Vera

Chapter 41

"Okay," I see some anxiety melt from Santi's eyes. I stand on my toes, using his shoulders to steady me, and press a kiss against his lips. I feel tension leave his body while he deepens the kiss. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. I repeat over and over in my head, hoping Santi can feel it. Hoping that Silas already knows and never forgets how much I love him. I push the hesitation out of my mind. I have to do this.

I gather all the strength in my body and shove Santiago's chest. He falls back onto his butt, caught off guard. I dart out the room, close it as quietly as I can, and lock it. I make a dash to Si's room and lock his door too. Thank God for Mila being terrible at putting things together, and Alex being too in love with her to care.

"Vera, open the door." I hear Santi whisper from the other side of Silas' door. Our room is connected to his, so I knew I had to lock it too. He's not going to kick down the door because if there is someone here he'd give away the element of surprise.

"I'm sorry, I had to. Put Silas in the hidden space in the closet. I'll be back," I swallow the lump in my throat. "I love you and Silas, so much." I strength my resolve, ignoring Santi calling my name.

My heart pumps faster from being enveloped by shadows. I try to calm myself. It's not even definite that there's someone here, but I swear I feel it in my bones.

I creep downstairs with my gun ready to fire. The moon illuminates the front room. Silence hangs in the air. I keep my back to the stairs just so I'm not completely exposed. I don't see anything or hear anyone until I hear heavy footsteps coming from my left. A brute force crashes into my side causing my head to slam into the ground. It knocks the air out my lungs and makes black spots cover my vision. It's a wonder how I don't lose consciousness or a hold of my gun.

The person turns me on my back and starts choking me. I can tell it's a man, his hands are rough against my skin. My first blow to the head still hasn't cleared, so I can't focus. My head pounds from lack of oxygen and pain. I can't aim my gun from how close he is, so I do the next best thing which is driving the butt of my gun into his head. His grip falters, allowing me to break free. I flip him so he's on his back, hitting him over and over. I get off of him and fire a shot to both of his leg. Adrenaline has lessened the full extent of my pain, letting me see who this is.

He's writhing in pain, trying to get up but unable to. He has a head of silver hair and a silver beard, only a few strands are black, dark eyes, soulless even. It doesn't click in my mind until I see the scar. Pink puckered skin, from his ear down, continuing under his shirt.

My father.

Anger courses through me. Anger for Callum, for my mother, for my life, for me. He use to seem so big, so powerful. Intimidating, now he's trying his damn hardest to show he's not in pain. Trying to be that same man that would hurt Cal and feel good afterwards. The same man that fed off of our fear. A pathetic, awful, cruel man that deserves more pain than I could ever give him. If I wasn't scared that he'd find a way to survive, I'd torture him for the rest of my life.

"Look at my daughter and the monster she's become." I'm not going to let him hurt me anymore. I'm not giving him that power.

"What is it that they say? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." He spits his words out with poison, intended to kill, but as I see him below me, wounded, I feel an ounce of sympathy. He lost his wife, who—from what I hear—he loved dearly. I can understand that kind of pain and grief, but I can never understand why his way of coping was to hurt his children.

My mother died giving birth to me, she didn't die because of me. And Cal did nothing to deserve my father's wrath. I feel sorry for the man that lost his wife—the love of his life—but I am not sorry for the man that took it out on his children.