“Do you think I’m evil? The kind of bad that can’t be fixed? I mean-“
She takes a deep breath before releasing it slowly.
“Maybe I was always going to be evil. Do you think sometimes people are just born bad and no matter how they fight the end result is still the same? Like Ted Bundy or John Wayne Gacy? I’ve killed as many people as Bundy. I’m a serial killer too. The worst of the worst.”
I make a fist and stroke my knuckles over her cheek, fighting the fury traveling through me. Every time I hear her talk about herself in a negative light, anger bubbles up in my chest. Knowing these ideas were planted by her so-called family only makes it worse.
“Listen to me, Killer. You were not born bad, and you’re not evil now either. Bundy and Gacy killed innocent people. The men you’ve ended are far from innocent. They are rapists, child abusers, the most vile human beings to exist. I guarantee you have saved far more lives than you have taken.”
Both of my brothers watch me cautiously as I continue.
“You are good, baby. So fucking good. Because of you, we got sixty children out tonight. When we add to that the twelve visibly pregnant girls, it’s even more. Those are children who will never experience what you did. I know you were joking earlier, but it’s true, baby. You are an angel. Our sweet, perfect angel. A woman who always puts others' needs ahead of her own. You are not evil. They are, and they’ve convinced you that you’re the same. Nothing could be further from the truth. You cannot control what you’re born into. It doesn’t define you.”
Tears fall down her cheeks, mingling with the dried blood from her kills. It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful.
Carter reaches over and strokes the back of her neck.
“Deep down, you know Killian is right. Destroying evil does not make you like them, Little Heathen. It makes you better than them.”
Knox speaks up from the front seat as he drives.
“Do you actually feel bad for killing those scum?”
“No. I guess that’s what makes me evil. When I’m killing people, I feel a thrill—elation. Afterwards, I don’t regret it. I would do it again. I look at the blood on my hands and don’t feel a thing, but know I probably should.”
Knox pulls up to the house, parks the SUV, and opens the door for me. I carry her into the house, straight to the large en-suite bathroom, and set her on her feet. After I turn on the water for her, I make my way to the door when I hear the panic in her voice.
“Don’t leave me alone. Please don’t leave me by myself.”
Turning around, I walk back to her. Grabbing the hem of her shirt on either side, I lift it over her head and toss it on the floor behind me. I reach into her pocket and grab the container of crosses and set them on the counter before undoing her pants and lowering them over her hips, letting them fall to the floor.
“Stay with me.” She whispers, her eyes staring into mine, filled with desperation.
“I’m not going anywhere, baby. If you need me here with you, that's where I’ll be.”
After removing her bra and panties, I remove my clothing as she watches me, her eyes darkening slightly with need. Lifting her into my arms and stepping into the open shower, I set her on her feet in front of the shower head. Pulling the knife out of her hair I toss it across from the shower into the sink. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back into the water. Once her hair is sufficiently wet, I pour shampoo into my palm and wash it gently. I massage her scalp, eliciting a sweet moan from her lips.
“That feels good.”
I tilt her head back again, rinsing the suds from her hair. Once it’s done I grab the body wash and pour it into my palm and stare at her seeking permission. It’s clear she’s upset, so I’m being more careful than usual.
“Can I wash you, baby?”
She nods her consent. I start by cleansing her hands before moving to her arms. When I drop to my knees in front of her, to wash between her legs, I nearly die from the beautiful whimper escaping from her delicate little throat.
“Killian.”
I rise to my feet and rinse her off before turning her around and doing the same with her backside. Stopping momentarily, I run my fingers over my name on her ass. It’s only four letters, but it's monumental. She wanted me to do this to her. Heather wanted my name on her body. This is what acceptance looks like. How can she think for a second that she could be evil? Forgiveness is an act of love. It’s good in its purest form. Everything she is.
Chapter Forty-One
THE HEATHEN
Killian turns the water off and dries my hair with a towel, before making his way with it down my entire body. It’s not until he wraps me in a separate, dry towel that he grabs one for himself and dries his skin. He lifts me in his arms, and I don’t argue that I can walk because I need this closeness. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I press my face to his chest, inhaling his masculine scent.
“Are you sniffing me, Killer?”
He lays me down and gets on the bed beside me. His lips lift into a devilish smirk.