The Land Where Sinners Atone

by Mason, V. F.

  But society is too pigheaded to see all this through my prism, so why even bother explaining something?

  I go toward the bed, looming above Rafe, and put my hand on top of his head.

  He startles awake, his eyes snapping open, and surprise along with happiness fills me when he understands it’s me. “You came,” he whispers, shifting a little on the pillow. “I thought it was too dangerous.”

  “It is,” I say, stroking his bandages almost reverently as memories of how he got this wound flood my mind.

  Pouring all the alcohol in the sink and controlling my gag reflex—I can’t fucking stand it after Daddy dearest devoted his life to it—I throw them one after another on the clean floor where they shatter into tiny pieces as Rafe sits on the couch with his feet tucked under him. “Are you sure this is going to work?”

  I smile at him brightly, mustering up all the warm emotions I don’t fucking feel to reflect back at him while I kick the glass in different directions with my shoes. “Of course. You just have to trust me.”

  Doubt crosses his face, but he nods, albeit sighing heavily. “She just seems so nice. I feel kind of bad for scaring her like that.” He focuses his stare on me as I rip open one of the pillows, throwing feathers everywhere around us. “Didn’t you say you hate Zachary and not Phoenix?” Annoyance zips through me, while I’m contemplating how bad it would be to just lie to Rafe and kill him tonight after all. I dismiss the idea the instant it crosses my mind, only because Phoenix is so fragile right now; it makes no sense to kill him.

  Throwing the last of the feathers, I grab a red-colored mixture that looks like blood and spread it around so the picture will be even scarier.

  Sometimes it’s not so much about the end results but the preparation for it, anticipation and excitement at the prospect of seeing how fear slowly creeps into the victim’s face, hopelessness sinking into every bone and the intensity of their pain.

  Rafe wraps his arms around his knees, hugging them to him. His good-for-nothing nature apparently decided to show its head and stop him from our original plan.

  Phoenix has this effect on people. Her natural aura of kindness and goodness makes it almost impossible to hurt her without feeling like shit for it.

  In such moments, I’m grateful I’m a psychopath—that’s what people call the likes of me, right?

  I walk slowly to Rafe and palm his head, lifting it up so our gazes meet, and he bites his lip.

  I used to find it so adorable about him, along with his puppy fascination over me.

  However, with the puppy love comes affection and attachment I don’t need or want from stupid fools like him.

  “You won’t leave me alone now will you, Rafe?” I ask, rubbing his cheeks with my thumbs, and see how they heat up. “Remember my promise? If this all goes well, we’ll be together soon.”

  “You said that the last time. When I helped you with hacking.” He casts his eyes down, breathing heavily. “You promised me four years ago we’d run away together once Phoenix’s trial was over. But we never did,” he finishes on a whisper, so pathetic in his misery. I roll my eyes but keep my voice concerned as I trap his chin between my fingers.

  I’ve put up with his nonsense ever since I picked him from among hundreds of geeks in his class to help me out with the network aspect of it all. After all, if I learned it in the open, I could have always been a suspect.

  A hunter must know how to cover his tracks in order to catch his prey and continue to do so after he has the first thrill from his first victim.

  This journey has sacrifices too.

  Fucking idiots like Rafe in exchange for their devotion being one of them.

  Forcefully shifting his attention back to me, I say, “We have to finish it before we can ride off into the sunset, darling.” Removing a lock of hair from his forehead, I pat his cheek, but not before digging my nails into his skin and making him wince. “So stop these hysterics and get on with it.”

  Rafe nods, gets up as I straighten my spine and huff in annoyance when he hugs me to his chest, rocking me in his arms as he whispers in my ear, “I love you. And I’ll always be with you.”

  Always is a big and meaningless word.

  “I couldn’t resist seeing you though,” I say to Rafe, snapping out of the memory and leaning closer to him. “You’ve done so well, Rafe.”

  He smiles weakly, nuzzling his head toward me. “I know how important it is for you.” His gaze fills with the fucking hope people still haven’t given up on.

  Fools, such fools.

  Hope only destroys you bit by bit when you pray for it and the help doesn’t come.

  “Phoenix angered me today.” His brows furrow at my abrupt change of subject. “So much, darling, that I’m afraid someone has to become collateral damage in order for me not to lose my control before the big finale.” I look into the distance, thinking about all my beautiful victims who I’ve freed from a life with their husbands.

  “I don’t understand,” he murmurs, and I run my fingers over his face, tracing my index one from his forehead to his nose and chin and then settling on his lips where I tap lightly.

  “It was inevitable anyway. I wouldn’t have left you alone in this cruel world. It will eat you alive without me.”

  “Love?” he asks with confusion and then winces as I insert the needle into a vein. “What are you doing?”

  “Sending you to a better place.” I give him a light kiss while he struggles in my hold, but I press both my hands on him, holding him in place until his heart stops beating.

  And just like that, poof, Rafe dies.

  Blowing a last kiss to his dead body, I walk to the door and slip out.

  Three more steps and I’m outside, walking around the building where there is no surveillance camera, and quickly put on a wig, sweatpants, and a sweater and hop in a nearby cab, leaving no traces behind.

  See, Daddy? I’m not a useless piece of shit you shitted.

  I’m smart.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Sex is supposed to be nothing but mutual pleasure for the parties involved.

  If you are not enjoying it, what the fuck are you even doing?

  Sex is not complicated, because it lacks emotions, only physical desire that may not know any boundaries.

  Yet sex has the power either to enhance or destroy the relationship.

  But the most important part about sex with no strings attached to it?

  To not let your heart fool you there is something more to it.

  Sex is phenomenal.

  Love though?

  Love is scary as fuck.”

  Zachary

  Zachary

  Closing the door on Emmaline’s room, I grin, thinking about her negotiation talents that should come in handy if she ever decides to follow in my footsteps and become a chief executive of the company.

  A groan slips past my lips when I rub my neck. Sitting in those fucking tiny chairs was unbearable, and I thought my legs would fall off for being numb for so long.

  My back will be sore for a long time after this.

  I could have probably saved myself from this misery and grabbed the doll from my room that I bought for her in one of her favorite toy stores, but I decided not to.

  Emmaline misses me as it is, so whenever I have a minute, I want to spend it with her so she knows she is important to me.

  I couldn’t love her more if she were biologically mine.

  I always thought fatherhood came to a man gradually as the man prepares himself for nine months and then sees his child, his heart filling with pride that something he helped create came into this world.

  And then he provides and protects this child with everything he has, because that’s the only way he is capable of showing love. At least that’s the example my father showed me.

  I couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Fatherhood hit me like a hammer to my face, and I fell in love with her the minute I saw her, the little perfect baby girl who I ha
d nothing to do with creating yet claimed as mine the minute I laid eyes on her.

  I was there through all the months of her intensive care, during nighttime feedings when she couldn’t sleep and would cry for hours until I turned on some soft music, and she’d doze off on my chest.

  She held my hand as she took her first step, and Daddy was the first word she ever spoke.

  She is the light in my life that is constant darkness. Because I can’t hold on to the people I love, how could I ever ask for forgiveness for depriving Phoenix of all those things if I don’t feel remorse for it?

  Phoenix wouldn’t have had the chance to raise her anyway; she’d have been taken away from her and put into the system where no one would’ve loved her as I do.

  I doubt Sebastian would have taken a paternity test, considering he avoided anything that had to do with his wife like the plague.

  Parenthood is a gift I will forever be grateful to Phoenix for, even if I stole it from her.

  I glance at my throbbing hand, noticing the skin around the deep cut has become puffy and red, and anytime I open my hand and close it, a little blood slips out.

  Clearly, I should have taken care of it when Phoenix offered. Maybe then her mind would have been occupied. But I didn’t, so she’s hiding in her room after witnessing us all enjoying an afternoon of make-believe tea, which was too much for her.

  I fist my hand and immediately wince when the sting travels up my arm. The fury at myself for bringing so much pain to Phoenix is eating me alive, yet I can’t tell her the truth right now.

  It might send her into a spiral—a moral breakdown—resulting in some reckless action in her attempt to take the child away. And it’s not something we can afford with the unsub hot on our heels. Her head needs to be clear of any distractions, and with the truth, she won’t be able to think rationally.

  Well, besides wanting to kill me and probably get my head on a silver platter for what I’ve done, one more sin to my never-ending pile that just keeps on building.

  A cracking sound echoes through the house, and I look toward where it’s coming from, Phoenix’s room. She opens the door and steps into the light, my fucking breath stilling in my lungs as my eyes land on her.

  Her black locks fall down her back, almost reaching her lower spine, and the purple dress she changed into loosely skims over her form, although it does nothing to mask all those curves my hands gripped last night that fit so perfectly against me.

  She is barefoot and leans her shoulder on the doorjamb, pleasure coating her voice when she says, “I bet that hurts now, huh?” She taps on her chin with her index finger. “What was it you said? It doesn’t matter.” She growls a little, imitating my words. “It’s fine.”

  Ah, my little vicious creature.

  Enjoys my misery, doesn’t she? “Being vindictive doesn’t suit you, darling.”

  “I have to take my enjoyment where I can. So ha ha.” She motions with her head to inside her room. “Come on in. I found the first aid kit under my sink.”

  She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I’m not sure what made her extend an olive branch tonight, considering she must still be pissed about the whole proposal thing, but I’m not going to question it.

  The more time I can spend in her company, the better. We can’t act as a madly-in-love couple when she avoids my every touch and rushes away when I come closer.

  Once I enter, I see the curtain billowing, since the balcony door is wide open, and the light from outside is brightening the room.

  Since Phoenix is nowhere in sight, I move farther into the room, only to blink in surprise when I spot her in the right corner where two wicker couches and a round table sit with the first aid kit and two steaming cups on it. Phoenix sits on one of the couches, her feet dangling above the floor as she swings them back and forth.

  My boots thump loudly on the marble floor as I walk toward her, rolling my shoulders back hoping to ease some tension from them. I notice a lot of fucking stars up in the sky for this time of the year.

  Maybe the universe has decided to create a romantic night for me… and I didn’t get the memo about it?

  “Should I be concerned?” I drop onto the opposite couch, groaning in pleasure when it fits my size just perfectly. I slide forward a little so my neck can rest on the upper cushion.

  Heaven.

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “You invited me inside your room, prepared all this stuff, and want to take care of my hand. Is this a trap I’m not aware of?” I take out a cigarette and lighter from inside my jacket I slipped back on. I’m about to light it up, but then I remember my manners, raising my gaze to her as she cocks her head to the side, studying me. “Do you mind?”

  “Yes.”

  Well then, I throw it next to me, abandoning the idea of forgetting myself in the momentary oblivion.

  Smoking is one of the habits I got addicted to in the last four years, finding solace in the nicotine hitting my tongue and giving me a temporary reprieve from the unbearable agony my life has represented.

  Or maybe for a moment in time, I could have escaped the man I’d become as the result of my grief.

  Generally, I never ask anyone’s opinion about it. Emmaline is my only exception, because I never smoke around her.

  However, as I find out more and more with each passing day, Phoenix is different, and on some level, it’s such a fucking inconvenience.

  Her needs, likes, and dislikes become as important to me as my own, and that’s a connection neither of us is ready for.

  What is it about this woman who has me acting like a sick fool in love, ready for everything as long as the object of his adoration looks his way?

  Phoenix wraps her hands around the mug, lifting it up to her mouth and taking a tentative sip. Her lips turn puffy from the hot contact, and my dick stirs against my zipper.

  Fuck, everything about her fucking turns me on to the point of insanity. “Green tea with mint,” she announces and extends it to me. “See? I tried it. It’s not poisoned, although the idea did cross my mind.”

  I take it from her, our fingers brushing against each other for a second, and electricity zips between us, but we both ignore it. So I ask, “What stopped you?”

  She shrugs, picking up the second mug. “Didn’t feel like going back to prison.” Tension fills the air, and I tense inwardly expecting her to lash out again. I could never stop her, because she deserves it, even if I’m not the one who put her in prison in the first place.

  Although sometimes she does act like it was me who pulled the evidence of her crime out of my ass and presented it in such a way that she got locked up.

  Sometimes, she forgets I’m also a victim in this story and not the executioner everyone tries to paint me as.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not going to bring it up. We have a truce, right?” she says and tugs her feet under her, resting her elbow on the arm of the couch. “I figured we need to talk about the validity of this marriage. Screwing this up is not an option. I want to find the unsub and put a stop to this.”

  What she really means is that she’ll finally be able to escape, not having to witness my face or even my daughter’s, because we both remind her of the things she lost.

  “I thought you wanted to treat my hand.” I wiggle it in the air.

  She replies sweetly, although amusement flashes in her eyes, “I’m enjoying my tea right now. Besides, you waited for so long; I’m sure you can hold on a bit longer, right?”

  I take a larger sip from the tea, and kick my legs up on the table, giving much-needed relief to my knees that probably will be stiff for the rest of the night. “I don’t give a fuck what people think. The only person we have to convince is that fucker.”

  Phoenix puts her mug on her knee, her fingers drumming on it, and the sound annoys me, but I say nothing, enjoying this fresh weather that has the ability to clear any fucked-up shit playing in my mind.

  Like cutting the fucker’s limbs bit by bit, showing
him that I’m not kind or gentle, torturing him for years to come as no amount of pain of his will be satisfying enough.

  “He or she is very smart, so this plan is destined to fail if you don’t have some great love story ready to deliver to the public.” She cuts through my musing and focuses her unreadable brown eyes on me. “So, Mr. Know-it-all-and-order-it-all, what kind of love story do you have in mind?”

  “Despite my hate for you, I monitored, via my contacts, if similar crimes had occurred in the country. Your words in court where you swore you hadn’t had anything to drink wouldn’t let me go. That and how Sebastian believed you at first. A husband always knows if his wife has a drinking problem, and you didn’t have those issues. So why would you risk it all of a sudden?” She freezes, not even blinking at this information, and bitter laughter slips past my lips. “That’s when I stopped drinking and actually started to think rationally. I didn’t have any other choice. Emmaline required my attention. Being an absent dad wasn’t on my agenda.” I take a sip of the tea before continuing. “About two years later, I saw enough of a pattern to doubt my conviction that you’d lied.” My mouth curves in a self-loathing smile. “Funny thing about our mind though. It always protects us. I’d probably have gone insane at the thought of you paying for the sins of someone else. So instead of seeing it as you not being guilty and trying to dig in that direction, I figured there must have been some issues with the brakes on those cars. And you must have still drank and, in such, still be guilty of the crime.” Finishing my tea with a large gulp, not caring how it burns my throat, I move the mug from hand to hand. “Then Lydia sent me the files, and the rest is history.”

  Silence falls after my words with just the owls hooting in the distance accompanied by the wind shaking the trees, the leaves rustling against each other, and I hear Phoenix’s heavy sigh before she places her mug back on the table and folds her hands. “All this doesn’t answer my question though.”

  “So impatient,” I say, throwing my empty one on the couch. “Hypothetically speaking, I could have discovered all these inconsistencies, worked toward uncovering the truth, and arrived at the conclusion that you are innocent. And then I visited you in prison to talk about it.”