Di hacked into their camera system before she fell asleep, and told me how many guards to expect. They were focused on the gate, and only two were circling the property. I don’t care how many there are, I will kill them all.
Unlike most of my kills, this one will be messy.
After waiting for an opening, a quick jog up wooden stairs to reach the house undetected is easy. Hiding in a wisteria-covered gazebo, I watch the guard rotations along with the house while waiting for Di to come online.
The flutter of an upstairs window curtain catches my attention, and I see E there. His face looks like a mix of anger and fear, and for once, I feel the emotions along with him. Whatever his father did, he will pay.
It’s time for Thomas Miller to die.
As if summoned by my thoughts, the man’s voice filters out to me through the open window. “What the fuck are you doing standing around? You need to pack.”
E replies but I can’t hear it, and I watch as if in slow motion as his father slaps him. E touches his cheek but doesn’t yell out, replying with more volume. “Yes, sir.”
Rage boils through me at the assault. Fuck this, he’s mine.
Right as I’m about to surge out of the gazebo and scale the wall using only the trellis and sheer force of will, Di is in my ear. “You left without telling me?”
“Can you see me?” I ask in a whisper instead of answering her rhetorical question. Obviously I left. “I’m in the gazebo.”
“No, you’re in a blind spot,” Di admits and I hear the tell-tale sound of her nails on the keys. I saw that a couple were broken when I looked Di over. If she wants a personal manicurist on speed dial, I will happily oblige when this is over. “You need to get to the north side to cut the power. Copy?”
“Copy. Any obstacles?”
“One, nine-o-clock,” Di tells me, and I’m glad to hear her using the radio language like we’re on a military op. “He’s distracted on his phone. Move now, over.”
Taking the prepared syringe out of the pocket of my cargo pants, I spot the man texting and about to wander past. Removing the cap, I tuck it away before covering his mouth with one gloved hand. The drugs get pumped right into the side of his neck, but the man isn’t going down with a fight.
He bites my palm, but instead of tearing my hand away, I shove inward to muffle his yell while kicking the back of his knees. When he’s down, I grab a nearby statue of a cherub and hit him over the head. His brown hair gets dark with blood as life drains out of him. Dropping the statue, I roll the man so he’s laying on the his injury.
Now it looks like he got high then passed out in an unfortunate accident. So maybe I won’t be so messy after all.
Approaching the north side of the house, I find the panel in an attached utility room and flip all the breakers to the off position. Shouts of surprise ring out, but one voice in particular stands out.
Anger boils through me when I hear E, my pet, calling out for his father. Despite everything the man has said and done for him, when he’s in danger, he still calls for his dad.
Does E not know I came for him? That I will always come for him?
Chapter twenty-seven
E
Withmycheekstillstinging from my father’s hand, I start to pack. I only have a few generic things at the Hamptons house, but I double check what I brought from the city. There’s nothing of importance there, despite how much the items symbolizing status and wealth used to mean to me.
One bespoke suit in a garment bag, four pairs of expensive shoes in their own section, a handful of designer shirts and jeans, a couple cashmere sweaters, and a Piaget Polo watch my father gave me when I graduated High School. Not because he was proud of me, he made that clear, but because it is what his business associates give their sons. I have always been a status symbol for him, until I didn’t live up to his standards.
He wasn’t happy when I mumbled a reply and didn’t add ‘sir’ to the end. But my heart still only wants one man to be my Sir. A sharp pang of longing to rival the slap shoots through me and I rub at my chest.
Mac doesn’t want me, so I need to get over him and move on with my life.
Lifting my suitcase from the bed, I start rolling it to the hall when the lights go out, leaving me in darkness. Yells and curses come from nearby and downstairs, and footsteps reach me as my eyes start to adjust.
“Move,” my dad barks, grabbing my arm and pulling me back towards his office. I leave my suitcase and stumble over it. “Lazy, awkward, no good…” my dad grumbles as we make it inside. Booker is there, so I’m not sure if he means me, his guard, or both of us. Probably me. “Get out there and see what’s going on! Call for backup.”
Booker nods, closing the door, and my dad immediately locks it. There’s a deadbolt, and the door looks thicker than the others in the house. “This is your safe room?” I guess, but he doesn’t reply. “How will we get out?”
There’s windows, but we’re on the second story with ten-foot ceilings downstairs over a raised foundation. A jump from there would break our ankles or worse. I hate feeling trapped, and it’s even worse when I don’t know why.
Dad gets out his phone, before cursing again. “The cameras are down.”