Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Standing in the doorway of our father’s hunting cabin- or that’s what he called it when we were children- I sigh at Dee’s current state.
She’s covered in blood, with her latest kill spread out on the floor, starfish-style.
Using a scalpel, she cuts strips of his still-warm flesh, from sternum to hip.
Each piece is about an inch wide. With a smile, she holds up her latest bit to show me and wiggles it before tossing it into the open cooler that’s drenched in blood.
“Yum,” I deadpan, giving her shit.
Not fazed by my sarcasm, she flips me off and gets back to work, whistling as she does.
This is where Dee shines. I couldn’t tell you the last time we had the cabin this full.
Most of her kills are on location, just like the drug dealers last week.
She rarely gets a chance to take her time and savor each moment.
Dad would be proud. Dad would have loved this.
“Was the last time we had this many people here when Dad had me lure those guys from church?” I ask Dee, knowing she’ll remember the details far better than I do.
I was a teenager then. Around eighteen. Which would have made Dee underage.
Dipping her chin, she hums a yes.
That’s what I thought. Dad was convinced the middle-aged pastor and his sons, a few towns over, were molesting children.
I was ordered to attend Sunday service and befriend the boys.
That wasn’t hard. We bonded quickly, and within a month, I convinced them and their father to come fish in our pond.
In case you were wondering, we don’t have a pond, but they didn’t know that.
Dad locked all five of them in this very cabin, which is just an old, patchwork building with eight rooms—four on each side—two of which we no longer use.
They lost their doors in a storm, and we never bothered to fix them.
The roof has needed replacing since before we were born.
Somehow, it’s still standing—probably because of all the moss and other plants growing across it.
Water seeps through the cracks whenever it rains, and there are always a few yellow jacket nests stirring up trouble this time of year.
All in all, it’s a solid place for Dee’s victims, and its location couldn’t be more perfect.
Set in the woods, miles from anyone, with a cliff just close enough to use as our disposal.
How Dad managed to get away with murdering that family all those years ago remains a mystery to me, but he was clever.
Clever enough not to have the hunting cabin on our property, yet still within walking distance.
Clever enough to raise two daughters capable of kidnapping six people with nothing more than a little time, a blanket, a van, and drugs stolen from a local dealer, who is now conveniently dead.
While Dee does her thing, I walk the perimeter of the cabin. With three of the six captives already dead, I stop to eavesdrop on the three rooms on the opposite side.
Maxim and Penelope are whispering through their wall. As quiet as a mouse, I tiptoe to the edge of her door to listen. If they’re planning an escape, that will never happen. I wanna know. Color me curious, and a little bored.
With my job complete, the months of meticulous planning have finally paid off.
Unfortunately, once the high subsides, I don’t know what’s next.
I suppose it’ll be the same as it’s always been.
Planning, then death. For Dee. To keep her safe.
To protect her. To give her what she needs so she can live a semi-normal life.
Not that I know what that is. Neither of us do.
But I’m trying. I’ve been trying since before I remember even doing it.
Protecting her from herself, and more importantly, Dad.
Even in death, his legacy, his will, his abuse live within her. His precious Nadeera.
Penelope’s voice draws my attention.
“What are we going to do?” she asks her husband, voice wet with emotion.
“Let’s see who comes. Ah. Shit.”
“What?” Penelope whimpers.
Chains rattle, and there’s a grunt.
To see what’s happening, I open Maxim’s door and find him standing against the wall, foot poised and ready, glaring at the floor like a warrior. His scary attacker is Peanut, sniffing his way to the plate of bread I left in the room.
Pressing my lips together, I attempt and fail to stave off a laugh as Maxim swings his gunmetal gaze to me. His nostrils flare.
“You,” he seethes.
I shrug, not at all concerned by his presence.
Yes. It is I. The evil kidnapper.
Blah. Blah. Blah.
If this were a movie, I’d stand like some badass in the doorway, tell this asshole, in an overly articulate way, why he’s here, and then remind him he’ll soon be worm food.
Then I’d grin or laugh like a villain. But I don’t do any of that because I’m not the bad guy here.
He is. A hot one, I’ll give him that. Dark hair, tattoos, and muscles for days.
That’s about it. He’s naked, sure, but it’s a body with the same parts I’ve seen hundreds of times.
God’s genetic lottery winners are often the worst kind of humans.
Maxim Drake has narcissism and hotness in spades.
Ignoring him, I scoop my sister’s buddy off the floor.
He goes limp immediately, and I stifle a laugh as I tuck him against my chest to carry him to safety, in case this man plans to hurt the poor thing.
As I exit to return Peanut to my sister, a furious Maxim yells a barrage of questions.
Not paying him any mind, I round the cabin and set Peanut on the floor just inside my sister’s current playground.
She peeks over her shoulder. There’s a smudge of blood across her cheek as she locks her gaze on her little friend.
Dee makes a tiny sound that Peanut must recognize because he pops right out of his frozen opossum prison and scurries over to her.
“I found him in Maxim’s room.”
Dee hums and scoops Peanut from the floor and sets him on the dead man’s face, where she slices the tip of the guy’s nose off and rests it on his cheek for a snack.
Gross.
Not wanting to watch any more of this than I need to, I return to Maxim’s side of the cabin to shut his door.
“Ava. Just tell me what the fuck is going on,” he growls as I grab the old handle. “Please,” he adds. Something about that simple word, low and achy, pokes a soft spot in me.
Standing just outside Maxim’s room, I weigh my options.
To talk to him or not to. It doesn’t matter either way.
Not really. Sighing inwardly, I look over my shoulder at the forest and the sun filtering through the leaves.
It’s well past midday. Dee’s current project is her last kill before it gets too dark.
We can’t make our way back to the cabin safely without daylight.
The paths are too difficult to navigate after dusk, even with a headlamp.
Which means Maxim, Penelope, and Harold will be left to deal with tomorrow.
So I suppose I’ve got time to kill before we head home.
Leaving the door open, I enter the room, but keep my distance, in case this asshole gets any ideas and tries to hurt me.
I pick up the milking stool from the corner and bring it closer to Maxim so we can see each other.
He’s still standing with fists up as I sit down.
Raising an eyebrow at him, I gesture to the floor.
He huffs and, with his wary gaze locked on me, lowers himself to the ground.
Penelope, worried about her husband, yells a series of questions through the wall.
Folding my hands in my lap, I wait for him to speak, or act, or do something other than glare at me.
“I’m fine,” he snarls to his wife, clearly pissed at me, not her.
“Who’s in there with you?”
“Give me a minute.”
“No!”
“Goddammit, Penelope, give me a minute.”
“Fine!”
I smirk. I really shouldn’t, but I hate that woman at a cellular level.
She is everything I despise in this world.
Not because she’s beautiful and I’m not.
No. This has nothing to do with looks and everything to do with her.
She’s a spoiled, stuck-up bitch who hurts others for money.
I probably wouldn’t care if those she hurt were rich pieces of shit like her and her father, but that’s not the case.
She sits high on the throne her father built her, and instead of using her money and influence to help those less fortunate, which, let’s face it, is almost everyone, she kills them instead, and laughs while doing it.
It brings her pleasure, and she’s gonna die for it.
Legs out straight, back against the wall, Maxim’s jaw ticks for a beat, then two, before he finally addresses me. “You drugged us, didn’t you?”
Bingo.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
I sigh at his boring line of questioning. “Oh. Max. You know why.”
“No. I don’t.”
“Don’t play stupid. We know you’re not. You, your wife, her father, and all of his associates buy, sell, and trade humans.”
“They don’t…”
I hold up my hand to shut down his lies. “We’re not doing this. If you’re not selling people, you’re selling parts of them. Organs. Right? That’s what you specialize in, isn’t it, Maxim?”
I wait for a response.
One second, then two passes, and his breath quickens. He balls his hands into fists on his tattoo-covered thighs. Over and over again, he squeezes and releases them. The muscles in his neck tighten, and he looks like he wants to end me.
I count to sixty in my head before speaking again. “These are the consequences for your actions.” With the flick of my wrist, I gesture to this place and his current condition. The unspoken finale hangs heavy in the air between us.
“Death,” Maxim finally says.
“Yes.”
Resting his head against the wall, Maxim tips his chin up in a clear show of brass-balled arrogance. “Are you gonna do it?” he goads, a smirk lifting at the corner of his mouth.
“No.”
A wrinkle appears between his brows, as if my reply has caught him off guard. “Your team?”