his eyes fades, gives way to this fierce glow. He rakes a hand through his dark hair, greying at the temples. It’s sickening how normal—how distinguished, even—this man would look in some other time and place where he isn’t impersonating Satan.
“I don’t think you follow, Gracie,” he bites off, focused rage coming into his clipped tone. “You shrugging me off like I’m one of those dickless little college kids you dated...not how this works. Maybe you need a proper lesson.”
“Clay, wait, I...”
I don’t know what to say, what to do, what to even think as he marches across the room. He knows the house too well, heading straight for the little cabinet that belonged to my grandmother.
All I know is I’m utterly frozen as he tears the glass door open, reaches inside, and holds up the urn.
Oh my God.
Not that.
Not Mom.
“Clay...”
“Last chance, Gracie. I’m being kind. So how about you be a good girl and reciprocate, hmm?” Snarling, he holds it up high over his head, flashing a cruel grin. “I’ll ask you one more time, sweetie—will you come with me? Give up your shitty little farm and join the living. Don’t let your daddy wind up like Mama, a pile of ash I can hold in my hand. Not a hard choice.”
I fight with everything I have not to tremble, gazing into those brown eyes so dark they’re nearly black.
“Well? What do you say? Speak!” he snaps.
I say nothing.
Not with words.
I try to ignore the sickening crash as the urn impacts the wall behind me. I take off, racing up the stairs, straight for Dad’s room through a cloud of ash.
He’s got the gun on his nightstand.
I wish to everything holy I’d gone to the range just a few more times. I’m not the worst shot, but now, facing the prospect of having to fire a gun to save my life or to end this monster’s?
Crud.
It feels like hours pass, but it can’t be more than a minute or two.
By the time I hear Clay’s heavy footsteps thudding slowly up the stairs, smell his stinking cigar smoke from a freshly lit smoke, see his gnarled shadow on the wall...
I’m a broken mess, but I’ve got Dad’s gun in front of me, safety off, pointed and ready.
“Very funny, Gracie,” he says, stopping inside the door, his body filling it. “Put that fucking toy down and talk to me.”
I fire, once, and the bullet flies right over his shoulder and buries itself in the wall.
Jesus.
It’s enough to make him flinch.
Enough to make him drop that wretched cigar.
Enough to smell the rug underneath his feet burning a few seconds later as he gives me the vicious look I’ve seen again and again in my nightmares.
“You can’t be fucking serious, you—”
“Try it. Go right ahead, you bastard, take another step and I’ll shoot you in the balls. That first shot was fair warning. Next time, I swear to God, Clay, I won’t miss.” I’m stunned at how harsh I sound when it feels like my lungs are full of cement.
I’ll never know what makes him turn, retreating slowly away from the soulless carnage he’s left downstairs.
Maybe he’s genuinely afraid I’ll make good on my word.
Maybe he realizes he needs backup.
Maybe he means to finish this when he’s sure I’ll be easy prey.
Oh, he definitely intends to fight another day, and make me pay for daring to threaten him.
Whatever it is, I don’t relax until I hear the screen door banging shut and the slow, angry growl of an engine fading in the distance.
Present
“You were brave, beautiful. So very fucking brave.”
Ridge’s voice is all thunder as he kisses the top of my head and hugs me tighter.
“Clay...he left then,” I whisper, finishing my story. “I locked the doors and hid behind the basement stairs for over an hour until Dad came home. He found me, clutching the gun, and was on the verge of calling 9-1-1 before I snapped out of my trance.”
“A perfectly normal reaction to that level of psycho shit,” he growls.
I push off his chest and sit up.
“Maybe, Ridge. But...but brave? No, I wasn’t. No way. I was a coward.” Regret sickens me again. “It was total self-preservation. I could’ve ended it if I’d just shot him. He wasn’t even armed, I don’t think. But I didn’t. Because I was afraid. Scared of what he might do when he’d already ripped out my effing heart!”
Ridge sits up. “Of course you were afraid, Grace. You were smart, not cowardly, to show the