She was fast.
But not fast enough.
I twist in her hold, raising the revolver to her face, and without another thought, I shoot.
Blood explodes from the side of her head, my stomach heaving as it splashes on my legs, her lifeless body falling back and crumpling on the floor.
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, slowly standing, focusing my eyes on where my father has James on his knees.
They both stare at me, frozen with eyes wide.
Tears stream down my face, the fragments of my heart slicing through my flesh as I lift my shaky arms, aiming the gun at my father. “It didn’t have to be this way,” I whisper.
“Wendy,” James says, his voice the strongest it’s been all night. “Stop this.”
“Did Mom die in a car accident?” I ask, my finger curling around the trigger.
“Little Shad—”
“Did she?!” I scream, my throat scratching from the force of my yell.
My father’s face drops, all pretenses gone, a blank and hollow look entering his eyes. “No.”
“And Jon?” I continue, though the anguish is splitting me in half.
His chin lifts. “Jon is not my son. He’s a bastard, and the living embodiment of your mother’s disrespect.”
My face screws up, the truth excruciating as it gores its way through the center of my chest. I breathe deep, welcoming the pain, allowing it to fuel me.
I look to James, then back to my father. My hands tremble so violently, I’m surprised I can even hold them up. But I grit my teeth and push through the tremors. “Don’t make me do this.” My voice catches on the torn-up edges of my throat.
My dad chuckles, but his eyes dart nervously between the weapon and my face. “Wendy, don’t be ridiculous. I’m your father.”
I take slow steps forward.
“Wendy.” James’s voice is sharp. His gaze is wide and open, resolute acceptance in his eyes. “It’s alright, darling,” he purrs. “Put the gun down.”
Tears blur my vision, pain ravaging my soul, but I do as he says, lowering the weapon.
My father’s shoulders relax, his brows drawing in. “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Little Shadow. But in time, you’ll understand this was for the best.”
He spins around, pushing his revolver against James’s head. James closes his eyes, as if he’s ready and willing to accept his fate.
But I’m not.
“Dad?” I lift the gun and cock it. “I’m sorry, too.”
And then I pull the trigger.
My body hits the ground before his, heaving sobs wracking through me as I collapse in on myself, the anguish of what I just did more than I can bear. My arms wrap around my stomach, nausea making my skin sweat and my body heat, and I heave, vomit rising through my esophagus and pouring from my mouth onto the floor.
My throat burns and my soul is shattered, my eyes so swollen I can barely see.
Soft touches caress my back, and then I’m pulled into a lap, James’s lips coming down to press against my face. “Shh, darling. It’s okay. It will all be okay.”
His hold is shaky and weak, but it’s there.
And right now, it’s exactly what I need.
47
Wendy
It’s been a week since I’ve killed, and grief sits heavy on my soul.
I’m not sure there will ever be a time that it doesn’t, but I don’t regret what I’ve done. I was mourning my father long before now, and if I had to do it all over, we’d still be where we are today.
At his memorial service, sitting in the front row, with hundreds of people behind us.
The tears that stream down my face are real, remembering the father who brought me acorns and always said good night. But that man didn’t exist in the end, and I pray I helped his soul find peace. Because he wasn’t finding it here.
I’m not sure how everything was covered up, and I don’t care to know. But to the rest of the world, Peter Michaels was killed by a low-level criminal named Sammy Antonis; the secret child of the late Senator Barrie, known to the underworld as Croc.
James somehow got us out of Cannibal’s Cave, finding the twins tied to trees, broken and bruised, but alive.
And by the time we made it back to The Tiger Lily, James was no longer conscious. Curly met us there with their in-house doctor, and although I screamed until my voice went hoarse to take him to a hospital, they refused.
Too many questions and too many witnesses.
Forty-seven stitches, a few blood bags, and a week of rest later, and you’d never know he was so close to losing his life.
Me, on the other hand, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that my soul is now tainted in red. A heavy mark, but one I’ll wear with pride.
James says that sometimes true love requires sacrifice. Well, I’ll sacrifice my soul a thousand times over in order to stay with his.
After the service wraps up, we settle into the car, James’s arms wrapping around my shoulders and dragging me into his side. He tangles the fingers on his free hand with mine, bringing them up to his mouth and kissing every knuckle. “Are you alright, darling?”
“As good as I can be, I suppose.”
“Have you checked on Jonathan?”
I sigh, shaking my head. Jon didn’t come to the service. When he found out about my father’s death, he seemed happy. And when we told him the truth about his own father, he seemed relieved.
It’s odd, knowing that James and I share a brother, but now that he’s out of Rockford Prep, and living with us on the yacht, I’m excited for them to get to know each other. To love each other, as much as I love both of them.
If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past few months, it’s that family is what you make it.
“Hey, do you think we can stop by The Vanilla Bean?” I ask, suddenly wanting to see the smiling face of a friend.
Angie reached out after hearing of my father’s passing, and we picked up right where we left off. She hasn’t asked what happened while I was gone, and I haven’t offered an explanation. Although, we haven’t seen each other in person yet, so who knows if that will change.
James leans in, pressing his lips to my ear. “We can do anything you like, darling. All you have to do is say the word.”
“Okay.” I grin, turning toward him. My hand reaches up to cup his face. “And you? How are you doing?”
He smirks. “I’m ready to go back home and tie you to my bed.”
“Behave, darling.” I press a kiss to his lips. “Hey, not to change the subject, but do you want to have a service for Ru?”
His eyes darken, his jaw tensing underneath my palm. He opened up about his relationship with Ru over the past week. He said he was just bored from being bedbound, and needed to talk, but I have a sneaking suspicion it was his way of helping me grieve.
When my thoughts would overwhelm me, and my heart would ache with pain, James would wrap me in his arms and tell me tales of The Lost Boys, led by Ru and his bright red hair.
And it did. Help, that is.
He shakes his head. “No. He wouldn’t have wanted that.”
My heart clenches in my chest. “Okay, but we always can. If you want.”
He presses his lips back to mine, his fingers trailing down my dress and dipping underneath the hem. “You’re a very caring woman, pet. Allow me to show my appreciation.”
“James,” I gasp. “You’re still healing.”
He smirks as he slides off the limo’s seat, his hands forcing my legs apart so he can settle between my thighs. “You’re absolutely right about that,” he says, his fingers moving my panties to the side and dipping into my folds. “You would deny an injured man some pleasure?”
“I just think you need to be—” My voice cuts off as he leans in, the flat of his tongue swiping up my core and swirling around my clit. My fingers reach down, gripping his hair, my hips pressing into him.
My heart rate speeds as I glance to the driver, but the partition is up and the windows are tinted, so I’m sure that he can’t see. Still, the thought of him hearing is enough to make my body coil tight.
His finger dips inside of my core, curling against my inner walls, drawing a long moan from my mouth. A few more passes of his tongue and that’s all it takes, my orgasm cascading through me like an avalanche, my thighs pressing harshly against his face.
He places my panties back in place, pressing a soft kiss on top of the fabric before gliding his body back up my frame and meeting my lips for a kiss.
“That’s my girl,” he says.
I grin against him, warmth spreading through my chest, my arms wrapping around his neck. “Only yours, James Barrie.”
“And always yours, Wendy, darling.” He kisses my jaw. “Every night.”
“And straight on ‘til morning.”
Epilogue
James
Two Years Later
I used to hate the sea.
Not that you would know it from the way I stand on the sundeck of The Tiger Lily, the saltwater breeze blowing on my face.