23. Sagan
23
SAGAN
B eatrix’s body sways as her eyes bounce back and forth between us, her breathing comes in soft gasps. I reach out and grab her elbow to steady her. Immediately, Beatrix attempts to jerk her arm away but my grip tightens. She winces before giving up.
“This isn’t happening,” she whispers hoarsely. “ Please tell me you’re not related to Patrick. He never mentioned having kids.”
“It’s an unfortunate truth, Little Viper,” I tell her grimly. “But don’t worry, we’re nothing like that bastard.”
Judging by her expression, she doesn’t believe me. No matter. She’ll see soon enough that we’re vastly different from him.
“I’m not surprised he never mentioned us,” Thatcher drawls. “By admitting he had kids, he’d have to admit his failures as a father.” He tilts his head to regard her with a sly smile. “I hope you won't hold this against us.”
Beatrix scoffs in disgust. “Did you know who I was? Last night I mean… Did you know we were—” she swallows visibly as she glares at my brother “— related ?”
“I knew who you were the minute you walked into that bar,” Thatcher assures her. His amusement sweeps through me. He’s enjoying her panic. I don’t blame him. Her shock and fear has my cock hard as a rock. “I wanted to get to know you a bit before we started the rest of our lives together. But you are such a beguiling woman, Little Sister—” Beatrix flinches. “—and I couldn’t resist the temptation you presented.”
Again, Beatrix sways. This time, her face goes slack, and her eyes begin to glaze over. I pull her closer ready to grab her in case she faints. To my delight, Beatrix sags against me. The motion is instinctive rather than deliberate. Still, my heart does something strange. Is it… fluttering? Tilting my head down, I suck in a deep breath of her honey and lavender scent. It makes me dizzy with excitement and causes my dick to harden even more with eagerness.
“T-this is messed up. Why are you both here?” She shoots me a wary look just as the recorded bell overhead rings and Knox saunters through the front door. “Why are all three of you here?”
I chuckle. “That’s a loaded question, Little Viper.”
“Well, originally we came to kill you, Patrick, and Lauren,” Knox says casually then laughs at her soft cry of alarm.
A heavy tremor rushes through Beatrix as she stiffens.
“Be nice, Pretty Boy. Beatrix isn’t used to your flippancy yet,” Thatcher warns, but his smile doesn’t falter.
Knox rolls his eyes and spares Beatrix a bored look. “Don’t worry, Starr Girl. These two changed their minds so you’re golden now. So golden in fact, I’m guessing they’re the reason Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb suddenly went poof up at the house.”
Beatrix flinches in surprise. “What? Really? You guys got rid of Trevor and Sebastian?”
Her liquid amber eyes touch my face as she searches for answers, and I feel myself melt into them.
“They’re not gone yet ,” I answer slowly. “But they will be. Let’s walk and talk.”
The shock of the situation seems to be wearing off because her eyes flash with indignation and she’s back to pulling away from me. “This is sick. You’ve both touched me knowing we’re related. This is so messed up.”
Immediately I shift my hold on her, letting go of her arm so that I can grab the back of her neck possessively. I jerk her toward me, and she gasps. I savor the way her pupils blow wide and her lips part in a soft gasp. The challenge in Beatrix’s eyes falters as she realizes there’s no use fighting me. She licks her bottom lip nervously. I track the motion. For a second, I think about leaning down to claim those full lips. But I hold myself back.
“That’s right. I have touched you. I left my mark all over you,” I growl before smiling at the color blossoming under her beautiful brown skin. “Last I checked, you loved every fucking second of it.”
“You’re sick,” she hisses with a heavy scowl.
“Yet you're turned on just thinking about it,” I note as her breath hitches. “Who’s sicker?”
“It’s strange that your sexual adventures with the twins are what bother you the most, especially since you’re not blood related,” Knox comments thoughtfully, moving around her to stroll toward the back hallway. “Asking them to kill their own father? Now that’s pretty fucked up.”
Beatrix gapes, and Thatcher laughs. I let her neck go to drape my arm over her shoulders. This time, she doesn’t fight my touch. My brother comes up on her other side and he grabs her hand. It’s a casual touch, but I know it’s anything but. I can feel his anxiousness, the hard need for the contact pressing against our bond and how it eases as he weaves his fingers through hers. It’s not appreciated by Beatrix who tries and fails to pull away.
“I’m glad the murdering part doesn’t faze you, Little Sister,” Thatcher says. “Since it’s what we do.”
There’s a short pause, as if Beatrix doesn’t want to ask but needs to know the answer. “What do you mean?”
Thatcher smiles down at her as we walk. “For years the three of us have been roaming the states, killing and living off our various talents.”
There’s a short pause as Beatrix works the shock and tension from her body, inspired by Thatcher’s confession.
“Oh, ah, what changed?” Beatrix asks after a second.
Thatcher nudges his head toward Knox who strolls ahead of us. “We realized our Pretty Boy needed something stable and, given that we’ll do anything for him, we had to reassess our priorities.”
“Killing Patrick was always going to happen,” I pick up where Thatcher leaves off. “As fate had it, our father had a pretty nice set up here. Having married into a family with an already established business, a house long since paid off, and living in a small town just outside a large city—the plan came easily to us.”
Beatrix glances at me warily through her lashes. “Your plan to murder us all?”
“Yes,” Thatcher answers. “And to take everything that belonged to him. We had Knox come by a few weeks ago with a new will and paperwork to transfer the house and business into his name, and he was successful in getting Patrick and Lauren to sign everything.”
Beatrix’s footsteps stagger as her shoulders go absolutely slack. Her expression crumbles and twists, turning into a mask of absolute devastation.
“So… so you’re taking all this away from me?” she asks as we approach the back of the funeral home.
“Yes,” Thatcher nods as Knox pushes the button that opens a set of double doors. “And no.”
“Wait, why are we going into the cremation chamber?” Beatrix asks, her voice jumping up an octave. “If you’re not going to kill me then why?—”
“We’re not.” Leaning down, I growl into her ear, “You are ours now, Little Viper. You couldn’t escape us even if you tried.”
Thatcher nods. “He’s right, so don’t try and run. And as for what’s in here? It’s a little gift. A bit impromptu, but I think you’ll appreciate it.”
Together, we enter the large garage space. It’s significantly warmer in here, by fifteen or twenty degrees, no doubt due to the furnace being on. On the floor lay Beatrix’s tormentors. A violent rage rattles up from my core at the sight of the two unconscious men. I suck in a sharp breath. If Thatcher hadn’t stepped in, they’d both be dead already. I’m glad he stopped me, though. Bringing them here for Beatrix was a much better solution. The redhead is bound, but the other, I left free. I almost want him to wake and try to run—giving chase is all part of the fun.
Beatrix freezes at the sight of both men. A choked off squeak of surprise slips past her lips before she slaps her hand over her mouth. Immediately, I let my arm slide off her shoulders to grip the back of her neck once more. This time, I’m more careful how I hold her—the touch is to settle not to keep her from escaping.
On the ground, the one called Trevor groans. His unbound hands twitch as he begins to stir. Beneath my touch, I can feel my pet swallow hard.
“What are they doing here?” she asks.
Thatcher flashes her a grin. “We’re here to start our life with you, Little Sister, but before we do that, I thought we could clean house of the men who thought they could fuck with you and get away with it.”
“ What ? But I didn’t ask?—”
“You didn’t have to, Little Viper,” I assure her, cutting off her breathless confusion. “You’re one of us now, and we protect one another.”
My thumb strokes my pet’s frantic pulse. Feeling it settles something inside of me. For months I’ve desired, I’ve craved, I’ve coveted, and now? Beatrix Starr is here at my side.
“One of you?” she repeats. The soft skin between her brows puckers with confusion.
“A killer,” Thatcher explains.
Beatrix shakes her head. “I’m not?—”
“Oh but you absolutely are , Little Sister! You solidified your killer status the moment you hung that scarf from your window. You might as well have killed Patrick and Lauren yourself,” Thatcher interrupts gleefully. His smile widens as his excitement flutters through our bond. “It’s why we changed our minds about killing you. You’ve shown us you’re worthy of being a part of our family.”
She watches as Trevor tries to sit up. His arms tremble and fail to lift the rest of his body. He lets out a soft groan of frustration and pain.
“He’s going to be so pissed,” she murmurs to no one in particular as she stares down at him.
“Not for long,” Knox chuckles as he walks over to the rolling tables that house Lauren Starr and our father in their cardboard boxes. He pulls himself up and sits on the edge, facing us. “He can’t be mad and dead.”
Trevor stirs again, this time pushing, and making it, up onto his forearms. He breathes heavily, as if the movement had been a chore. After a second, he lifts his head and looks up at us.
“W-what… What’s going on? Who the hell are you people?” His eyes land on my pet and I stiffen as his pupils narrow possessively “Trix or Treats? What the fuck is this?”
Trix or Treats …? The nickname is like sandpaper against my brain. I can almost hear the taunt in his voice despite his wary confusion. I itch to step forward, pull out my knife, and cut out his tongue. Under my fingers, Beatrix’s pulse spikes. I pull her closer. My pet surprises me by leaning into my body. The motion is telling. She’s more afraid of the man on the floor than she is of me.
That won’t do.
“You asked if we’re taking everything from you, Beatrix,” Thatcher says, gaining her attention. “While legally we are, we want you to feel included. You’ll stay here with us and be a part of our family. We’ll help run the business with you and bring it back to life?—”
“Which is ironic given the business is all about death,” Knox jokes.
“—and in return, you’ll never be, or feel, alone again, Little Sister,” my brother continues. “We are besotted with you. Let us shower you with the attention and care you deserve.”
“Ah,” Knox raises a hand like he’s in a classroom. “I’m just going to interject here and say that I’m not besotted, but I’ve accepted that I have to tolerate your presence.”
My body trembles as I chuckle. Knox might not be a fan of Beatrix yet, but I have a sinking suspicion that they might be quite good for one another.
Trevor looks between us with a dumb look of befuddlement and worry before he looks back at my pet.
“Don’t buy into this shit, Trix,” Trevor says as he gets to his feet. “These guys jumped me and Sebastian—” The boy stops talking to look over at his friend. “Wait, what the fuck? Why is he tied up? Beatrix, what the fuck is going on?!”
Knox’s loud sigh is paired with his famous exasperated eye roll. “Aren’t you listening? We’re in the middle of initiation. Now be a good sacrifice and shut up.”
Beatrix shifts to look up at me. Hope is a small ember flickering in the depths of her eyes. This is what she wants. For as long as I’ve been watching her, my pet has been alone to suffer at life’s cruel hands. She wants to belong somewhere, and we’re giving her that. She won’t fight this. I feel it in my bones. Nervously, Beatrix licks her bottom lip and slowly nods in acceptance of her fate.
Thatcher grins then says, “There are three rules that we insist upon in this family, Beatrix. Follow them, and you’ll be happy. We promise.”
“Ok.” She swallows. “W-what are the rules?” she asks him slowly.
With a chuckle, I answer her, “We’ll talk about them later but trust me, they’re easy to abide by.”
“What is this sick fucking conversation?” Trevor demands as he stomps over to us. “Goddamn it, Trix or Treats. Are you listening? I know you’re stupid, but you can’t be this stupid! Get away from them, they’re dangerous!”
The burn of hope and rising acceptance in Beatrix’s eyes vanishes at his words. Her expression shutters before closing off altogether. As her eyes drop to the floor, my teeth gnash together. Slowly, I turn my attention to her tormentor. Little does he know, he has interrupted us for the last time. He’s not smart enough to notice the promise of death as I glare at him. Rather than begin begging, Trevor’s upper lip curls up in a muted snarl.
My resolve is echoed through my bond with my brother. Thatcher sighs and steps forward, rolling up the sleeves of his plain black shirt. As I hold the gaze of my pet’s tormentor, Thatcher looks back at her.
“Let us show you what we will do for you, Little Sister. Knox,” he calls to our Pretty Boy. “Open the door for me, will you?”
Knox claps his hands together and whoops. “Alright! Finally , we’re getting to the fun part.”
He jumps down off the edge of the rolling table and moves to the large furnace’s door.
“Did you guys know this thing is called a retort ?” Knox asks. “People also call it a cremation chamber—isn’t that right Starr Girl?”
My Pretty Boy jabs the button and the door to the furnace opens. As it does, heat billows out to fill the space around us. Trevor gasps and freezes. With his attention elsewhere, I strike. As my brother and Knox descend upon the unconscious redhead, bound and unaware of his impending fate, I grab Trevor.
He doesn’t have time to react. One moment he’s posturing in front of me, the next he’s on his knees wailing. His hands are yanked behind his back, my foot between his shoulder blades. In this position, standing behind him, I can see my Little Viper. With eyes wide and her mouth parted, she bears witness to Trevor’s friend being lifted by Thatcher and Knox then shoved into the cremation chamber. The redhead stirs as the heat that surrounds him becomes too intense to ignore. He lifts his head with a groan just as Knox pushes the button and the door to the furnace slides shut.
“No! Sebastian!” Trevor shouts in horror, thrashing uselessly in my grip.
Knox laughs as he steps aside so we can all watch the show through the small glass window. On the other side of the door, Sebastian cries out. Flames erupt and engulf his body. His hands slap and claw against the door. Though muffled through the thick steel door and glass, the sound of agony is captivating.
Looking away from the carnage, my eyes land on my pet, wondering how she’ll take this brutality. Incrementally, Beatrix’s slacken face shifts. Her mouth closes and the white rings around her irises disappear. Her head tilts as she watches Sebastian cook.
She’s not scared, she’s fascinated.
I knew she was one of us.
The panicked rapid slapping of Sebastian’s hands on the other side of the glass, along with his wails, increases in tempo and strength. Then suddenly, they cut off.
“Please, Trix, don’t let them do this to me! Please, stop this! ” Trevor screams. He tries to yank himself free from my hold, but at this angle he risks pulling his arms out of their sockets.
Beatrix tears her eyes away from the furnace to look at him. I suck in a sharp breath as her pupils narrow and her trembling hands curl into fists.
“You never stopped when I asked,” she points out. Her voice is cold and hard, as are her eyes as she stares down at him.
Knox turns to face Beatrix. “I knew someone like that. You know what I did about it?”
Beatrix doesn’t acknowledge him other than to tilt her chin in his direction.
“I killed him.”
“She’s not you !” Trevor roars. “Beatrix, you’re better than this! Help me!”
I yank his arms back further and he howls in agony at the same time Beatrix takes a single step toward him.
“Stop asking me to save you!” she demands, sharply. “You never stopped when I begged and cried while you and your friend took turns—” She swallows hard as revulsion twists her pretty face. “Just… stop it.”
Her words are a heavy blow that leaves the room deathly silent. A deep frisson splits within my chest and a molten rage wells up and spills into the crevices of my body. I have watched horrible things happen to my pet from afar, and each time she suffered, I quietly suffered with her. But I couldn’t step in. Not until Thatcher or Knox had sided with me on her fate. I had to have a majority rule to keep her alive. I hated it. While I never witnessed anything happen between her and the man I hold, I don’t doubt the agony that flares in those beautiful, rich amber eyes.
At least now I can be a part of her life and prevent anymore suffering.
The knowledge does nothing to quell the burning in my chest. Hot copper fills my mouth. It takes a second for me to realize that I’ve bitten my tongue.
Thatcher looks between me and our stepsister. I almost know what he’s thinking. His thoughts filter through my own head, moving too quickly to process like a movie playing at triple speed. But I can sense where they're going. I relax a little. A pleased hum stretches from my brother to me as he saunters toward our stepsister, a smile curling at his lips. As he stops before her, Beatrix blinks rapidly before she looks up at him.
“We’ll make sure he can’t hurt you again,” Thatcher promises her, reaching out to cup her cheek. She nods. It's a single, shallow bob of her head, but the resolve is there. It's in the hard press of her lips as her mouth flattens and in the way her brows gently furrow. “Two people going missing might draw a bit of suspicion, so we're going to handle this one a little differently. Why don't you go back to the house and relax?”
Her gaze flickers to me, then Knox, and finally to Patrick and Lauren who await their turn in the furnace. “I have work to do...”
Thatcher follows her gaze. “We'll take care of that too. How long do they need before they become ash?”
“About four hours each,” she says slowly.
“Done. We'll handle all of this,” Thatcher promises. “I think you dropped some of their belongings by the entrance. We'll grab those and burn them too.”
Beatrix looks back up at him, searching his face. “Alright...”
“I’ll come with you. These two have this taken care of,” Knox offers as Thatcher drops his hand away from my pet's face. “I’ll pick my room while I’m up there.”
“Perfect,” Thatcher declares, stepping back to let Knox throw his arms over our stepsister's shoulders and drag her toward the door. “We'll come up when everything is taken care of. By the time we join you, this will all be over, and we can start our life together.”
“We'll see you in a bit.” Knox turns my pet around, and together the two of them start to slip out of the door.
“Trix! Beatrix ! No, wait, please come back!” Trevor gasps.
Beatrix doesn't look back, and I'm proud of her for that. Thatcher and I listen to the shuffling of footsteps and Knox’s voice as he chats up Beatrix during their stroll up the hallway. Only when it’s silent do Thatcher and I return to the task at hand. My brother turns and looks down at Trevor.
“I wonder…” he says thoughtfully. “You know, you could always try to beg us for mercy. It didn’t work on Beatrix but maybe… maybe if you really mean it, we’ll find it in our hearts to let you go.”
Hope blossoms across Trevor’s face.
“How gracious of you, Thatcher. But ,” I hedge, keeping my tone thoughtful as I look down at the young man my pet fears. “You’re going to have to really mean it, Trevor. Maybe if you scream it loud enough, we’ll hear the sincerity?”
“Yeah, ok, I’ll do whatever you want!” Trevor offers eagerly. “You want me to scream? I’ll scream. Here I’ll?—”
He opens his mouth to yell but my fist makes contact with his temple faster than he can make a sound. The kid crumples to the ground like a sack of potatoes.
“Huh, I didn’t hear anything, did you?” I ask Thatcher.
My brother’s wicked grin is twisted with excitement. “No, brother, I didn’t. I guess that means he just didn’t want to live.”
“Well,” I shrug. “We tried to help him…”