Chapter 11 Knox
KNOX
“Would you look at that?” A slow smile spreads across Grandpa’s lips, his hand lashing around the back of Skylar’s neck. “Finally taking your rightful place. Becoming a true part of this family.”
Disgust curls in my chest at the pride in his voice. I won’t ever kill her. Won’t ever treat her like she’s just another living-hide.
I hate how it’s the only way to ensure both she and my family stay alive.
I hate myself more when I look at Skylar. Wide-eyed and frozen, she stares at me like I’ve gutted her. Like our time in the guest room meant nothing to me.
Like I can’t wait to get rid of her corpse.
Which—never. I’m going to hang her in my basement. Worship her.
Keep her alive.
Dismissing his praise, I step closer. “Give her to me.”
“Motherfucker,” Skylar growls once the shock fades, her feet kicking dirt as she tries to launch herself at me. “I hate you.”
Her words don’t touch me. First, since I’ve established that I hate myself enough for both of us.
And…she won’t be angry once she learns the truth.
She’ll see that I’ve been protecting her since the day she bought the tickets to our museum.
Later.
After Grandpa gets his hands off what’s mine.
“Are you sure you can handle this one?” There’s a challenge threaded through his voice.
“Yes. Now,” I demand, my gaze trained on her.
I can’t look anywhere else but her tear-stained cheeks, her puffy lips. The fire in her eyes.
“See, I really don’t know about that, and—” Grandpa starts.
I wrap my hand around her arm, repeating, “Now.”
“She needs to learn.” Before I can warn him that he doesn’t get to teach her a goddamn thing, he shakes her. “Like this. Watch your mouth when you talk to my grandson, you hear?”
He’s hurting her.
Fury blooms, hot and blinding.
The world narrows to a single, pulsing red.
My free hand snaps like an iron shackle around his wrist. “I said now.”
Skylar thrashes, screaming, “Leave me alone!”
“See?” Grandpa huffs a derisive laugh when she slams her fist backward, hitting his gut. “You haven’t disciplined her for shit.”
“Enough of that.” One sharp twist of my wrist, and Grandpa’s grip breaks off the back of her neck. Taking his place, I curl my fingers around the nape of her neck, dragging her over to me. “Mine.”
Her hair is soft, her pulse raging beneath my fingertips.
He won’t get to touch her ever again.
“No, leave me alone!” Watching her fight against my hold is dangerous. It sends me back to the farmhouse, to the way she fought me. I’m just as hard as I was there. “I was already free. Let me go, you monster.”
Grandpa’s eyebrow quirks as he waits for me to put her in her place.
The tension in the air rises.
Time to do something drastic.
I’ll make it up to her later. With my dick and enough orgasms, she’ll forget she was ever angry with me.
Maybe I’ll even come up with something nice to say.
“This way.” I don’t wait, hauling her to my home.
“Atta boy.” Grandpa squeezes my shoulder as I brush past him.
He can ‘atta boy’ Jett or whoever the fuck.
My world revolves around one thing, and it’s Skylar.
My hellion, she’s clawing at my hand, her nails breaking skin. Her beautiful mouth spews I hate you on repeat.
All her fight does is make me want to put her on her knees.
We’re almost at my place when the farmhouse door bursts open.
“Heeelp!” Bronwyn bolts out, her long hair whipping around her, gray nightgown plastered to her front. “Heeelp!”
“Bronwyn,” Skylar calls out, and I could kill someone.
Why does she care about her? The bitch wants her dead.
“Let them deal with her.” White-hot rage floods my veins. If we don’t go into the basement right this second, I’m risking her life. I’ll likely crush Skylar’s neck. “Home.”
I pull her another inch when Bronwyn stumbles on one of Reese’s factory-made dolls. There’s always one lying around out here, between our homes. My baby sister laughs hysterically when she’s out here with a magnifying glass, waiting for the sun to hit her toys at just the right angle.
“I’m scared,” Skylar whispers, her gaze locked on her barefoot sister who struggles to hold herself upright a moment before she’s back to running, slower now. “Please, I don’t want to be next.”
Just when I think I’m starting to make sense of Skylar’s mumbling, Jett appears at the front door. My brother has an axe in his hand, his cocky grin fixed on his face.
Papa’s shadow is right behind him.
Skylar doesn’t notice them. Because even though she was scared for her life, she’s hypnotized by Bronwyn.
Completely ignoring Skylar, the selfish, murderous woman screams, “Help,” again, hoping for someone to come save her.
While leaving Skylar to die here.
My pulse pounds so powerfully it’s a miracle the ground doesn’t shake with it. Only reason I’m able to breathe through it is knowing that Skylar will leave this place unharmed, at my side.
Her evil twin, she doesn’t stand a chance.
See, Jett might come off as rowdy or fueled by senseless violence. No one but us knows what a dedicated, ruthless psycho he is.
By the time he turned fifteen, his axe was basically an extension of his arm.
He aims and hits his prey, going straight for the nerves. His victims never bleed too badly. The skin is only mildly harmed, something Papa allows.
Most importantly, they never die on the spot.
They simply fall to the floor when he injures their spines. When he turns them into breathing ragdolls.
Bronwyn is just the last in a long line of what he calls droppers.
Jett aims and throws the axe. Once it hits its mark, Bronwyn collapses face-first to the ground, her scream dying on her lips.
Warmth and righteousness flood me from head to toe. I can’t look away from the satisfying sight.
“Well done, Jetty!” Grandpa claps his hands. “Well done!”
When Jett calls out, “You’re up next, Hide-boy,” it hits me how exposed we are.
My focus snaps back to Skylar, who stands there with her mouth open and her chin trembling.
Gotta get her out of here.
“Let’s go.” One hand over her waist, the other remaining around her neck, and we’re off.
I force her to my home. Away from them.
“Knox, stop. Stop.” She finds her voice now that we’re moving, though she sounds choked. “They’ll come here at night. They’ll take me next. Don’t do this to me.”
She’s wrong. Dead wrong.
They’re proud of me for handling her. Plus, they’ll be focused on someone else.
One glance over my shoulder, and I see Jett and Grandpa over there, careful as they pick Bronwyn up by her feet and shoulders.
To an outsider, they might seem like they’re being careful with her. As if they regret what they’d done.
To a Colbert, the truth behind their gentle touch is brutally obvious.
They can’t go rough on her, or she’ll die too fast.
Dead bodies don’t cry or beg. There’s no fun in torturing a corpse.
That’s how I know they’ll stay there to handle her and Easton.
Even so, I’ll be vigilant. Watch over Skylar. Won’t let her out of my sight.
“Knox.” Skylar plants her heels in the ground, temporarily stopping us. Her hands go to my arm, and dammit, these feelings she wakes within me. I listen. “Just—just hear me out. Knox. Please.”
Desire burns through me. My chest is tight.
Every cell in my body is drawn to her.
I can’t be nice. Not even a little. Not out here.
“Stop saying my name.” I let go of her neck. Wind my fist in her hair that smells so goddamn nice and tilt her face up.
Our gazes clash.
“Don’t—” Her teeth chatter. “Can’t you see I’m next? Why won’t you do something like take me away from here? Or let me escape? We shared a moment back there, Knox. I mean something to you.”
“Listen to me.” I give her head a sharp shake, ordering her to focus as I murmur, “If I’m nice to you, they’ll come over here. You need to shut the hell up.”
Don’t let them, she mouths. Please.
In the background, I hear Grandpa groan as his boots scuffle against the ground.
“You need help there, Knox?” Jett hollers out to me, turning my blood molten with rage. “Want me to paralyze this one for you too?”
“No. No. Let me go.” The fear twisting her features is beautiful.
It’s the kind of beauty that changes a man.
I’m starving, fantasizing.
Aching.
I want her to look at me the same way when she’s on her back, legs spread, her skin prickling with terror.
When I show her just how mine she is.
“All good!” I shout, then whisper to her, “Keep defying me…” I tug on her hair. Her pained cry goes straight to my cock. “And I might tell him I’ve changed my mind. That I do need help.”
Never.
“No.”
“I would if you don’t start behaving.” I yank her hair harder than I need to, taking her home.
“No!” she screams as we cross the threshold.
With my foot, I slam the door shut behind me as I stare her down. My erection pulses from watching creases form on her brow. The trembling of her lips.
It’s fucking hot when her nails dig into the hand I’ve got clamped on her waist. When she says, “Stop!”
She bolts the second I shift my grip. Doesn’t make it an inch before I throw my woman over my shoulder.
Finally, I get to treat her how she deserves. Get to rub the backs of her thighs like she’s mine.
“Where are you taking me?” Skylar’s tears soak through my shirt. Her fists hammer my back again and again. “What is this place even?”
“I told you, Trouble.” The basement door closes with a final click. “We’re home.”