Chapter 30 #3
Before she can finish, I pull my newly sharpened machete from my belt and swing it upward toward her throat.
A thin red line appears under her chin; then a torrent of blood pours to the ground.
A soft gurgle escapes her lips, and she falls to her knees with saucer-sized eyes.
The fire in my belly is replaced by a warm, satisfied glow. I allow myself to smile.
My eyes flash toward Keisha. A deep disappointment pulls at her expression. Surely she agrees it had to be done. Marcy knew. I had to do it. But there’s no time to try to justify it.
Suzanne screams, clutching her medallion. Behind me dishes clatter, and Steven or Grady shouts behind us asking what happened. I’m not sure who, because I can’t turn around. I have to shut Suzanne up. She’s cowering on her knees, her necklace in both hands, muttering a prayer between screams.
I swing my machete and make contact with her neck. She doesn’t fight, doesn’t even try to escape. Pathetic. How did she even survive this long? When she tumbles sideways, I spin around toward Steven and Grady.
Steven falls to his knees at Marcy’s side, confused, not even registering yet that the real danger is me.
Behind Steven, Grady stumbles toward the chaos.
I can’t take them both at the same time.
Dammit. I didn’t have time to think this through.
My heart pounds as I look for a plan of attack, trying to decide who to swing at first. Steven is distracted by Marcy, and Grady is still a few steps away.
And I need to protect Keisha. My head swims. I shuffle my feet to move toward Steven, then change my mind and turn my body toward Grady, but Keisha’s panicked voice pulls me up short.
“Help! Help me, please! She’s gone crazy!” Keisha cries out, running away from me.
Her words stop me cold, and my stomach sinks as betrayal rips my skin into flames, but Grady’s focused on her now, giving me the window I need.
Steven watches Keisha too, trying to make sense of her accusation.
I swing at him before he sees me coming.
He touches his throat, looking at the wet red stain on his fingertips with disbelief.
He pulls his shirt up, trying to stanch the bleeding, but in seconds it’s soaked through and he’s looking pale. He falls to the side, on top of Marcy.
“Grady, do something!” Keisha shouts, ducking behind him. Doubt pulls at me. She has to be acting. Please be acting.
Grady pulls out his wicked-looking knife and pushes Keisha behind him.
It’s the knife he used as he taught me how to sharpen mine.
I know exactly how sharp that knife is. I square up, taking my machete in both hands.
How the hell am I going to fight a grown man?
I start to wonder if I’m in over my head.
Grady stands in front of Keisha protectively, and my anger flares again, hotter than ever. Please be acting. I take a step toward Grady.
“Now listen, sweetheart, you can take whatever you want. You don’t have to kill us.
Just take what you want and go,” Grady says, holding his hands in the air in surrender.
Slowly, he puts his knife on the ground, then takes a step back, giving up the only weapon he had.
Pathetic. He’s not even going to fight me.
A smirk grows on my lips. His eyes search mine, and in that moment, he realizes his mistake. As if he’s seeing me for the first time, true, animalistic terror distorts his expression.
From behind Grady, Keisha’s eyes lock onto mine. It’s just a flash of an expression. Only one fraction of a second, but it’s enough. For just a moment, I see her mask slip. Panic and fear are written all over her face, and that’s when I know. She wasn’t acting.
Memories of the last several weeks flash before my eyes, playing in my mind like a movie.
A hundred tiny doubts and gut feelings ignored.
A thousand red flags overlooked. I trusted her, and she’s been using me, manipulating me.
Every brush of her hand, every warm smile, that fucking kiss.
She wanted my protection, not me. She thought my infatuation with her would keep her alive.
I knew her past. I watched her do this to the men at the gas station and to Ramsey. Why couldn’t I see it when it was happening to me? How could I have been such an idiot?
The puzzle pieces click into place. I can see it now.
Dammit, she’s so good at this. After she tried and failed to align herself with Ramsey, she was like a new person.
She became exactly who I needed her to be.
A plotting, calculating, cold-hearted villain ready to take over the farm.
I forgot about the indiscretion with Ramsey the second she suggested we go to the farm.
She’s brilliant. And now it’s game over.
I wait with my machete aimed at Grady’s chest. Keisha’s expression steels, and I watch as she effortlessly slips back into character. She whimpers softly behind Grady.
“Stay behind me, sweetheart. I’ve got—”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. He crashes to his knees, then tips forward, facedown. The hilt of Keisha’s hunting knife glistens with dark red blood, wedged into the base of his skull.
Behind him, Keisha heaves, and her dinner pools at her feet.