Page 31 of Claimed By my Stepbrother
“Coward! You don’t even have the stones to tell the truth,” I shout as my short fuse comes to an abrupt end.
I pull two guns from the holster at the small of my back. Before he can say another word, they’re cocked and aimed in his direction. The fear on his face gives me an unexpected thrill.
“Tell me. Because not even holy water could save you now.” I won’t stop until he’s long past dead, and he only has himself to blame.
“Fuck you, Knox, and that whore you called a mother.”
“Last chance,” I offer before firing two warning shots in his knee caps. His agonized scream is deafening. His face turns dangerously red as a slew of curses spill from his mouth. I wave the pistols at him, prompting him to get on with it, and he pales from fear, his armor finally cracking.
“She—she killed herself. She wanted to d-die. All I did was speed up the process. Turns out she wasn’t strong enough without her antidepressants. I—I…well, I switched them out for placebos. Your mother… she—she was weak. S-she couldn’t handle being in our f-family. She was too soft for this life,” he explains, struggling to keep his voice even, despite shrugging his shoulders as casually as the chains would allow, as if his actions were reasonable and not purely barbaric.
I knew things weren’t what they seemed, and now that I know the truth, Rowan just put the final nail in his coffin. Now, he will suffer the consequences of his moral corruption. There are so many deliciously painful ways to end and dispose of him, and now it’s time to let my demons out to play in the name of all of his victims.
Preppy wheels in a cart full of items, any one of which could end his pathetic existence on its own. But, here they all sit—sharp, blunt, hot, cold, ancient, modern—just waiting for me to decide.
I walk over, running my finger along the different implements, envisioning how each one could be used on Rowan’s skin and bones. I’m sure the look on my face is terrifying—I’m finally feeling deranged.
Wrapping my fingers around a metal handle, I whirl to face Rowan, quickly closing the distance between us and jam the sharp ice pick through his right hand and into the arm of the wooden chair. “That’s for all the women you’ve hurt.”
A wooden handle holding the end of a landscape scythe catches my eye, and for a moment, when the thought comes to mind, I question my own morality. Dismissing it quickly, I pick up the scythe, returning to stand in front of Rowan. The fingers of his damaged hand are gripping the chair tightly. He sees me glance at his other hand with a calculating grin, and instinctively balls them into a fist.
“Preppy!” I call, needing a second set of hands for the… fun… I have in store for dear old dad.
The door opens, and my best friend casually strolls in like one of his bosses isn’t screaming in pain in the same room as him. “Yeah, Knox?” he asks cheerily, his back to Rowan, ignoring him.
“Hold his good hand open for me, would you?” He throws a thumb over his shoulder at Rowan, and I jut my chin in confirmation.
“Sure thing, Boss,” he says, grinning maniacally. Calling me boss is yet anotherfuck youto Rowan. With his demise, I’ll move up in the organization, whether I want to or not.
Rowan thrashes against the chains as Preppy grabs his hand and forces him to hold it out against the wooden arm of the chair. I let the end of the scythe drag along his fingers, drawing little droplets of blood in its wake.
Suddenly, I lift the blade and bring it down on his hand, quickly severing his pinky and ring fingers. His pained wails echo around the room bringing happiness to my heart. “That is for Emilia and Sirena.”
I return to the cart, picking up a long awl, this time piercing his shoulder, barely missing his heart. “This one? This is for my mom.” His screams are music to my ears.
He roars in anguish, cursing like it’s more important than breathing. I toss the pick into the air, catching it easily, before passing it back and forth in my hands.
“My entire life, you’ve chosen yourself over everyone around you, Rowan. You make decisions with no consideration for the consequences or the pain it will inflict on others. I’ve made it my life’s mission to complicate yours. And now, putting you down like the rabid beast you are, is my reward. This one's for me.” I shove the last pick in one of his bullet holes and move it around to inflict maximum pain.
Rowan bleeds out slowly, feeling excruciating pain in every part of his body. Once he’s gone, I don’t bother with calling the coroner. There’s no room for error. I’ve got to make sure there’s no trace left behind. I put a text into the cleanup crew, knowing they’ll all want to be a part of this job.
Now that Rowan is gone, it’s time for a new era filled with endless possibilities. I feel like I can breathe again, like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. A wide smile spreads across my face as the reality of his death sinks in. Suddenly, the world feels a little less evil.
Chapter sixteen
The Company
Sirena
Knoxlefthoursagoto deal with Rowan, and I’ve been sitting on the bed beside mom, keeping her awake per the doctor’s orders. We’ve talked about everything—except Rowan Valenti. And, thankfully, the developing relationship between his son and me.
We’ve laughed over funny memories of when dad was alive and silly things she caught Ivy and me doing when we were younger. She told me stories about her time at Arrivederci and I’m so happy that she didn't give her job up.
Mom asks for a bottle of water, so I go into the kitchen to get one. I see the cast iron skillet sitting on the stove, and the memories from earlier come flooding back to me.
I never thought I would be capable of murdering someone. At least, not until I saw Rowan attacking my mom. I didn’t think twice, and I didn’t care if I hit him hard enough to end his life—it didn’t even cross my mind. All I could think about was protecting my mom. I don’t even regret it. Most surprisingly, I’m not feeling any sympathy for him, despite knowing that, right now, Knox is torturing him.
I take the bottle of water to Mom and find her curled up, reading the back of a book that I brought from home when Knox moved me into his penthouse. I blush when I read the title, preferring that my mother doesn’t know the kind of kinky fuckery I read on a daily basis.
