Page 16 of Cole: Bloodlines
Gabe sighed. “It’s… personal.”
“Of course. Didn’t mean to pry.” The details didn’t matter anyway. The main thing was that the kid meanteverythingto them—and taking him apart, piece by piece, in front of them would be incredibly satisfying.
His cock twitched in his shorts when he thought about the look on Henry’s face when the true horror finally struck him. Back in the day, he’d hoped his dad would turn Henry over to him for an hour or so—maybe a day or two—before they butchered the little brat. Rather than kill the boy, his dad had tried totrainhim, hoping for abetterson than Byrne. Even when the kid nearly killed him, he still wouldn’t admit that Byrne was his superior heir.
All these years, Byrne festered that rage; a fury that wouldn’t fade until Henry was dead. Until his dad acknowledged that he wasn’t one of them. He should never have been born, and wouldn’t have if his dad had kept his fucking promise and butchered that bitch the day he brought her home. And Byrne had thought he’d done exactly that, until…
•••
The cabin was small, with a single room and a loft. There were no indoor toilets, just a nasty outhouse out back. The cabin had running water from a natural flow spring, but no hot water as there was no electricity. A tin, pot-belly stove sat in the center of the room, its rounded “belly” blackened. The boy had seen stoves like that lit up red hot, as if the fires within would burn right through the tin sides.
The only furniture was a couple of wooden chairs and a small wooden table with knicks all over the top as if someonehad used it for a chopping block to cut kindling or chop small pieces of firewood.
This was a hunting cabin, and this was the first time his dad had brought him there.
“Are we going hunting?” the boy asked hopefully. He’d killed animals before, but never hunted them. Or maybe it wasn’t animals they would be hunting. His heart beat faster, excitement surging through him. “Are we gonna hunt the whore?”
His dad grunted and walked over to the stove, squatting down. He opened the door and looked inside. “No,” he grumbled. “I already took care of her.”
“What?” The boy frowned. “But you said we could kill her together, when you were done with her.” His hands curled into fists as anger and disappointment burned inside him. “You promised.”
“You can help me with the next one.” The man picked up a stove shovel and scraped ashes from inside, into a small metal bucket. He stood up and used the shovel to smack the pipe. The sound of loosened debris rattled down the pipe.
“I wanted her,” the boy pouted.
His dad turned and looked at him dully. “You didn’t deserve her,” he said bluntly. “You’re too messy. When you learn to control your urges, maybe I’ll get you another nice, pretty one.”
The boy glared at his dad, then looked around the dingy cabin. “Why are we here?”
Backing away from the stove, his dad said, “This is where you’re going to learn to control yourself.”
“What?”
“You’re going to stay here and practice,” his dad said. “There’s plenty of wildlife to practice on. And if you show progress with that, maybe I’ll bring you a pretty girl.”
“Or a pretty boy? I like them, too.”
His dad gave him a dry look and shoved past him, exiting the cabin. The boy looked around the cabin again, then followed him outside.
“How long are we gonna stay here?”
“You,” his dad stated, “are going to stay for as long as it takes to get your shit together.”
“Me…?” The boy frowned. “You’re gonna leave me here… alone?” He wasn’t scared—nothing out in the woods was as scary and dangerous as him—but he didn’t understand why his dad would leave him.
“There will be someone here with you,” the man said. “A caretaker that I hired to look after the cabin. He’ll take care of your basic needs.”
“Who is he?”
“Nobody of importance.”
The boy just stared at him, thoughts churning in his head. Dark thoughts.
His dad narrowed his eyes. “Don’t kill him. Or you may just die up here.” There was little concern in his voice, as if he didn’t care either way.
“Aren’t you coming back?”
“From time to time. But the visits will be few and far between, so make sure the caretaker keeps breathing, or there will be no one to keep firewood in the cabin or to feed you.”
