Chapter 43 #2
“I enjoy this more than I should.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m wondering … what if she had a scar like that on her face?” He presses the blade to her cheek, and she holds still, her eyes wide.
My jaw clenches, but I never stop fighting my way out of their grip.
“Or a slit on her throat?” He grabs her hair, yanks her head back, and presses the knife to her throat.
“No, no, no! Don’t you dare touch her!”
Tears run down her cheeks uncontrollably as her eyes fix on mine. “Close your eyes,” she sobs. “Please, Cain, close your eyes.”
“Kill me, you fucking coward! I am your enemy; she’s innocent.”
“I prefer the term ‘collateral damage.’ But remind me. Weren’t you that sick fucking bastard who butchered and decapitated my son?”
“He killed my mother. You brainwashed him to torture me.”
“You. Killed. My fucking son!” he fumes, turning red. “Killing your whore in front of your fucking eyes is the best revenge I can take.”
“Please, just close your eyes,” she sobs.
“Don’t listen to her. Don’t be such a coward. Look at me as I slit her fucking throat,” he growls, the knife digging deeper into her flesh, making a droplet of blood run down. She squeezes her eyes, and her breathing becomes quicker.
“Stop! Stop it now! Take me!”
God, no. No, no, no. I can’t lose her. She can’t die because of me. I’m drowning. Drowning in panic, in guilt, in everything I never said. I can’t imagine my life without her. I can’t do it. I just can’t.
Please, God, please—
A gunshot splits the silence.
Wade twists midair like a rag doll, blood trailing as he crashes to the ground.
Everything stops. Everyone freezes.
Then, everyone’s heads turn toward the choir loft. It’s Grayson. It’s fucking Grayson!
I find the chance and shove these fuckers off me. Finally, I break free, shaking with rage, ready to fucking kill.
But strangely, I don’t think about revenge at the moment. I think of her. Only her. I bolt toward her and cut her ties, releasing her.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask, cupping her face.
She nods, her brows narrow. “I’m fine.”
“I’m so sorry, babe.” I kiss her lips. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
“You’re here now,” she mutters with a shaky voice.
Suddenly, her eyes widen. “Watch out!”
A wooden chair crashes against my back, splintering into pieces.
“Your fucking pet missed!”
He’s still alive? Fuck.
Adam and Judas are still busy killing everyone else now that the chaos has started again. So now there’s just me and him.
I stand up and face him, getting ready for a physical fight.
“You look like shit,” he says, grinning through bloodstained teeth.
“You should have stayed dead,” I reply, rolling my neck. “Let’s fix both.”
“You spoiled fucking brat,” he roars, charging at me. The dude’s sixty years old, two bullets in him, and he’s still alive and kicking. I give that to him.
I sidestep, grab his arm, and drive my knee into his ribs. He gasps, spitting blood.
“I just want to know one thing before I finally kill you for good. How did you survive the explosion?” I ask, wiping the blood from my lips with the back of my hand.
He lets out a guttural chuckle. “Vincent.”
“Who’s Vincent? Your boyfriend?”
He stands—as much as he can—and faces me. “Vincent is the one who saved me. And ever since then, he’s become my friend. My family. He slowly fed my hate until I was whole again. Until I could see clearly through the oblivion you damned me to.”
“And where is your beloved pet now?”
“Where do you think?”
“Cain, no!” Kate?ina screams, her voice squeaky.
Instantly, a cold blade presses against my throat, and an arm pulls me back.
“Vincent, I suppose.”
“Finally, I have the honor to hold my mentor’s bastard son under my blade,” he growls in my ear. He sounds older than me, maybe about fifty. The nerve these fuckers have.
“The pleasure is all mine,” I reply.
Wade marches up to Kate?ina and grabs her by the throat.
“Now, let’s try this again,” he says through clenched teeth.
I turn my head just slightly.
“If you don’t drop that knife right fucking now, I’ll stain these walls with your blood and make him watch while I butcher every soul in this godforsaken church—and you won’t even have time to beg.”
Kate?ina yanks her body harder this time and slams her knee into his crotch. That’s my girl.
Wade groans, folding with a sick sound caught between a snarl and a choke.
She doesn’t wait. She grabs the gun from his holster like she’s done it a hundred times.
“Let him go!” She points the gun at Vincent.
My eyes drift back to where Grayson was, but he’s vanished.
“Put that down, princess. Unless you want to watch me gut your boyfriend like I did his lapdog.”
I whip my head back and feel Vincent’s nose shatter. He stumbles. I take his knife and open his throat without a second thought.
I watch him bleed out with wide eyes. His mouth twitches like he’s still trying to speak.
I lean in close over his soon-to-be-dead body.
“If Grayson’s dead, I’ll crawl through hell to find you, and I’ll make you wish the devil took you first.”
I look right back at her. Wade lunges at her, but she shoots him like it’s second nature.
My breath catches. I hope she didn’t kill him.
Quickly, I search Vincent’s blood-soaked clothes and find a knife.
Jackpot.
As I march towards him, from the corner of my eyes, I see someone running towards me.
I grab the fucker by the neck like an animal and drive my knee into his ribcage. He barely gets a breath before I jam the blade up under his jaw, hard enough to crack teeth.
His blood splashes all over me, but that gives me so much satisfaction. He’s dead already, but I don’t give a shit.
I slam him against the wall and keep stabbing, grunting with each strike like I’m beating the hate out of myself. His face splits, his teeth scatter across the floor, and still, I don’t stop.
But this isn’t the main course. He’s nothing—just a warm-up. Wade’s next. And I’m going to make him scream until his fucking soul begs to crawl out of his skin.
He’s on his knees from the shot, but he’s still alive.
“You bastard,” he mutters right before my boot meets his jaw, spraying his blood around him.
Kate?ina gasps next to me, but I don’t stop. Not until I’m sure he’s dead, this time for good.
“You never shut the fuck up, do you?” I sneer, breath jagged.
“You’re just noise now … miserable, useless fucking noise.
” I kick him again, on the wound of the bullet, this time making him groan louder.
“And frankly, you repeat yourself so fucking much it’s just pathetic.
” I lean lower, grab his silver hair tightly in my hand, and hoist his head upwards. “But now it’s my turn to talk.”
God, it’s so tempting to slit his throat and be over with him.
But I promised myself that when I see him again, I’ll take my time with him.
I want him to feel every breath like a curse, every second drenched with dread.
I want to watch the horror bloom in his eyes as he realizes there’s no way out.
Make him beg me to spare his miserable existence.
He rolls to his side, grunting with agony. “Come on, Manson. Do it. Kill me like the savage you are.”
I chuckle, taking the cigarette I brought with me out of my pocket. “You’ll beg, honey, but that’s not the kind of begging I want to hear from your lips.” I light up the cigarette and inhale it deeply.
“I want your begging to be graceful enough to let you live.” I exhale the smoke and kick his face again, scattering bloody teeth all over the floor. “I want you to feel the way I felt. The way your precious son felt right before I chopped off his fucking head.”
Someone lunges at Kate?ina, snarling, holding a knife in his hand. A shot cracks out. He drops mid-step with a hole in his head, blood spraying across her face and chest. She doesn’t move. She just stands there shocked, soaked in it.
Behind her, Adam lowers the gun, calm as ever, raises two fingers to his temple, and gives me that casual salute. He saved my girl. I meet his gaze and give the slightest nod.
From the other side of the room, I see Grayson—limping, wounded, but still alive—watching me as if giving me his permission to move ahead. I know he didn’t kill him for a reason. I know he wanted to slow him down, to give me the satisfaction of killing him myself.
I’m getting impatient. I want this over already.
I scan the place, and through the chaos, the broken benches, and the shattered glasses, I see it.
A dirty plastic container behind the altar, next to a broken crucifix. A gallon of pure paraffin lamp oil. Flammable as hell.
I walk up to it, grab it, twist off the cap, and take a whiff. The smell of absolution.
Kate?ina is still watching me, drenched in blood, her hair red from it, no longer blonde.
He is crawling, trailing blood across the floor like a slug.
His mouth keeps talking, choking out some prayer or apology.
He can cry to whatever god he wants. No one is listening.
He should’ve learned by now that God doesn’t answer from inside these walls.
And He sure as hell won’t save him from me.
Not when I am the one dragging him to the grave.
I grab him by the collar and yank him upright, my cigarette dangling from my lips. He still fights me—I give that to him—but I slam him against the altar. His eyes go wide when he sees the bottle.
“No, wait—”
“What’s the matter, Daddy? Afraid of fire?”
I tilt the canister and pour it all over him, drenching him from head to toe.
“Cain, wait. Please, don’t do this,” he sobs, praying like it’s gonna make a difference. “No, not again …”
I suck the smoke and remove it from my lips.
“Not again, you say. Funny … almost word for word what I used to scream at you and that obedient little son of yours. ‘Let me go. Please, just let me go.’ But no, neither of you ever listened. And now look how the tables have turned.”
“I’m sorry,” he stammers through missing teeth. “No, no, no, please, Cain.”
Cain …
Some names carry pride.
Others carry shame.
Mine carries history. Not the kind they tell in church or bedtime stories. It carries a history of a deranged mind and a corrupted soul. A name that becomes the bane of those who speak it.
I toss him down and drag my cigarette one last time to ignite its flame again.
“See you in hell.”
I flick the cigarette into his lap.
For a half second, nothing. Then whoomph.
The flames eat him alive, and this euphoric feeling of revenge consumes me once more.
The chaos instantly stops. As if they know there’s no reason to keep fighting. But Judas and Adam are insatiable and execute every last one of them anyway.
I watch Wade’s burned sack of meat until it stops moving. I need to be sure this time. Only then do I turn my back on the fire and walk away from it.
Kate?ina is still there, waiting for me.
I extend my hand, inviting her to come with me. And she does. She extends her blood-soaked hand and rests it on mine.
“You did it,” she mutters, blinking slowly. “You can find your peace now.”
People might say I was born with blood on my hands. That I was marked before I ever sinned.
They’re fucking right.
I didn’t fall from grace. I was never given it.
But she’s still here. Here with me. Here for me. Mine. All mine.
“It’s over,” she says softly.
She’s wrong. Nothing’s over yet.