Page 164 of Endless Anger
Something tells me he came in the hope of finding his nephew alive and keeping me from Grayson’s wrath. Despite his silence on the phone earlier, there’s no doubt in my mind he’d never let anyone touch me.
Because he’s my dad, and that’s what they’re supposed to do.
I scrub a hand down the side of my face, nodding. “All right. I get it. Sorry for being a dick.”
Dad smirks. “You’re my kid. I expect it at this point.”
“Hey,” Alistair says, finally breaking away from Lucy. “Maybe we should get out of here before the others come back.”
My father concurs, and the two of them start the charge out of the cavern. I hang back, taking a few extra seconds to get a better look at Lucy. Her sweater is gone, her tank top and arms covered in blood. There’s a purple welt on her wet, red face and trauma hidden behind her wide, guarded blue eyes.
But when I open my arms, she limps to me instantly, and I swear to God I never want to leave her embrace again for as long as I live.
Anger is impossible to hold on to when I’m wrapped up in her.
I keep her close to my side as we walk out behind our dads, but she freezes in place in the tunnel, staring to the left. She doesn’t move, even when I gently try to coax her in the opposite direction.
“Lucy,” her father urges. “We need to go.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t.”
I glance down, assessing her again. “Is it your leg? I’ll just carry you?—”
“No,” she cuts in. “I don’t want to leave those guys down here and risk letting them get away. Not after what…” She trails off, voice wobbling, and she rubs her nose with her hand. “Not after what they did.”
My eyebrows arch. Alistair exhales, and Dad purses his lips. “I suppose your father and I could go?—”
“No.I want to see it. I want them dead, and I want to make sure it sticks.”
“Honey…”
Ignoring Alistair, she snatches the gun strapped to Dad’s side and shoves past me. The three of us look at one another for a moment, then blink, springing into action after her. I catch up easily, since she’s kind of slow right now due to her injuries, and pry the weapon from her hands.
“Don’t try to talk me out of it,” she deadpans.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, pup.” I show her how to use the weapon in the glow from Dad’s flashlight, aware that she’s not unfamiliar with guns because of her dad, but still. I need to do something with my hands.
She watches carefully, placing her fingers where I tell her to. Her breathing is labored, and mine matches it.
The last cavern before a dead end is totally lit up inside; we peer around the wall, noting the table where a tall, lanky man is strapped, lying in a pool of his own blood. He’s been stripped naked, and a metal device with a phallic end piece is set up behind him, between his legs.
It’s bloody too.
Dad curses under his breath.
Foxe’s face is black and blue, turned on its side. His head is restrained with thick Velcro straps, his ankles bolted to the table legs, while a slice in one exposes thick tendon and bone.
Lucy retches quietly, and I bite my tongue until a small piece tears off.
Other than my cousin’s lifeless form, there’s only one masked figure hanging out. He’s sitting in a chair with his back toward us, playing a game on his phone with earbuds in.
He must sense something is off though, because in the next second, he’s jumping up and whirling on us. I dive for his ankles, knocking him off his feet, and take out my utility knife, driving it into his stomach repeatedly until he matches what they did to Foxe.
I push the mask and hood off him, revealing that fucking redheaded guy Muna’s friends with. His eyes are wide open, unseeing as the life fades.
Lucy spits on him.
Getting back to my feet, I glare at Alistair and my father. “Thanks for the fucking help.”
