Chapter 23 Knox
KNOX
“Knox. Pick up.” Papa’s voice blasts through the walkie, louder than usual.
My eyes snap open. My body—every muscle, cell, and pore—goes on high alert.
It’s morning.
Fucking morning.
Meaning I slept through the night instead of protecting Skylar.
Dust motes dance in a shaft of sunlight slanting across the basement. Soft, innocent things.
Unlike Papa’s call. I know my family; he isn’t checking up on me out of care. There’s no small talk between us, ever.
He’s testing me, trying to see whether I helped Skylar escape or if she’s using her beauty to manipulate me.
Her beauty. I scoff at that.
She’s that, and so much more.
In my arms, her eyes closed, her breathing shallow, I see her fire. Her cleverness. Her thoughtfulness. How deeply she cares about me.
As small as she is, as obedient, she owns me. Just by breathing the same air as I do, Skylar leaves me wanting, aching, hers.
I love her.
And even if she doesn’t say it, she loves me back.
She won’t be alive long enough to say it if you keep fucking up.
I curse myself inwardly again for sleeping in, for not staying up to protect her.
Staying awake was a lost cause with Skylar nuzzling the crook of my neck. With her body slung over mine, naked and used.
Resolve settles into my bones—never again.
For the next two weeks, I’ll sleep with one eye open and never more than three hours straight.
“Son?” Papa barks again.
“Dammit,” I growl.
Skylar stirs as I carefully peel her off me. I hate that. Hate that I’m stuck in this place for another two weeks. That I can’t just pack up and leave.
“Knox?” she whispers. “What’s going on?”
“Where the heck are you?” Papa’s voice rises to a shout. “Son, do I need to come down there?”
Color drains from Skylar’s face. Her eyes jump between me and the walkie.
Be quiet, I mouth, taking extra precautions in case they’re close. Stay.
Skylar, no longer drowsy, sits up on her knees.
Okay, she mouths back. Okay.
I wrap her in a blanket and signal for her to hold it tight around herself.
The blanket won’t save her if they barge in. I’m not stupid. I know protecting her is my job.
But it will give her comfort and warmth while I handle my father.
As for me, I don’t need warmth. I need to be cold and brutal. To be the predator that outsmarts the other predators.
Shirt. Jeans. I shrug them on fast.
“I’m here, Papa,” I say, climbing the stairs.
Gotta make sure no one’s sneaking in here. Ma could’ve given Jett her keys, for all I know. He never asked her before today, but now, with Papa sounding impatient, I don’t trust any of them to play by the rules.
“The sister doesn’t have much time left in her.”
“Okay, then kill her.”
Kitchen, living room, and bathroom are empty.
“We will.” There’s a smile in his voice. “Soon.”
“Bad dolly! Wake up! Wake. Up!” Reese screeches in the background, probably at Bronwyn.
“I told you, not a problem. I worked on the boyfriend yesterday. I can handle all three of them now.”
Skylar will curse me for this. For touching her sister’s skin after the others killed her.
She won’t have the closure she’s owed.
I’ll have to work twice as hard to make it up to her. Fine by me. Actually, fucking perfect.
“Oh, no.” Papa’s laugh is ominous. “You’re going to join us.”
Static.
No explanation. No demand.
He’s baiting me.
“What do you mean?” Once I’m done scanning the house, I go to the living room.
I won’t return to Skylar before he answers me. Whatever Papa’s devious plans may be for Bronwyn, Skylar won’t be hearing about it from him. She’ll hear it from me.
“Was I not clear? You’re coming too.” For the first time in years, bashing his head in doesn’t sound like such a bad idea. “You. And that shiny new toy you refuse to kill.”
My free hand curls into a fist. “I told Jett—”
“Yeah, yeah. We’ve heard about your ritual. We respect that. But…”
Static.
Can’t take it anymore. The worry gnawing at me. The fear they might’ve snuck into the basement while I was up here.
I lower the volume on the walkie and open the door. Through the crack, I see Skylar looking up at me, sitting exactly where I left her.
Mine.
Let them try to take her from me.
I fucking dare them.
“Speak, Papa.” I close the door and head over to my kitchen, out of earshot. “I’m busy over here.”
“See, Jett, Grandpa and I are getting suspicious.”
Grandpa grunts his approval in the background.
I say nothing.
“We need proof that you’re not protecting her. Or worse, keeping her. Can’t let your first living-hide be your wife. You need to kill her.”
“She isn’t ready.” I fake boredom as best I can.
“You can still hurt her.” Before I tell him over my dead body, he adds, “That’s why I’m ordering you to bring her over here. To bear witness to her sister being tortured and murdered.”
Bronwyn’s had it coming—the pain, the humiliation.
Skylar, on the other hand, deserves love. Protection.
She shouldn’t be dragged into my family’s sickness. I’m not sure she can handle it. I don’t want her to handle it.
Then again…
This might not be such a bad idea.
I think, deep down, Skylar fantasizes about hurting Bronwyn. Maybe even killing her herself.
I see it in the dark glimmer in her eyes whenever her twin’s name comes up. It’s in the way her nostrils flare, then her cheeks redden with shame over her murderous desires.
Yeah, she wants it.
True revenge, not a talk. Not closure.
She’s after Bronwyn’s blood.
I can’t give her that. But I can offer her the next best thing.
Watching my family murder her evil twin.
“Fine by me.”
“Fine? Just like that?”
“Yes, fine.” As long as none of them gets close to Skylar. “When do we start?”
“That’s my boy.” My dad’s acceptance is too little, too late. I never needed it, and now, I need it even less. “Bring her over here in an hour.”
“I still think something fucking weird is going on, I’ll tell you that.” Jett must’ve asked for the walkie, sounding disappointed that I didn’t put up a fight.
My lips twist into a snarl. “Only weird thing is you shoving your nose where it don’t belong.”
I’m about to head downstairs when my brother adds, “Give her a big meal before you two come over. I want her throwing up all over the room.”
“My living-hide, my business.” My grip on the handset tightens, knuckles bone-white. “Don’t even think about fucking with what’s mine.”