5. Rory
Chapter 5
Rory
Almost Four Months Earlier
“I have a surprise for you, sister dear.”
I jerk up at King’s dark voice.
One week.
I’ve been here an entire week since watching Noah die. A week in which the pain doesn’t get better. It just seems to get worse.
I loved him.
It didn’t matter he was an asshole who hurt me. It didn’t change the fact that I loved him.
I loved him. My brother killed him.
Seven words that I just keep repeating over and over. They’re a broken refrain that have seared into my brain with such force my body feels as if it weighs a million pounds.
“King—”
“Now your purpose begins,” he says and my heart batters against my chest so hard it feels like it might break free. That’s because behind him I can see Ryan. My brother’s goon, Sanchez, has Ryan, his big, meaty hand three times the size of Ryan’s shoulder, is clamped down tightly on the little boy. The grip is obviously painful, because poor Ryan's head is at an odd angle and he’s doing his best not to move.
He’s crying.
There are tears running down his face. He’s crying silently, but the sobs are moving through his body. I scramble off the bed, getting the first energy I’ve had in days.
“Ryan,” I gasp, I lurch towards him, but King grabs me—not letting me get close. His hand wraps tight around my neck, the force of it bruising. He squeezes even tighter, causing me to gasp as I try and drag air into my lungs. He leans in, his face so close that I can feel his breath against my ear.
“Remember what I told you, Rory?” he asks, his voice deadly soft.
I try to nod. I can’t really with the hold he has on me, but I manage enough movement that he knows I say yes.
“Make sure you stick to your side of the deal, Sis, ” he growls. He uses his hold on me to practically toss me back on the bed. I fall, but not far enough on the mattress. Instead I slam against the foot of the bed, too out of control to stop myself from crumbling against the floor. I look up as my ass slams onto the hard tile of the floor. Sanchez does something similar to poor Ryan and he falls into my body. I absorb his fall, my arms immediately going around him, holding him to me.
He doesn’t speak. I think he’s afraid to. I kiss the top of his head, never taking my eyes off of King.
“It’ll be okay now, Ryan. It’ll be okay,” I whisper to him as quietly as I can, my gaze locked onto King’s.
“It will if you remember our deal, Rory,” King warns.
“I… I want my dad!” Ryan dares to cry, his voice hoarse and cracking from his tears.
“I am your father, Ryan. You better get used to that now,” he says, his smile looking so sinister my stomach turns.
I think I was wrong before. Our father didn’t turn King into him… King is much worse than our father ever was.