Page 88 of Wicked Deceit
I could choke Piper to death, knock her out, and save Benoit. I could do a lot of things. Snap her in two. Break her damn neck. But—but Kaycee. They took her somewhere. Somewhere I’m walking to, and I don’t know the way. Only Piper does. If I kill her, I’ll never find Kaycee. But if I don’t do something now, what am I supposed to do? Save my damn brother? Or save my girl? Whatever decision I make fucks me and them. Save one and not the other.
As much of a dick as it makes me, and as much as my heart fucking hurts to walk away, I leave and turn my back on the burning house. I don’t look back. I walk beside Piper with a stone face, continuing to leave every ounce of my feelings behind. My feelings died in the fire engulfing my brother’s body, and I can’t fucking do anything about it. I pretend like nothing is wrong, like part of the family I built this year isn’t lying inside that house and dying.
Fuck.
Piperyapsonandon throughout our walk. What she says, I don’t fucking know. I should probably pay attention, but my mind is a million miles away with Benoit, praying he’s awake by now. Praying, he found my note and leapt out the window. If I could just get away from Psycho Suzy, I could text the others. Warn them about Kaycee. Warn them about everything going on and come up with some sort of fucking plan.
Piper leads me through the forest at the back of campus. Thick trees hover above us, shrouding us in complete darkness. The thick branches snuff out the stars and the moon, bathing us in the eerie shadows, barely letting us glimpse our hands in front of our faces. Sticks crunch beneath our feet as we walk along the narrowing path. Low-hanging branches brush across my clothes and slap me in the face.
A deadly silence falls between us when Piper finally shuts her fucking mouth. Only my heavy breathing and heartbeat pound in my ears. We continue our journey through the never-ending rows of trees, crossing a familiar path. The ghost of Kaycee's defiant face, telling me she wouldn’t leave the school, comes to mind. This is the same forest—the same path—I kindly gave Kaycee her first warning to leave. She wrote me off, scoffed at me—fucking typical. I tried to get her to leave this hellhole. I knew what was coming. Her name had come up, and they were going to start her damn bullying campaign, just like Magnolia the year before. Of course, Kaycee wasn’t having it.
Deep regret sits in my gut. I repeatedly tried, even if it was under the demand of Alpha, to get Kaycee to leave. Leaving her in the dumpster, I’d hoped she’d cry and beg to go, but she didn’t. Shoving her gorgeous face into a piss-filled toilet didn’t even do the trick. It pissed her off, but it didn’t make her pack her bags and high-tail it out of here. Everything I tried to accomplish under the guise of the Apocalypse didn’t work. After they told me to monitor her and become her friend, I finally said fuck it and gave in. I escaped in her. She was my fucking drug and my obsession.
Dear God, I know I’m not a good man. I know I don’t pray enough. But today—today, I need you. I only ask that you save Benoit’s life and help me find Kaycee. I’ll pay for all my sins. Just help me find her. Could you help me save her? Or I won’t live with myself.
“We’re here!” she says, clapping her hands together in excitement, reanimating the conversation that had died between us.
I wrinkle my nose when we walk up behind a miserable-looking two-story shit hole of a house—a house that needs to be torn down or burnt to a crisp. Thick boards sit over every window in the back, blocking the view from the outside. The faded blue siding hangs down in several spots, waving in the wind and smacking the house in a rhythmic beat with every blow. Missing pieces reveal the original wood below, and mud cakes the rest of the exterior.
I survey the area discreetly as Piper takes her phone out again and buries her nose in it. We’re out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but the chirps of the crickets and the crisp wind to keep us company. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end at the feel of eyes searing through me. Goosebumps skitter across my flesh when I whip my head around, looking off into the distance. I narrow my eyes at the shadows playing tricks on me in the distance, and I fucking swear it moves with the wind. I shake my head and refocus on Piper, who puts her phone in her pocket and smiles at me expectantly.
“What the fuck is this place?” I ask through clenched teeth when she waves me past the house's side, and we walk toward a dilapidated porch barely hanging on by a thread.
The pitiful fucking porch once had a nice white railing protecting its occupants from falling over. But long ago, the paint chipped, and the nails gave, sending it to the decorative bushes in front. I take the two steps up with caution—rotten wood crunches under my feet, threatening to send me to the cold ground below. I make my way toward a black mailbox with a keen eye, half-hanging from the faded blue siding, taking in every detail I can muster. The window frames are peeling white paint, and the house fucking leans to the left. Jesus. What a fucking dump. How is it still standing?
“Grandma’s house!” she squeals like I should know what the fuck that means.
I scowl again. Because it’s my only fucking facial expression right now. I’m about to step foot into the hungry wolves’ den, where all my demons hide. And I’m sure I will have to do something fucking awful.
Piper pulls me toward the red front door with excitement, practically vibrating with the damn emotion. I want to drop-kick her ass for every giggle she gives.
As she pulls me along, yacking about who the fuck knows, two numbers on the outside of the house catch my attention. They wouldn’t mean anything to anyone else. But to me? To me, they mean a-fucking-lot. Forty-four. Forty-four Rosebud Drive. The address we’ve seen multiple times before and have tried to track down. I guess I fucking found it too little, too late.
As we step through the broken front door and into the house, a scream pierces the musty air. My body tenses. Every. Fucking. Muscle. They lock tight, no matter how hard Piper tries to pull me in the other direction. I’m a damn statue. Torrent thoughts run a marathon inside my head. Anxiety spikes. My heart works double-time as the scream sounds again.
Play your part and play it well to save Kaycee from whatever nightmare she’s enduring.
I grin, sighing into her touch like it’s a comfort. Instead, I want to chop her hand into tiny pieces and feed them to fucking sharks for breakfast.
“Is that the bitch?” My voice dips deep, dripping with false want and lust. But inside? My gut rolls and bile rises in my throat.
Piper giggles, finally pulling me toward a closed door of what appears to be the disgusting living room. There are holes, stains, and missing wood flooring pieces throughout the room. No one has occupied this place for many years—the only sign someone has been here is the updated electrical. Cameras look down from every corner, recording our movements. Other than those added features, the room is decrepit.
“Welcome to the beginning!” Piper preens with a grin, shoving me through the door.
The lock sounds behind us, but I’m frozen in place. Again. Jesus. I need to get myself under control. I scowl, crossing my arms and taking in the surrounding room. It’s updated. Monitors sit everywhere, showing at least seven rooms on camera. I’m not sure what’s more terrifying: the torture equipment in each room or the woman covered in blood, screaming her lungs out on screen three. But it’s not Kaycee. Thank fuck. She’s nowhere to be seen on any monitor.
“Welcome,” says a distorted voice.
I swallow hard, perfecting my damn demented mask of depravity. Pretend you like this, asshole. For Kaycee. For your fucking friends. To bring these dickwads down.
Three red-robed monsters sit at a long table side-by-side. They don't move a muscle with their hands tucked into their oversized sleeves. A firm brick wall of red robes, each gesturing for me to sit in front of them on the lone rolling chair opposite them.
I sit without question. I know who they are through our research, and all the sleuthing we did to uncover their secrets. So it’s no surprise when they remove their masks and reveal the murderous Van Buren brothers with grins stretching their faces–way creepier than the faceless masks.
“Hello, Son,” My father purrs at me with pride in his voice. His dark eyes sparkle at the sight of me sitting before them like a lamb ready for slaughter.
“Father.” My muscles turn slack, loosening in the chair, giving the three monsters the illusion I’m fine.
