Aveline

Chapter Forty-Two

Leo left yesterday.

And any time I thought I spent healing instantly fell apart once I saw him.

It was difficult to get him to leave. But he must have understood a fraction of why I needed him gone. It's so damn risky with him near me.

I got another letter from Andrew.

Aveline,

Don't let it happen again. Or you'll find yourself with a dead body to deal with.

-Andrew

That was reason enough why I cannot risk it. An hour earlier I received a message from my father. Someone I thought was already gone.

I thought Leo most likely took care of him. But apparently the bastard is still alive.

I pull up in the large driveway of the estate. I have a gun tucked in the belt around my waist and another strapped to my thigh under my dress.

A long red dress that I obviously put effort into.

I know there is a reason for this call.

I get out of my car and stroll up to the estate. I don't bother with knocking as I enter the building. Nobody is here. It's almost deserted.

I make my way to my fathers office where he will most likely be. And I was right. He's tied to a chair with tape over his mouth.

I smirk.

"Well, what happened here?" I ask with obvious joy. I walk over to my father and rip off the tape. He clenches his jaw and glares at me.

"Don't act like you don't fucking know," he spits.

I cross my arms and lean against his desk a few feet away. I shrug and admit, "I don't know. I just got a message from you and that was all."

My father angles his head to the side as if trying to figure me out.

This is my chance.

He's right here, begging to be killed.

"You look awfully nice. What were you expecting?" He asks.

I tap the desk once and reach for my gun, bringing it into view. "A funeral."

He chuckles.

"Your not going to kill me."

"Your right. Not right now. I want you to answer some of my question first. Doesn't matter if you die, right?"

I don't wait for a response as I ask, "why did you kill my mother?"

"I told you before, little bird," he says. "She talked back."

I shake my head.

"You aren't covering it all."

He rolls his eyes. "The bitch had it coming. What more do you need, Aveline?"

I slam the gun down on his head, anger seeping under my skin.

"Don't you dare call my mother a bitch," I snap.

My father chuckles, licking his lips as he brings his gaze back to mine.

"Such a temper, little bird. You definitely got that from me."

I ignore his sentence and think of another question I have always wanted to know the answer to.

"Why couldn't I ever make you proud? Why were you the shittiest father in the world?" I ask, leaning back against the desk again.

"What I did made you strong. I gave you strength and pain tolerance. You should really be thanking me for all I did for you," he replies.

"Wrong answer," I snap.

He blows out a breath. "You could never make me proud because I was incapable of loving you, little bird. I don't care about you. Your just a means to an end—a good thing that happened for my business and that's all."

I click the safety off of the gun and aim it at his head. Tears blur my eyes but I know they have to be connected to anger.

"Do you even fear your death?" I whisper.

"No."

I nod my head and face him with a glare. For far too long has he held things over me and hurt me to the farthest extent.

He has ruined every day of my upbringing and inflicted pain and torture upon me that no father should.

He killed my mother.

Tried to kill my little brother.

All of that rage enters my trigger finger that tenses.

"You were never anything but an asshole of a father. Do you know how much I fantasized about killing you?" I ask, stepping forward. I press the gun into his temple, using strength to push it.

He grimaces.

"Every moment I was in that chair across from you I fantasized about all the ways I can give you a slow death. I've dreamed of slitting your neck, putting a bullet in your skull, and even chopping off all of your fingers that make up the fists you used to beat me with."

I laugh humorlessly and aim the gun at his thigh.

"Fuck you, father," I spit and shoot his thigh.

He screams, breathing heavily as blood begins to seep out of the wound and drench his black slacks.

"You never deserved my mother. You never deserved me or Ink. You deserve to rot in hell, screaming in agony as you relive torture after every death," I whisper in his ear.

"If I'm in hell, little bird," he heaved out. "Then you are right beside me."

I shrug.

"Maybe so but at least I'm still human. I know where my morals stand. You don't feel an ounce of emotion except anger."

I wave the gun around. "There are so many things I have longed to say to your face. So many things."

"But honestly," I add. "I think I'll just settle with all I already said."

I shoot his other thigh unexpectedly.

I aim the gun at his face, the spot just between his eyes.

"You are nothing but a blood sucking parasite," I spit.

"And I am happy to be done with you."

And I let the bullet fucking fly.