FAE #2
Longstaff’s blue eyes collide with mine as he looks at me. I know what he’s going to say before he even speaks. Fiona covers her mouth as she follows his line of sight.
“We hadn’t tried female founders,” his gaze burns into me as he takes a slow step forward.
“Of course we had higher bloodlines. Council members often sent their children as Swallows, but you, Fae…” he shakes his head.
“You have no idea just how pure your bloodline truly is. Your dad would have been a problem, but he came around when he realised you were spoiled goods.”
I hiss out a breath as visions of me being raped and assaulted by Fisher in my father’s crypt hit me.
Is this why Fisher did what he did? Was he so obsessed with trying to find out my genetic make-up he had to find a reason for my father to desert me?
No. My father deserted me long before that.
Longstaff’s silhouette blurs as the tears I was holding on to fall from my eyes, leaving burning tracks across my skin as I realise I was cherry-picked for this.
“Tell me, Fisher’s baby… did he finally get a boy?”
“How do you know it’s his?” Fiona hisses, pulling us back a step.
Longstaff flashes a cruel smile, “Ah, I know everything… it was very fun hacking the hospital database and seeing those scans. It kept me going for a while there.”
“Stop,” I demand, shaking my head. “What about Robyn? Why would her own dad have her enter this?”
“Ah, well, that was genius on his part. You see, I couldn’t for the life of me produce girls, but Fisher…” he smiles thinly, “he could only have them. What better way to get multiple heirs than by raising your grandsons as your own?”
“You mean…” My face blanches in horror. “You mean to tell me that he took his daughters in the hope that men raped boys into them?”
“Yes,” he replies with a shrug.
“You bastard!” Fiona screams. “You didn’t do this for me! I would never have accepted it. It’s why you kept it from me for all these years.”
Fiona’s face crumples as she lets out a wail and I shiver at the sound.
She sounds like something wounded, something primal, the kind of grief that has sat buried for years and only now has found a way out.
It tears through the church; bouncing off stone, stained glass and old wood, and all I can think as I stare at him is that he still looks at her like he’s the victim here. Like he did all of this out of love.
This motherfucker.
“Enough,” I bark.
I step in front of Fiona, putting my body between hers and his as my shoulders square. The tears burning my eyes stop as my voice goes from shaky to steady. He gave us our answers, it’s time to do what we came here to do.
“You make me sick,” I hiss as I take another small step forward.
Longstaff looks amused. His eyes slide over me, taking in the set of my jaw.
“What a shame,” he shrugs.
I grit my teeth as I look around the church one final time before stepping forward quickly.
If I can get to him, I can disarm him and end this for good.
Before I even get close enough, he lifts the gun and tuts.
I freeze like I have hit a brick wall and my eyes fly to the metal in his grip.
My hands hover uselessly at my sides as the church disappears around me.
Fiona disappears. Even Longstaff’s face blurs at the edges.
All I know is that there’s a gun pointed at my baby and I cannot move without risking everything.
“Ah, ah, ah.”
A smile touches his mouth as he steadies his aim without moving any closer.
The gun stays trained on me and the distance between us does nothing to lessen the threat.
My hands twitch at my sides as my body screams at me to protect, to move, to do something.
Fiona says my name somewhere behind me, but it barely reaches me.
“You didn’t really think I was going to let you walk out of here, did you?” he asks quietly. “You’ve been very useful, Fae. More useful than you even understand.”
I swallow against the sickness climbing up my throat as each thud of my pulse ricochets through my ribs and my hands slowly curl into fists.
“Go to hell,” I whisper.
His smile widens, but there’s no warmth in it. Only satisfaction. Only that same rotten certainty he’s carried since we got here.
“You’re not carrying my heir now, Fae.”
Behind me, Fiona lets out a broken sound. “Bradley, don’t—”
He doesn’t even look at her. His gaze stays on me as it scorches my skin but I don’t dare move.
The smallest shift could end it. Even breathing feels like too much.
I’ve never felt this trapped in my life.
Not in the warehouse. Not in the crypt. Not with Fisher.
Because this time it isn’t just me standing here.
This time someone I love sits in the line of that gun.
My baby.
I hear Fiona move before I see her, the rustle of fabric, the scrape of her shoe against stone, and Longstaff’s arm tightens.
“Don’t you dare move,” he hisses whilst still looking at me. “She is not carrying your grandchild, Fiona. It’s done. Do you hear me? DONE!”
“Please,” she chokes out as I stay frozen like a statue. “Please, Bradley, don’t do this. Not this.”
His eyes stay fixed on mine.
“It should have worked,” he says, almost to himself, as his face twists with an ugly and furious glare.
“Everything we did, everything Fisher and I did, it should have worked.”
My pulse shatters as Fiona screams my name.
There’s a deafening crack as the gun blasts through the church and I scream as my body jolts against the hard marble floor.
Pain explodes through me as my ears start to ring.
It feels like the gun is going off repeatedly as my head throbs and I try to get my bearings.
I gently touch my stomach as I start to feel the telltale sign of blood and a sob bursts out of me.
At least we die together.