by Chloe Walsh
"Don’t wake Dad," I warned. "Please. He'll panic and flail around, and then I'll panic and everything will go –"
"I won't," she assured me. "I'm putting on my coat now, baby. I'll be right over."
"Thanks, Mom," I managed to whimper as another contraction set fire to my body. "I really need you right now."
****
Chapter Sixty-Five
Hope
When my mother arrived at the cottage thirty minutes later, she walked into the bathroom to find me immersed in the biggest bubble bath known to mankind.
Her warm gray eyes landed on mine, so completely full of maternal love, and just like that, all of my previous anger and resentment towards her evaporated.
She was my mom.
And I needed my mom right now.
"I don’t know how you did this," I whispered, biting down on my lip as another contraction rolled through me. "Seriously," I grunted, casting a quick glance in her direction. "Six damn times…I feel like my body is ripping apart."
"Oh, baby," Mom soothed as she removed her coat and hat and laid them neatly on the little stool in the corner. "How far apart are the contractions?"
"They were fifteen," I moaned. "Now I think they're about eight…ugh, fuck! Mommy," I whimpered, reaching out a hand for her. "It hurts so bad."
"I know it does." She came straight to my side. "But this pain you're feeling? It's the best kind." Kneeling on the damp floor tiles, she took my hand in hers and whispered words of comfort and support. "Every pain you're feeling right now is bringing you another bit closer to meeting your baby."
"I have so much respect for you right now," I told her, relaxing once more as the pain eased. "I've seen the size of Colton's head…. I don’t know how you did it."
Mom laughed softly. "What goes in, must come out."
We stayed like that for the longest time, with me whimpering through every pain, and my mother right beside me, offering me support and comfort.
When the water grew cold, and I couldn’t stand the temperature any longer, Mom helped me to get out of the tub and dressed.
"When I was in labor with you, my water broke in your father's car," Mom explained as she helped me into the kitchen.
Lowering myself onto one of the chairs at the table, I groaned in pain; my vagina feeling like it was two seconds away from detonating like a fucking bomb.
"Keep talking," I ordered her, breathing deep and slow. "Distract me."
"It was the same with the boys," Mom quickly carried on as she pottered around my tiny kitchen, opening cupboards and pulling out some cups. "I had a caesarian section with the triplets –"
"That won't happen to me, will it?" I whimpered in fear.
"Of course not," Mom soothed as she prepared two cups of tea for us. "You are going to be perfect, honey. Absolutely perfect." Returning to the table, she placed both cups down, then took the chair to my left. "You are going to have a beautiful, healthy baby, and nothing bad is going to happen to you while you do it."
The sound of a car door slamming outside filled my ears and I balked.
"I told you not to wake Dad," I groaned.
"I didn’t," Mom promised before releasing a weary sigh. "But you know your father, sweetie. He'll want to help you."
"I just wish he was here, Mom," I choked out then, feeling my eyes well up. "I am so scared of doing this without him." Unable to stop the sob that tore out of my chest, I looked at my mother and cried, "It's not fair, Mom. It's not."
"I know it's not fair, honey," Mom whispered. "Oh, I know. And if I could change this for you, I would in a heartbeat." Taking my hand in hers, she squeezed tightly. "But this little baby demanding to be born right now? This baby is half of him." A lone tear slipped down her cheek as she said, "He'll never be gone, Hope. Not really. Because this child is his legacy, and when a father loves his child as much as I know he loved this little one, he can never truly die."
The front door creaked open, then closed with a click.
"Kyle?" Mom called out. "We're in the kitchen."
"Do you really believe that, Mom?" I whispered, wiping my face with the back of my hand.
"I honestly do," Mom confirmed. "I know that I will love my children long after death comes for me," she added, smiling.
"Well, let's put that theory into play, shall we?" a male voice stated coldly, causing me to turn towards the doorway.
And there he was, standing in the doorway, blue eyes narrowed on us.
Not my father, as we had thought.
No, those cold, soulless blue eyes could only belong to one man.
My grandfather.
****
Chapter Sixty-Six
Hope
My heart was racing so hard in my chest, I thought I might faint.
Months of silence had lured me into a false sense of security.
Or else, I just hadn't cared anymore.
After Hunter's death, I had been just about done with reality.
But now that I was staring him in the face again?
Every survival instinct inside of me had kick-started back to life.
"Girls. How long I've waited to get you two alone," David managed to wheeze before breaking into a fit of coughing.
In one hand, he held a sleek, black gun. In the other; a bloodied tissue he used to wipe his mouth.
"You should really lock that front gate," he continued to rasp. "Anyone could just walk right in on you."
"You fucking bastard," I snarled.
This was on him.
His fault.
His command.
Hunter was dead because of him.
I had lost everything because of him.
All the pain.
All the sorrow.
All.
His.
Fault.
Losing all thought for reality and logic, I dragged myself out of my chair and moved towards him, my battered heart demanding I avenge my lover, only to quickly halt in my tracks when he aimed the gun at my stomach.
Another contraction hit me then, more forceful than all the previous ones, and I cried out in agony.
"Take one more step and I'll blow what's left of that boy clean out of your stomach," David snarled, hacking violently into his tissue.
My mother was on her feet in a heartbeat, standing in front of me, shielding my body from threat, like a lioness would protect her cub.
"I see the cancer has finally caught up with you, David." Her small body was shaking, but her voice never wavered as she kept her back to me, and her eyes trained solely on him. "My prayers have finally been answered."
"Not fast enough, Delia," he wheezed, training the nozzle of the gun at my mother's chest. "As you can see, I'm very much still standing." He tilted his head to one side, studying my mother with cold eyes full of malicious intent. "Your god hasn’t worked his magic yet."
"But for how long will you be standing?" Mom countered, voice detached from all emotion. "Another day? Another week? And when you're bedridden and gasping for breath, who will be at your bedside?" She shook her head. "You will be all alone, David. All alone to choke to death on your own blood. Because you are incapable of human emotions. Because you have chased and tortured and provoked every single person with your blood running through their veins. Everyone that could have loved you now hates you, and prays at night for your death. You did that, David. You alone have brought this misery down on everyone. You are going to be all alone. You are going to die roaring, and I can't think of a better way for you to go."
"You know," he growled, tone raspy and hoarse. "Sometimes I really do question if there is any sense left inside that tiny brain of yours." He wiped his mouth with his tissue before saying, "Maybe old Jimmy beat it out of you all those years ago."
"Maybe he did," Mom agreed. "But I still have my heart, which is a lot more than can be said about you."
He laughed cruelly. "Think your heart's going to save you now?"
"Look at yourself," Mom continued, ton
e angrier than I'd ever heard. "Standing here, pointing that thing at your great-grandchild?"
"And look at you," David countered with a hiss. "Without that bulletproof husband of yours to keep you alive." His chuckled laughter quickly morphed into a cough so violent it sounded as if he was hacking up a lung.
"Don’t worry, though," he strangled out when he was able to speak again. "I won't touch your precious Kyle." David grinned widely and I heaved at the sight of the blood on his teeth. "Knowing that he's lost you both will be more than enough for me."
Another contraction rocked through my body, causing me to back up against the counter for support.
I bit down hard on my bottom lip to stop myself from screaming out, but a pained sob still broke through, resulting in my mother rushing to my side and David to laugh cruelly.
"She's in labor?" he mused before spluttering a phlegm ball into his tissue. "Well, that is an inconvenience."
"Yes, she is!" Mom snarled, shielding my body once more with hers. "Your granddaughter is in labor, and if you have a shred of humanity left in your body, you will let us go."
"And where would the pain be in that?" he sneered. "If I let you go?"
My mother shook her head in disgust. "You are beyond redemption."
"Well, luckily for me, I'm not looking for redemption," David snarled, slowly cocking back the hammer with a loud click. "I'm looking for revenge."
"That makes two of us," a male voice announced seconds before the sound of a gunshot ripped through the air.
My grandfather collapsed in a heap on the floor.
The gun he had been wielding at my mother and I skirted across my freshly polished floorboards, knocking against my shoe.
My mother quickly reached down and retrieved it.
But I couldn’t move.
Because I was staring at a ghost.
****
Chapter Sixty-Seven
Hope
I was hallucinating.
I had to be.
There was no possible way this was happening.
No other logical reason for this…for him…for all of this to be happening.
Or maybe I was dreaming?
Maybe I had dreamt this whole night up.
"Hey, Sweetheart," his hoarse voice filled my ears.
His voice.
He limped into the kitchen, gun cocked in his hand, still aimed at David who was groaning in agony on the floor.
"This isn’t real," I strangled out, shaking my head.
Staggering backwards, I clutched my swollen stomach and heaved as another contraction battered through my body.
"This isn’t real," I continued to say, groaning in agony, shaking my head, refuting this torturous hallucination. "Wake up."
His long blond hair was gone, shaved tight, but growing out a little, and the unruly beard disguised how gaunt his face had become.
But it was him.
He was here.
He was really here.
Was he?
The circles under his eyes were so dark they were almost black.
He was emaciated.
He looked like the walking dead.
But he was here.
How was he here?
"How is this happening?" I was screaming. I could hear my own voice, though it sure as hell didn’t sound like my voice. "You're here."
My voice was rising higher and higher with every word that spilled from my lips.
"Wake me up, Mom," I cried, clutching my mother like she was the last thread I had to reality. "Please, Mom, wake me up. This hurts too badly."
Mom looked absolutely dumbfounded as she stared at the man like he was a walking miracle.
"Lucky," she choked out, wide-eyed and stunned. "You were dead."
"Been there a few times lately, Lee," he replied, tone hoarse. "Have no plans on going back."
"Hu-hunter?" I strangled out, barely trusting my own mind right now. "Hunter?"
His blue eyes landed on my face then, so full of heat and life that I felt faint.
"Been through hell to get back to you, sweetheart," he said, tone gruff. "Literally."
"Lucky!" Mom shook her head in wonder. "But how…I don’t… but you're… how are you –"
"How am I here?" he croaked out. "It's a very long, very drawn out and bloody story." He rolled his shoulders and gestured to the doorway before adding, "This asshole here can fill you in."
And then in walked a grizzly looking man with greasy black hair and a matching beard.
Gonzalez?
"Aye, aye, aye, Bolillo," Gonzalez said in a thick Spanish accent. "You still calling me an asshole?"
"You killed me," Hunter shot back without missing a beat. "Anyone who kills me is an asshole in my book, G."
"Only a little," he chuckled.
"A little?" Hunter arched a brow at the man. "You shot me. Three fucking times. How 'bout I kill you a little and see how you like it?"
"You asked for my help, Bolillo, and that is what I have given you."
"Exactly," Hunter grumbled. "I asked for your help, G. Not half a dozen holes in my body."
"Three holes," Gonzalez corrected. "And I brought you back, didn’t I?"
"Hell fucking no, you didn’t bring me back, asshole," Hunter retorted. "Your doctor on demand brought me back. And then you rigged me up to a bag of blood, stuck me in the back of a goddamn cargo truck, and shipped me over the border to some shitty degenerate hospital in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. You left me in Mexico, friend. In a fucking coma for months. Where my goddamn organs were almost harvested! I'm lucky to have gotten out of that place with only a spleen missing."
"Don’t be so dramatic, Bolillo," Gonzalez laughed. "You were safe."
"Safe? You call being starved, beaten, and thrown into fighting rings when I could barely hold a blade, safe?" Hunter countered hotly. "You have a funny fucking understanding of the word safe, G."
"And yet, here you are," he countered, grinning widely. "Your enemies think you are dead. This piece of shit is close to death because he thought you were dead – because he let his guard down. And your woman is alive and well with a belly full of Bolillo." Shrugging, Gonzalez threw his hands up and said, "I see that as a glorious success, and a debt paid in full."
The sound of gurgling distracted him then, and Hunter turned his attention to David who was lying on his back as a steady stream of blood oozed from his body.
"Feel that, asshole?" Hunter hissed, standing over David, with the nozzle of his gun aimed at his forehead. "Yeah, I know you're feeling it." Hunter grinned darkly and said, "That's your body drowning itself. Doesn’t feel good, does it? That slow, aching pain? That desperate clawing need to drag air into your lungs? Won't help if you do. There's a hole in it."
He pressed his boot on David's chest and chuckled.
"Feel it, you sick son of a bitch." He pressed down harder, causing David to twitch violently. "The blood slowly leaving your body. Your pulse weakening. Feel how absolutely fucking horrifying the sensation of death is when you are in your full senses."
He crouched down beside David and shoved the barrel of the gun under his jaw. "Take it in. It could last minutes."
"You might want to step outside, ladies," Gonzalez announced with a chuckle as he leaned against the doorframe, watching on in gleeful amusement. "This is going to get bloody."
Neither one of us moved an inch.
"What was that, Davy-boy?" Hunter asked in a coaxing tone. "Did you try and say something?" He shook his head and tutted. "I wouldn’t do that if I were you. You're just gonna choke yourself quicker. Actually –" Pausing, he pulled his shirt over his head and then roughly forced the fabric into David's mouth. "You do just that."
I had to stifle a scream at the sight of Hunter's bare chest and back.
There wasn’t a slither of skin on his body unmarked
Welts, scars, bullet wounds, and huge, knife wounds dotted his body.
"Thought you killed me?" he continued to taunt, cle
arly reveling in the torture he was inflicting. "You did."
Crouching beside David's violently jerking body, he said, "But here's a tip – not that you're going to need it where you're going."
He tucked his gun into the back of his jeans before reaching into his boot and withdrawing a knife.
"The next time you kill a man?"
Hunter brought the knife down on.
"Make sure he stays dead."
And then he began to gut him from sternum to navel, ripping a gaping hole through his flesh, exposing intestines and blood.
With my mother's arms wrapped around me, I watched in a mixture of shock, fear, and gratitude as David Henderson closed his eyes for the final time, as death came for him in the most gruesome and unimaginably inhumane of ways.
"Always so bloody," Gonzalez groaned, scratching his jaw, as he looked down in amused despair. "Do you always have to make it so damn messy, Bolillo?"
Hunter shrugged nonchalantly. "Fucker got what he gave." He tossed the knife into the nearby sink and twisted his neck from side to side, clearly freeing out a knot of some sort. "We good, G?" Hunter extended his hand to the man. "We done?"
"Unfortunately, we are, Bolillo," Gonzalez grumbled, looking visible upset at the idea. He took Hunter's hand in his, then embraced him in a half-hug.
My body was shaking violently as I watched the exchange between them – as inconceivable pain attacked my cervix; the child in my womb demanding entry into a world that his or her father had just made a much safer place.
All the pain David had caused?
All the lives my paternal grandfather had taken?
All the other lives he had irrevocably altered with his poison?
He was dead.
He was truly gone.
It was finally over.
"You're here?" I sobbed, breaking away from my mother's arms.
I took a step forward and then quickly shuffled back like a skittish foal, unsure of whether I could trust my mind. "You're really here?"