by Lana Grayson
I ignore Darius’s stare. “You said you took too many of your pills. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m a grown woman, Sprout. I think I can manage my own medications.”
That sharp tone again. I hardly recognized it. Darius drew her hand to his lips, gently kissing her fingers. She seemed to calm down.
I’d murder him. Cold-blooded. Raging. Uncompromising murder.
“Your mother was a little confused.” His voice stalked me, slithering like a snake through the grass and enjoying every brazen moment of his hunt. “But Bethany, some of your medications are quite potent, and you know how easy it is to accidentally take one too many. Clumsy, really.” He paused. “Fortunately, I was here to protect you.”
It wasn’t fortune.
It was threat.
He couldn’t touch me, but he could target those closest to me. My mother. Nicholas. Reed and Max. He would murder his children and harm his own wife if it meant securing the future he desired.
A future with my son.
I’d never let it happen. Darius Bennett was little more than a bad nightmare, a fleeting memory in a life scored with darkness, shadow, and pain. I survived before, and now it was far easier to withstand his evil. Especially as the safety of those I loved depended on me to stay strong.
“There are boxes in your room,” I said. “Why?”
Darius answered for her, as though my mother had no voice, as though he had the right to speak in her stead. “Great news, actually. I asked, and your mother finally accepted.”
“Accepted…what.”
Mom squeezed Darius’s hand, like they shared a sweet secret.
“This house is so lonely, Sprout, with you and…” Her voice broke. “And the boys gone. I decided it was time to leave this darkness behind and start a new phase of my life.”
I edged closer to Nicholas. “What phase?”
“I’m moving to the Bennett Estate with Darius.”
Oh, no.
Darius nodded. “I too am realizing how lonely a house can be without one’s children to fill it…at least, for the moment.”
Now I would be sick. I shook my head.
“You can’t leave the farm,” I said.
“Sprout, there’s nothing here for me.” Mom curled her hand around her coffee mug. Darius dared to wrap his arm over her shoulders, pressed his gnarled fingers into her skin. “I can’t come into the kitchen every morning, look outside, and see…”
Their graves.
But that was why someone had to be here.
For Josiah and Mike. Because the farm needed an Atwood, and not just the eternal vigil of Dad’s headstone watching over the land he worked, tended, and bled for.
My vision of Dad had been shattered in the past few months, but now I understood him more than ever. The Atwood name required hard work and sacrifice to protect the land. My family, its legacy, was fragile and defenseless on its own. Kindness and understanding and compassion didn’t protect one’s interests.
It took hatred. Violence.
Vengeance.
A daughter’s touch, even if Dad never trusted me with such responsibility.
“You can’t leave,” I said. “And you’re not moving to the Bennett Estate.”
“Your mother made her choice,” Darius said.
My chest heaved with a lost breath. “You don’t speak for her. You made the choice for her.”
His eyes darkened, thick with treachery and lacking the basic human qualities that separated man from mud. “It seems I must do that often with Atwood women.”
Nicholas still said nothing, brushing his hand against mine when I stepped forward to face the monster.
“She isn’t going,” I said.
Mom sighed. “Sarah, I respect the sentimentality, but really. You haven’t been home for so long. You wouldn’t understand. I want to be with my husband, to enjoy the time I have left.”
Limited time if she dared to trust a man like Darius Bennett.
“Please, Mom. I’m asking you to reconsider.”
“There’s no discussion. I won’t be lonely anymore, and I won’t leave Darius all alone in his big, drafty house.”
He smiled as if he could comprehend the gentleness behind the emotion. “It isn’t drafty, love.”
“Too big. Ostentatious.”
“I’ve always wanted the best for my family.” He nodded Nicholas. “For all of my sons.”
Sick, depraved bastard. My breathing ached, and every exhale stuck in my throat. Not what I needed.
Not a weakness I should have ever shown Darius.
“Sarah, my dear. You really should sit.”
I hated that tone. The false sincerity. The sing-song pretention of a demon pretending to be a father. I bit back the profanity.
Darius aimed for the kill.
“Someone in your condition shouldn’t be rushing around all hours of the morning.”
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
“What condition?” Mom worried too easily. “Sarah, is it your asthma again?”
“Yes,” I answered before Darius could. “But I’m fine.”
“Now, now.” His voice cracked like the snap of a belt over broken skin. “Sarah, this is your mother. She’ll understand.”
Mom was agitated again. She stood, burning her hands as the coffee spilled over her mug. I rushed to offer her a towel. Her eyes dulled, but she stared with that same fierce gaze I remembered as a child, when she found the hidden midterm I stashed under my bed revealing the accidental D in my eighth grade Algebra II course.
“Sarah,” she warned. “I have endured you stomping through this house, snapping at me and dishonoring my husband, your step-father. I will not tolerate you keeping secrets from me about your health. I am your mother. At least permit me the common courtesy to not speak in riddles while you stand around my kitchen table without even offering to get your brother any coffee to drink.” She exhaled. “Honestly. You have the mannerisms of your father sometimes. It’s like I’m looking at Mark.”
“Mom, it’s fine.”
“Don’t you it’s fine me, young lady. You think you know what’s best for me, but until you have a child of your own burst in and out of your life whenever she damn well pleases, you don’t get to decide what is best for me.”
“I was worried.”
“You don’t have to worry about me,” Mom said. “I have Darius now.”
Just the thought curdled my stomach. “You don’t understand.”
“He’s your father.”
“He’s not.”
Darius shrugged. “Our relationship is hard to classify, Bethany. Sarah acts defiant, but, I assure you, when we’re alone, she’s much warmer. We’ve spent some very special moments together.”
Sick bastard.
I wavered. I needed to sit. I wanted to run.
I longed for the chance to cause Darius even a moment of the misery he inflicted on me.
“A relief,” Mom said. “She’s been acting so strange lately. I don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
Darius folded his hands. “Sarah, perhaps it is best that you tell your mother.”
“Tell me, what? For pity’s sake, Darius. Is everyone keeping secrets?”
Why was he doing this? Just to watch me squirm? To destroy me? To destroy her?
I swallowed. Mom gave me her most expectant look, one that even Josiah and Mike couldn’t fight.
He planned this.
The bastard knew I’d rush home. He meant to trap me once more in my own humiliation as I revealed the pregnancy to Mom.
I considered refusing him, but my dress already felt snug. I could hide it for another month, maybe two, but she’d find out soon enough. And then she’d suffer the consequences the same as me, the same for the farm, the company.
Our future and livelihood.
But she was my mother.
And the father of my baby might have been her devoted husband.
Darius’s expression hadn’t wavered, t
he twisted empathy of a man who faked every human emotion to benefit himself and his cruelty. I wouldn’t let him gain any sick enjoyment from my hesitance. He expected me to live in shame of the child, of the rape.
The baby wasn’t his.
And the rape was in the past.
And I would never, ever let my child believe he was unwanted—not when I knew exactly how devastating that felt.
“Mom…” I wished my voice were stronger. “I have something to tell you.”
She waited. Her eyebrow perked—sass incarnate. So that’s where I got it.
“I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”
“Out with it, Sprout. I haven’t got all day.”
The words tumbled from my lips.
“I’m pregnant.”
Darius’s victorious grin sickened me. I stepped closer to Nicholas, but I didn’t accept any of his offered strength.
I survived the conception. What pain could the announcement bring?
More than I expected.
Mom’s expression twisted. Her frown etched deep into her face, darkening her new wrinkles and highlighting the grey that streaked her curls. She sunk into her chair, hands trembling.
“You’re pregnant?”
“Yes.”
I steeled myself for her reaction.
It wasn’t enough.
“You little whore.”
The disapproval rocked us all. Darius coughed. I fell backwards, colliding with an equally shocked Nicholas.
“Mom, no…”
“Little whore.”
Darius cleared his throat before leaning close. “Bethany, no. This is a good thing. Our Sarah is starting a family of her own. We should be celebrating.”
I didn’t recognize the frustration in her eyes, the harsh catch in her voice.
Oh God, I couldn’t handle disappointing her, even when it wasn’t my fault.
“Sarah, how could you be so careless? I raised you better than this.”
Careless?
She wasn’t the only one who’d assume it was carelessness.
Not that I was kidnapped and imprisoned, abused and raped.
Not that my step-father forced himself upon me, or that the man I loved, my own step-brother had…
It wasn’t carelessness.
My chest ached, blending sorrow and panic and stinging rage into a breathless gasp.
The world would never know that darkness.
“And the father?” Mom asked. “Where is he? I don’t see him standing here, holding your hand, admitting what he did to you.”
Nicholas was holding me. Darius stroked her fingers.
“This isn’t about the father,” I said. “It’s still early, Mom. I haven’t revealed it yet.”
“Oh, Sarah.” She shook her head. “There is so much to consider. Have you spoken with our attorney?”
I hedged that concern. “We don’t need to tell Anthony yet.”
“Of course we do. This company will turn on its head.” She covered her cheeks. “Oh, Lord. This will cause such strife. We hadn’t prepared for this at all, Sprout.”
“I know.”
Darius leaned close. “Now, Bethany. Surely Atwood Industries assumed this day would come. They’ve been waiting for a male heir to take the company ever since Josiah and Mike passed.”
“We never planned for it. Why would we?” Mom sighed. I tried to stop her, but the secret slipped before I could interrupt. “Sarah is supposed to be infertile.”
Goddamn it.
Darius’s jaw tensed so hard it popped.
Had we been alone, had he still trapped me within the confines of the Bennett Estate, nothing—not even the possibility of his child—would have protected me from a vicious strike.
If he hadn’t killed me for deceiving him.
Nicholas nodded to his father.
“Infertile….” Darius murmured. “How fortuitous then.”
Mom snorted, but the edge weeded from of her voice. “I suppose so. Oh, Sarah. You never did like to take the easy path, did you? Well…”
She smiled, weak, but it was there.
“A baby is a miracle, especially when we never expected to be blessed. And we are certainly in a position to accommodate a little one, despite the scandal.” She sighed. “You’ll have to join at the estate then. We’ll shield you from a bit of the talk. Besides, Darius raised his own children there before, I’m sure he would love to have a baby around again.”
I didn’t trust the darkness in his words. “Of course, darling. I’ve been planning on it.”
Too much. It was too much. I swallowed.
“I have to get going,” I said. “I just…wanted to check in on you, Mom.”
“You aren’t staying?”
So I could stare into the eyes of a man who would eagerly slice the child from my stomach once he was strong enough to live on his own? A man who threatened my mother’s life with dangerous medications? A man who’d murder all three of his sons because they defied his insanity?
No. I wasn’t staying.
And neither was she.
I would kill Darius before he dared to harm those I loved, and the only reason I didn’t dive for a knife was to spare my fragile mother the horror of witnessing yet another husband’s death.
“I’ll call you,” I said. “Check in and make sure you’re okay.”
“I’ll be fine. I have Darius to look after me.”
She gave the devil the keys to the church and waded in the ashes he cast on the altar. I backed from the kitchen, but Darius scooted out of his chair.
“I’ll walk them out.”
Mom sighed. “You’re such a sweetheart, Darius. Truly.”
Nicholas edged between us, but I didn’t let Darius get close. My vision blurred with rage as I slammed through the front door. I lifted a rock from the rose planter, but it was my own bodyguard who prevented me from slamming it across Darius’s temple.
Nicholas seized me, securing me with an arm around my waist.
“You are a monster.” I twisted against his hold. “What are you going to do? Kill my mother? Murder your own wife?”
“Nicholas, please.” Darius buttoned his suit jacket. “Control the girl. I won’t have her endangering my unborn son.”
Goddamn him! I struggled, but Nicholas’s grip was as strong as his own iron will. He faced his father with absolute silence. I hardly recognized his stoic, intimidating challenge.
“It’s not your son,” I said. “You have no right to be here, no right to control my mother.”
Darius gazed over my cornfields, stared at my barn and my machinery tending to the crops in the fields. “Soon enough, this farm will belong to the Bennetts, as it should have months ago.”
“Never.”
“I don’t mind it, actually.” He took a deep breath. “The estate is rather isolated, but this…this is a different type of peace. A shame it breeds such insolence in the children who play in its dirt. My son will need to grow and learn discipline in the estate, but I think I’ll retire here.”
“You will never take my child.”
“I’ll clear some of the…debris from the fields though.” Darius met my gaze. “Too many Atwoods poisoning the grounds. Once your father and what remains of his bastard sons are disposed of properly, this land will be suitable for the Bennetts.”
It was too much. Too cruel and too deliberate to watch me burst with the indignity and agony of my family’s deaths. I twisted, pushing against Nicholas.
Darius hadn’t broken me before.
He wouldn’t now.
“I think I’ll keep you here too, my dear,” he said. “If you agree to behave. You’ve done so well now, accepting my seed and swelling with my child. I might let you live. You can stay locked in a room here on your land. And we’ll see if that infertility was a one-time blessing. Why stop at one son when I can replace the lot of them?”
His words weren’t meant for me. He stared at his son, his eldest, his heir. He waited fo
r the moment that Nicholas would finally break and challenge him.
Nicholas said nothing, only simmered in the ravenous, feral silence of animal facing a threat.
“You can have her for now, Nicholas,” Darius said. “Take her. Care for her. Fuck her. Do whatever you wish. But understand. The estate, the companies, the fortunes are mine. I will not mourn those who defy me. Not if I have a new son to inherit both the Bennett and Atwood names.”
“This child is not yours.” Nicholas spoke with confidence, certainty.
“Nicholas, you had months to breed the girl, and nothing came from it. You’ve studied probability and statistics.” Darius leaned closer, his words meant to draw me back into the nightmare he created. “You realize she was still slick with your seed when I took her? But that doesn’t matter. I enjoyed her more times than you did that night.”
I would be sick, but Nicholas didn’t degrade himself in anger or react to Darius’s attempted humiliation.
“I plan to kill you,” Nicholas said. “Prepare for it.”
His words were not threat or promise, but the still coldness of near-premonition.
More frightening than any strike from Darius’s hand or the moments of despair under his control was the sound of Nicholas Bennett’s honest and promised vengeance, as though the graves were already dug and the crimes purged from our memories.
Darius’s cruelty cast us into shadow, but Nicholas now existed in the merciless efficiency of a wronged man protecting the ones he loved.
Not for his own satisfaction. Not to appease his sadism.
But because blood answered in blood.
And we would make the final slice.
He led me to the limo, kissed my hand, and shielded me—shielded us—from his father.
I had no doubt Nicholas would make good on his threat.
I only prayed we didn’t have to wait.
The gun rested in my suit jacket. My father lived.
I didn’t regret my decision, and I hadn’t looked in the mirror as the limo pulled from the farm.
The time would come for revenge. The money had already exchanged and my brothers prepared for the plan. In a few weeks, it would no longer matter.
Still, I coiled in rage. My father attempted to harass me. He wanted to exert what little control he held over me and my brothers by manipulating the woman we strived to protect.