Chapter Forty Six
Maggie
I wait for Bridgette’s response, which takes a little longer than the others. When it finally comes through, I’m not ashamed to admit I grab it a little eagerly. We’re finally together, she is mine and I’m hers but yet I’m still fucking giddy. Like a schoolyard crush, just seeing her name on my phone gives me butterflies.
Bridgette: help isfnpdsvzosbvpxm
I frown at that as I respond.
Me: What?
She doesn’t respond and after thirty seconds, I send another.
Me: Pocket text? Please tell me it is. You’re scaring me.
I stand there staring at my phone, willing it to ping with a new text, but it doesn’t. Panic begins to fill me as I overhear some guys talking.
“Do you think we should tell someone? She clearly didn’t want to go with him. She was screaming mad loud, bro,” one of the guys says.
“Fuck that dude. Family shit means stay out of it. If her dad wants to drag her screaming and yelling, he has the right.”
“Who are you talking about?” I butt in, stopping them in their tracks.
They look at me hesitantly, like they are put off that I was listening to their conversation. Free country, bro. Communal space. Get over it.
“Bridgette Brenton. Her dad just picked her up. She was fighting his driver pretty hard.”
My stomach drops to the floor as fear clutches my chest.
“Where did they go? WHERE!”
The one guy holds his hands up and shakes his head.
“I don’t know. On the road. Off campus. Why?”
I shake my head as I turn away from the fucking idiots who sat idly by, while a girl was clearly taken against her will. Pulling up Bridgette’s location, I wait and wait and wait before…nothing. Why can’t I track her location?
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I mutter under my breath, my head spinning through all the possibilities of where he would take her.
I mean, is his house too obvious? It’s the one place in the world no one will come barging in at any given moment. It’s his property to do with what he wants, so I start there. Taking off running, I head for my car, thankful I have my keys on me, before unlocking and jumping inside. I fire it up immediately, peeling out of the parking lot in the next second.
The drive to Harry’s house is a quick one, but it feels like it’s taking hours. My mind can’t help but loop through worst case scenarios, but I can’t put stock into those. I just need to find her. I haven’t figured out what part two of my plan is. I’m operating under one thing at a time.
When I finally pull up to the house, I practically drive my car up the front stairs, parking it unevenly before sprinting inside. The son of a bitch is either dumb enough to leave his house unlocked, or arrogant enough not to lock it when he got back. Either way, the front door gives in easily for me as I step into the house. I begin scouring every room for them when I hear a muffled shout come from his study.
Oh fuck.
Sprinting to the ominous room, I throw it open, my eyes widening in horror as I walk in on a living nightmare.
Bridgette’s skirt is lifted up, the top half of her body bent over the desk, Harry’s hand pressing her head into the desk. His pants are around his ankles, his bare ass thrusting in and out of her. Pained cries erupt from her as her body heaves. I’m so horror stricken I forget how to move for a moment.
“You like it. Stop fighting it. Daddy’s little fucking whore.” Harry laughs. “Never forget who this pussy belongs to. This is my fucking pussy.”
His words shake something loose in me, and I turn feral. A scream rips through me as both their heads whip over to see me. I jump on Harry, punching and hitting him. Anything I can to get him off her. He seems to care more about fucking his daughter than fighting me off, because he gives me a half-hearted shove, the force of it hard enough that it sends me flying. I smash into the wall, hitting my head, as I see stars.
“NOO!” Bridgette screams, attempting to buck and wiggle her way out from under him.
He doesn’t relent, fucking her harder and more aggressively. I blink away the haziness, stumbling to my feet as Harry snarls at me.
“Don’t worry, Margret. You’re next.”
My eyes flick around the room for something, anything I can use before something silver catches my eye. I don’t even process what I’m fully doing until I’m doing it. One moment, Harry’s letter opener is on his desk, the next, it’s in my hand and plunged into his back.
He roars an animalistic sound as his spine arches. The piece of fucking shit still has his worthless cock in Bridgette, though, so I push him away, taking advantage of his moment of weakness before driving it into his back. Again and again I do it until I hit a spot that causes him to suck in a wet, crackling breath. He looks at me, no doubt filled with adrenaline, as he attempts to lunge for me. I swing out, embedding the letter opener into the top of his head. It didn’t go very deep, but I felt the blade sink into his skull. Clearly, it was deep enough, though.
With wide eyes, he stumbles backwards, his back slamming into the bookshelf behind him as he slides down to his ass before laying on his side. Blood is seeping out of his back, creating a small pool around him as a thick stream runs down his face. His breath sounds choppy and wet, his eyes unfocused as he’s clearly in shock. So am I.
With shaky hands, I drop the knife, turning to see Bridgette is still slumped over the desk, her skirt lifted up to her hips, tears pouring down her face. Something in me breaks inside, seeing her like this, and I know I’ll never be the same. Neither of us will.
A small amount of blood is smeared between her thighs, and I quickly pull down her skirt before pulling her off the desk. She falls apart into a fit of sobs, clinging to me desperately as I hold her as tight as possible. We slide down to the floor together, and I don’t realize I’m crying too, until she speaks.
“M-maggie. Y-you came for me.”
I lean back, palming the back of her head in my hand as I nod.
“I will always come for you, baby B. Always.”
I feel hot tears run down my face as Harry releases another tortured groan from the other side of the room. Bridgette and I both tense, looking over to see him still unmoving. Shakily, I grab my phone from my pocket, hitting call. The phone rings a few times before a giggle answers the phone.
“Hey, Mags. Now isn’t a good time. Liam and Asher were just about to?—”
“S-sky,” I stutter.
Her playful tone dies in an instant, her voice becoming eerily monotone.
“What’s wrong?”
“I think I…I might of kille-ed Harry Brenton, or he-he’s gonna die. I d-don’t kno-w,” I say, my voice shaking with practically every word as the reality of our situation begins to consume me.
“Where are you?” she asks, the sound of her walking echoing in the background.
“His house,” I breathe out.
“Be there in two,” she says, hanging up the phone as she does.
I set my phone down, my eyes staying on a barely breathing Harry Brenton. I don’t look away for several seconds, before Bridgette shuffles in my arms. Glancing down at her, I notice that her lip is split, and she has a blackening eye. Carefully, my thumb reaches out, tracing the areas. She winces at the contact and my stomach turns.
My heart was absolutely broken when Bridgette opened up to Brad and me. To imagine what my sweet girl had endured and lived through for years was unbearable. Witnessing it? Walking in on it? For those few seconds, where I stood there unmoving as he broke her, hurt her, violently raped her and I did nothing. I…those mental images and sounds will be forever burned into my brain.
“I’m so sorry, B. I’m so sorry,” I begin to sob once more.
She shakes her head. “You saved me. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I promised you. I failed you. I?—”
Her hand covers my mouth as she shakes her head, resting our foreheads together as a tear trails down her face.
“You saved me,” she gasps on a broken cry.
We stay like that for I don’t know how long before Skyla’s voice calls out through the house.
“Maggie! Maggie, where are you?”
‘H-here! In here,” I call out.
Several pairs of footsteps echo through the house before Vincent is the first to step in, gun drawn. He points it at us for a moment before shifting his stance to Harry. Wesley and Ronan are behind him, followed by Asher, then Liam and Skyla. Liam ushers Skyla around the body, walking over to us, while the rest approach Harry.
Liam crouches down, and Bridgette tenses, backing up slowly. I put myself between them as he quickly throws up his hands in surrender.
“Hey, it’s okay. Take a breath. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”
Bridgette’s lip trembles as she gives him a shaky nod. Skyla bends down to me, looking me over.
“Are you okay, Mags?’
I nod my head shakily and her eyebrows knit together like she doesn’t believe me.
I wouldn’t believe me either. I think I’m in shock. That’s why I can’t stop shaking, why I feel so cold. I just can’t…think.
“Bridgette, are you okay?” Skyla asks.
B doesn’t speak for a moment before she just shakes her head.
“She’s bleeding,” I say. “She needs to be looked over by a doctor. A female one,” I clarify.
Skyla’s eyes trace over Bridgette before landing on her blood smeared thighs. A look of horror and pain fills her face before anger takes over.
“Asher,” she says stiffly.
“Yeah, princess?” he asks.
“Call the doctor, the one I like. Have her meet us at the house immediately.”
“You got it,” he says, pausing as he looks between Bridgette and me.
He frowns as he pauses on her, looking back to Harry before shaking his head bitterly as he makes a call.
“Is he alive?” Bridgette asks.
“Only just,” Wesley says.
“Won’t be long now,” Ronan agrees.
Vincent grabs the letter opener, examining it with detached interest before facing us.
“Anyone care to do the honors?”
Surprising everyone in the room, Bridgette stands up, shakily moving towards them. Vincent’s eyebrows lift in intrigue as he offers the silver weapon to her. She takes it, her hand shaking. She’s already been through so much; this will no doubt just add to her trauma. But I don’t intervene, because I know a piece of her needs this.
She gets down on her knees, sitting just beside him as she speaks to him, her tone filled with so much contempt, so much venom that it sends a shock of chills running through me.
“I hope you burn .”
In the next moment, Bridgette sinks the letter opener into Harry’s neck, plunging it deeply before yanking it quickly to the right. Blood sprays like a geyser, making an audible splat sound just as Harry’s breathing stops.
Bridgette sits there, her chest heaving, hands and face covered in blood like a conquering warrior. I move across the room to her, gently resting my hand on her shoulder so she knows it’s just me. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t look away from the mangled mess that is…or was, her father’s neck.
Wesley and Ronan share pinched looks, while Vincent just looks impressed.
“C’mon, we’ll take you back to our place.” Skyla offers to both of us.
Asher walks in with an arm full of plastic wrap, his eyes taking in the blood splatter.
“You guys couldn’t have made clean up a little easier?” he grumbles.
“Vengeance is messy business,” Vincent says, his eyes on Bridgette.
She looks up at him, nodding shakily before letting me help her stand.
“We’ll take care of things here. Go get checked out,” Ronan says to us, as he and Wesley begin lifting Harry’s body.
Liam and Skyla lead the way to their car, helping us inside before getting in the front.
“Why aren’t you staying behind, Walcott?” I ask.
He scrunches up his face. “I don’t care for blood. Kinda squeamish.”
I let out a humorless laugh at that, even if it is kinda funny. Everyone knows members of the Brethren, Legacies and Elders specifically, have to get their hands bloody from time to time, if not often. Of course, this dopey golden retriever would want nothing to do with it, though. Sky really does have one of each kind of boyfriend. Excuse me, husband.
As we drive down the road, I feel Bridgette begin to fade, her head tucked into my neck, arms wrapped around me as her body effectively shuts down and lets her rest in peace.