side of my mother.
Moments later, Laurel, Ashleigh, and little Leigh’s bodies are placed on my mother’s chest. I have to fight back the turmoil of emotions raging in my chest at the sight of my youngest sister.
It had to be done, Mikah. You had to save them.
Shaking off the warmth trying to worm its way into me, I look to the doorway for Griff to come back with the last body.
When time continues to tick by with no Griff, I yell, “Is everything set?” I don’t miss the all-knowing smirk on my father’s face.
“I’ll check,” Jackson states, but I don’t move my attention from the heartless prick before me.
Time ticks, and I’m caught in a battle, but I refuse to look away first.
“We can’t find Tati,” Griff announces, and my body goes still.
My head snaps in Griff’s direction. “What do you mean you can’t find her? A dead body doesn’t just get up and walk away?” I growl.
“Fuck,” I shout. “Search the house, now.” I bark out instructions before they all move.
All three of them disappear, leaving me with nearly all of my family intact. I need Tati to finish this. I can’t kill him without her there to see me avenge them—to avenge her.
“You’ve passed the test, son, and I couldn’t be prouder.” I’m so stunned by the disappearance of my sister that I nearly miss what my father’s saying.
Turning, I rebut, “I don’t need your praise.”
But he continues as if my words mean nothing. “The Gordon line is in capable hands,” he exclaims.
My lips part to ask him what the fuck he’s talking about, but he beats me to the punch. “They’re on their way, Mikah.”
Then I watch in slow motion as he cracks something in his mouth.
Surging forward, I pry his lips apart, but I know it’s too late.
“They’re already on their way,” he chuckles before going still—a bright Cheshire Cat smile still plastered on his face.