Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 139803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 699(@200wpm)___ 559(@250wpm)___ 466(@300wpm)
Something in my gut told me that this was the mother fucker that destroyed my woman tonight.
“Who the fuck are you?” I snarled.
He smirked. “I think you know the answer to that.” He laughed. “I told her that she fucking belonged to me. She brought that upon herself.”
A sick, twisted smirk tilted my lips as my eyes flashed dangerously. I wanted fucking blood. His smirk fell from his lips.
He hadn’t expected my reaction. He had expected me to rage, maybe even yell at him.
He hadn’t expected me to become so fucking cold.
Pros of your father being a criminal, I guessed. He was the best dad I could ever ask for, but he sure wasn’t a fucking model citizen.
“Wrong, mother fucker,” I told him calmly as I flexed my hands at my sides. “She’s mine. She’s been mine since the moment I fucking laid my eyes on her. I’ll enjoy every moment of touching her, running my hands over her tight, toned body, gripping that perfect ass of hers, all while I remove your touch from her body for her.”
Rage twisted his features. He swung at me, but I was faster. I slammed my elbow into his face, sending him sprawling to the ground as he lost his balance. I didn’t stop. I was fucking relentless.
I knelt over him and bashed my knuckles into his face over and over. He tried stopping me, tried clawing at my wrists and neck, but I overpowered him every time.
He was weak, just like I knew he was. Only a weak son of a bitch could do what he did to Meghan.
I bashed his head into the ground, and I didn’t stop until his eyes stared lifelessly up at me and my hands were stained red with his blood.
I stood back up and shot him a disgusted look as I walked over to the water spicket in the backyard and rinsed my hands and arms off. I would get a shower in a little bit, but I needed to get rid of his body and clean the patio.
Guess I was calling my dad.
* * *
✶ ✶ ✶
* * *
“What the fuck, boy?” My dad snapped as he stepped onto my back patio with a cigarette between his lips.
I shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I grunted. And I really fucking didn’t. “Just help me, yeah?” I asked him.
My parents had never been together as I was growing up. They were a one-night-stand, but my mother was decent enough to tell my dad about me when she found out she was pregnant.
Shockingly, my dad stepped up despite the kind of man he was. He provided for me, paid my mom’s bills, and he got me every other weekend until I came to college.
Was he dad of the year? Hell no. But he was still my dad, and he still tried to be a part of my life, and I was grateful for that—always would be. Because of him, I never went without anything. If my mom needed something for me or a bill couldn’t be paid that month, he handed over the money without flinching. He never gave her a hard time.
But having my dad a part of my life had exposed me to some illegal shit at a young age. When I was fifteen, I witnessed my dad kill someone when he found I was raped when I was thirteen.
He murdered the woman with his bare hands, just as I had done Meghan’s rapist.
It was something we never spoke about. We acted as if it never happened. So, when I said I didn’t want to talk about it, I knew he would leave it alone.
“Anyone home in any of these frat houses?” he asked me.
I shook my head. We lived on a corner lot, and the frat house next door was completely empty. Not even a single light was on. I knew they would be gone until probably mid-morning the next day. They were hard core partiers.
My dad nodded. “Good,” he said gruffly. He put out his cigarette and tossed me his truck keys. “Pull my truck around,” he ordered. “I’ve got the covering over the back. We’ll put him back there, and I’ll get rid of it for you,” he said as if we were discussing what we had just had for dinner that night.
I nodded once and strode through the house. My phone pinged in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a text from Vincent.
* * *
It’s bad, Julian. You need to be here if you really fucking care about her.
* * *
My features twisted into a snarl, but I shook my head and dropped my phone back into my pocket without responding. I had shit to take care of before I could go to the hospital.
I’m coming, baby girl. Just give me time.