Chapter 40
Chapter forty
Jackson
Possession is a full, heart-pounding, driven emotion. One where I can’t focus on anything but the girl who’s changed my whole brain chemistry. The girl I kidnapped and fucked. The one I killed for and will, for always, kill again. Because no one can hurt her but me.
I am the devil, so sweetly packaged. A beast of a man who doesn’t want to break her but always finds a way too. Undeserving. But it doesn’t matter. She’s mine. Her presence wraps around my heart and poisons my brain. I follow the aura of her fear, going eighty miles per hour on this winding road.
There is no question where she is. I already know. My brother is exactly where Gateley’s cameras showed me. My family’s old property. It’s just a matter of getting there before I have to bury Madelyn’s corpse beside my parents’ bones.
The bones my brother dug up and put on display. I have not forgotten them. I miss my mother every single fucking day. It’s just that Madelyn derailed my destiny a little off course. She made me forget the pain.
I’ve been waiting to get my revenge. The revenge my brother so nicely cut short so many years ago.
It’s as if my life is on repeat, a perfect use of karma.
I had driven this same path as soon as I had gotten a whiff of my brother’s plans, but it was too late.
By the time I pulled into the drive, the bastard had already called the cops claiming I killed them.
My fingers clench the wheel, causing my knuckles to go white and the remaining thorns in my fingers to bury themselves even deeper.
There was nothing you could do. He had you trapped before you even had a chance.
I shake my head to clear the piss-poor excuse my head conjures up. Losing them was my biggest failure.
Night has fallen fast, causing me to turn on the high beams. The yellow light reflects on the guardrails as I speed through another curve.
I am still high up the mountain and should, in theory, be going a lot slower.
With each twist of the road, the brakes complain, and I take another risk of flying off the mountain.
But with no risk comes no reward, and I’m not a quitter.
I continue on for another two miles, looking for the familiar metal cross somebody had set up alongside the road. A stark reminder of the place their loved one passed and an ode to the person whose life ended. But tonight, it will serve as a parking space and as a tool.
The car coasts down another hill, and that’s when I see it.
The metal shines in the headlights, a faint glow.
I am here, brother. I park the car, kill the engine, and turn off the lights.
Before grabbing my gun, I tuck the old man’s fishing wire and note into my pocket.
Heat and hatred rush through me, making it hard to breathe.
Make no mistake, this is exactly what I want.
To feel so strongly, to hate so fucking much, that these kills will give me a whole different type of climax.
My feet hit the ground, and I lean back to shut the door.
The tension has been building, growing, encasing my soul for years.
It has been clawing at my heart too, causing aches so vile, the only way to counteract it was to embrace the pain.
To lose myself. To not give a fuck about anything.
To kill because the world already considered me a monster.
I walk toward the cross and snatch it up out of the ground.
Dirt goes flying and hits the top of my shoes.
I take off running toward the house. Sweat forms on my brow, the saltiness stinging my eyes as it falls.
My body moves through the trees as my eyes scan my surroundings for trouble.
Finding none, I reach the treeline with little effort.
This is not surprising. My brother has never kept people around for long.
There’s too much at stake to let people stay alive.
And too many dumb motherfuckers in the world to do the job right.
My eyes scan for cameras, finding two on the front side of the house. The house itself is run-down, with white shingles covered in mildew and dead vines. There’s only one story, with most of the windows boarded up and the roof looks like it may cave in at any moment. All the more reason to hurry.
I creep along, making sure I stay out of the line of the lens.
The cold is closing in, and with it, fog.
It begins at the trees, slowly drifting through the grass and weeds before making it to me.
There are no cameras on the side of the house, but there are two big windows that have been boarded up.
Madelyn is in there; I can sense her and her fear.
I am happy she is afraid. That means she’s still alive.
Breaking the wood apart could be a way to get to her, but not the right one.
I can’t finish the job running away with her.
Instead, I move on and keep my original plan.
Close to the gutters, a red light glows against the back of the house.
One camera waits for me, but so does something else.
The electrical meter. Placing both hands on the side of the meter, I pull.
It gives way, taking the wires with it. Sparks fly as it drops to the ground.
The red glow disappears, signaling I was successful at cutting the power.
Wasting no time, I run. But this time, I don’t allow the past to weigh me down. I let Madelyn guide me, as well as my desire to burn this place to the ground.
I get to the porch and walk toward the door as if it belongs to me. Every second that passes without her feels like a sin someone needs to bleed for. My fists flex. My grin twitches. I can hear my heartbeat loud and even, like a countdown.
I don’t knock. Don’t speak. I just raise my leg and the door cracks wide-open under the weight of my boot, flying off its hinges, like it had been waiting for me.
Splinters dance though the air as I step through the wreckage, gripping the gun.
I am calm and deliberate, head tilting slightly, as I take in the space.
Candlelight flickers against the dark in the room ahead of me.
The smell of decay hits my nostrils and only gets stronger the longer I stand here.
To the right, I know that’s where Madelyn is and most likely my brother.
To my surprise, no one is shooting. All is quiet.
But I am no fucking fool. I remember every nook of this place.
Not only from the past but also because Gateley’s cameras confirmed my brother hasn’t changed a damn thing aside from the room he has placed his victims in.
He can’t hide, which means he purposely is not.
The light calls me, as I know that is where my parents lie.
I want to see them. Bury them and say a last goodbye.
The one I was not allowed upon their death.
My brother buried them like some kind of a mourning hero while I was locked up.
I know in my heart; I need closure and not just the murder of my twin to heal.
The old man’s silhouette catches my eye at the same time Madelyn’s voice cries out, “Jackson! He’s in here!
” A warning and confirmation from my girl.
That’s all I need. My hands grip the sign as I raise it and rush through the opening of the lighted room in front of me.
The old man is there; gun pointed toward my right leg.
I don’t speak. I just watch him breathe. He hurt her. Touched her. Put bruises where only I should ever leave marks-and not like that. Not like he did; ripping skin away from her beautiful body. I don’t give a fuck what he has to say. I just want him dead.
I charge at him without another thought. He shoots, and the bullet lodges itself into the sign I’m holding. Which is exactly what I intended. That and using it to bash his fucking head in. “I regret nothing,” he says, as if knowing he will soon meet his end.
“You will,” I growl, while my body collides with his.
We both go down, with him hitting the ground and me straddling his waist. The sign slides out of my reach from the crash, so I use the next best thing-my hands.
My fists hit his face, below the mouth, the impact spraying red from his lips.
The old man buckles against me and reaches up, gripping my shirt.
It’s almost shameful to take down such a weak piece of shit.
But knowing he sank that hook into her flesh…and ripped it apart. Well, that’s enough for anyone to experience a painful end. And a little bit of karma.
Using one hand, I place my fingers around his throat and squeeze. My body barely moves as the old man’s legs kick from beneath. My other hand fishes in my pocket to find the fishing wire that was left behind. “Your first mistake was trusting my brother,” I say, not letting up on the pressure.
The wire intertwines with my fingers as I pull it out of my pocket.
His hands punch me at the same time his eyes make contact with my free hand.
Words came out of his mouth in a jumbled mess, with none of them recognizable.
A reddish-purple hue slowly spreads across his cheeks as the obvious struggle for air continues.
A vein pops out across his forehead; the image will stay etched in my mind until I can release it later across a new canvas.
My hand releases his throat just enough to allow him a gasp of air before I snatch him by the collar of his shirt. My arm pulls his head away from the floor just enough to give me the space I need. “Demented fuck,” he gargles, still not comprehending my next steps.
I smile, the jester completely genuine. I am happy. Happy this asshole is fixing to die. “We both are,” I whisper. “But, you want to know the difference between me and you?”
I leap off him, spinning his body in the process.
With his face inches away from the floor, I raise the wire just above his head.
“I’m the fucking winner this time.” The wire slides down and finds his throat in one smooth glide.
My hold tightens quickly around his neck so that the old bastard doesn’t have time to do anything.
Not fight. Not plead. Just accept his incoming ride to hell.
The wire digs into his skin, and I pull so hard that it only takes a few seconds for him to pass out.
Head dangling, arms drooping, blood dripping out of his nose and onto my hands…
all these things making his death even more of a pain in the ass.
Time’s slipping away from me. Jamison’s death will be the only thing that extinguishes the desire for revenge. Every second I waste with this motherfucker is another lost to my brother. I drop the wire, causing his skull to hit the floor.
I consider my options: my boots smashing his head in, or the sign I purposely brought in for such an occasion.
My gaze searches for where the sign ended up.
Finding it a few feet away and under the table holding my father, I reach for it.
My fingers barely touch the metal when I feel him enter like a needle slipping into my brain-clean, premise, familiar.
Everything tilts, just slightly. Like reality itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what I will do. The room goes quiet while the candles flicker a little brighter. Colors smear at the edges. My fingers twitch around the sign as I turn to see him.
My fucking psychotic brother, leaning against the door frame. His smile is a razor wrapped in velvet. I want to wear it. Peel it off and pin it to the wall. I want to ruin it. Not just that, but all of him.
Our eyes lock, and it’s electric. A moment soaked in static and something redder, deeper.
I hold the sign just above the old man’s head. “You feel it too, don’t you?” I mutter, licking the words like they taste sweet. My voice is shaking, but it’s not fear-it’s the static in my skull. It’s the pressure building behind my eyes.
I wait for a response. For any type of inkling that my brother will help his sidekick. He doesn’t move. Raising my arms, I keep going, “That little itch. That little tug. No matter what, we can’t let each other go. You’re obsessed with making my life hell. And I…”
The sign whooshes down and connects to the old man’s skull. A mixture of blood and brains spray through the air. I hit him again, causing a dent to form on the top of the man’s forehead. “Well, I… just want to kill you,” I growl through the adrenaline.
My brother doesn’t flinch. But I see it-the tiniest flicker of rage in his gaze.
My mouth curves into a smile. This bothers him, even if he will never admit it. I smack the man’s skull again, making sure not to stop until there’s nothing but mush and tissue.
“You’ve been in my head,” I whisper, stepping closer. “Digging around like a rat in the walls. I heard you scratching.” I point the sign in his direction. “Always fucking scratching for attention. For me to come back.” I grin now, full of teeth. “Here I am, brother. You got me.”