Page 67 of Papa's Beloved

I turn off the game and take his hand, letting him pull me up. He pulls me into a kiss. I notice the protective gear over his clothes.

“Those are nice.”

“Makes for easy clean up when we do wet work.”

“You don’t look very messy.”

“We didn’t want you to see a mess. Smoke urged us to use things that wouldn’t cut him.”

“You beat him instead?”

“With so many things.”

I walk through the anteroom and into the back. Linden is starting to turn black and blue from the bruises. He won’t live long enough to feel the aftermath of the beating. When he raises his head to look at me. It’s a broken man that peers back at me.

I look at the tools that Smoke has laid out. I choose a wicked looking blade. I calmly walk over to him and stab him. I make sure the blade is angled right and I shove it up and pierce his heart.

“You’ll never hurt another child again. I say as I watch the light bleed from his eyes.

When he’s dead, Papa takes the knife from my hand and walks me away from the pit area. The guys cut him down, remove the duct tape from his mouth and step back. I watch the floor open up. Linden’s body drops to the water below and the waiting alligators. I peer over the edge watching the gators devour his body.

I collapse against Papa and cry. He picks me up and carries me back out front. We sit on the couch with me on his lap and his arms around me. I cry until I’m too tired to keep my eyes open.

“It’s finally over. I’m safe. We’re safe,” I say putting my hand over my belly.

Epilogue

One week later

Papa

I AM SO FUCKING PROUDof my woman and I can’t wait to make her mine. I got up extra early this morning to make her breakfast in bed. I checked on her a few minutes ago and she’s still sleeping. I put everything on a tray and carry it into the bed, sitting it down on the nightstand before waking her up.

Leaning down, I place a kiss on her cheek. “Beloved, wake-up.”

I watch her striking green eyes open. She smiles up at me.

“Sit up love I made you breakfast in bed.”

A frown mars her face. “I don’t think I can eat.”

“Trust me?”

“You know I do?”

“Sit up, please.”

She sits up. I prop pillows behind her head and neck, making sure she’s comfortable before placing the tray table over her lap. I pull back the silver dome, revealing crackers. Instead of juice in her glass, there’s blackberry ginger ale.

“Are these your morning sickness crackers?”

“It is.”

“I love you.”

“I know. Marry me.”

“I already said yes.

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