“That’s right. I am. And that’s what I want.”
I shake my head.
“Okay, you want to know the truth, Easton?”
I nod.
“I know you did it,” he says, getting up from behind his desk. “I know you did it because I know that you know that I ordered Dagger to get rid of your little girlfriend. She was a distraction you didn’t need. She wanted to get you away from this place. And she almost did.”
There it is.
The truth.
The man that I had suspected my father to be, but hoped that he wasn’t, is right here before me.
“You ordered him to kill her?” I whisper.
“C’mon, you knew that already. She was a bad influence. You didn’t need her in your life.”
“You never thought anyone was good enough for me.”
“Now, let’s get something straight. That’s not true. I was actually quite excited about you marrying Everly. She’s a smart girl. She knows how the game is played and she doesn’t rock the boat. She would be a good match for you. Why do you think I arranged for that little meeting you just had with her? I don’t do that for everyone, you know.”
“So why aren’t we getting married?” I ask.
My father takes a step toward me.
He is standing only a few inches away from me.
He is so close that I can feel his breath on my face.
“You killed my oldest friend, son. The one person who has been with me through everything. From the beginning of all of this. You took him away from me.”
Chapter 26 - Easton
When I try to get him to understand…
I take a step back, shaking my head.
How can I make him understand?
How can I convince him that I did not do this?
“You are right,” I say. “You are right. I did want him dead. When I found out that you ordered him to kill her, I was angry and hurt and mad as hell. At you. And at him. I vowed revenge. I plotted. I tried to think of the best way to do it. But the time never came. You see, that’s why I stayed here. That’s why I kept staying here. I thought I could have more time. I thought that if I had just waited for it, the right moment would present itself.”
My father nods.
He’s listening.
Am I getting through to him?
“The problem is that it never really did.”
“What do you mean?” he asks, furrowing his brows.
“It just never did. I never got the chance to do what I really wanted to do,” I say with a shrug. “It’s the truth.”
My father says nothing in response.
I wait for him, but nothing comes out.
Finally, I look away.
“What am I doing here then?” I ask. “Why did you bring me here?”
My father picks up the leather-bound book from his desk and walks around me.
He is a tall man who hasn’t been shrunken by age.
There is no bend in his spine.
His shoulders are broad and imposing just like they’ve always been.
“I wondered many times why you chose to come back here over and over. I know that you disapproved of this place, and yet every time I called, you came. You just couldn’t pull away. You couldn’t start your life somewhere else.”
My jaw clenches up before I can utter a word.
“I tried. I tried with Alicia.”
“Oh, c’mon, you didn’t really try,” my father mocks me. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have found out about your plans.”
“Why couldn’t you just let me go?”
“Because you are my son. And that means you are my property. For life.”
I shake my head.
“You are an extension of me. Everything you do is a reflection on me. Don’t you know that by now?”
Suddenly, I start to laugh.
It comes from somewhere deep inside of me and it catches me by as much of a surprise as it catches my father.
“If that is really true, then what the fuck does Abbott say about you?” I ask.
My father leaps toward me and wraps his hand around my throat.
I try to breathe in, but nothing comes in.
My airway is completely blocked.
“Now, listen to me, you disrespectful little shit,” my father roars into my ear. “You will not speak to me in that manner. I am your father and I am your King.”
He lets go of his grasp a little and I start to cough.
Then he yanks his hand away from me and takes a step back.
“Abbott has his demons, but you are a coward. This is the family you have, and you have turned on it every chance you got. Just like your mother.”
With the mention of her, my eyes flare up in anger.
“Oh, yeah, you don’t like me talking about her?” he asks, taking notice. “She was just like you. She disapproved of everything. She hated everything about what I was trying to build for us here. For us. For her. Not for me.”
I start to laugh again.
I should keep my mouth shut, if I know what’s good for me.
I know that.
Of course, I know that.
But I can’t.
I’ve had enough with him.
I’ve had enough with his games.
I’ve had enough with everything that this place stands for.
My mother knew the truth about this place and she hated it as much as I do.
If she were here today…I let my thoughts trail off.
I don’t know how to finish that.
I don’t know what would happen if she were here today.
“You are such a pathetic, egomaniacal fool,” I say, taking a step toward him. “I am not an extension of you. I am nothing like you. The only thing that’s a reflection of you is this place. York! The darkness and hate and anger that festers here is because of you. The rage that I feel right now is because of you. So, if you want to know what your legacy will be, look around. You are creating it right now.”
My father lunges at me again, but this time I’m ready.
I block his hands from reaching my throat and push him away from me.
Instead of taking it further, he suddenly retreats.
He holds his hands up and takes a step back.
And then he does something completely unexpected.
He begins to laugh.
His laughter is high-pitched and piercing.
It echoes around the room.
“I made this place what I wanted to make this place,” he finally says.
“And you think it’s full of darkness and hate, but you don’t see the beauty in it. The beauty for our family. The prestige. I have presidents and prime ministers of the biggest countries of the world come here and bow down to me and call me King. You think they would do that if we didn’t create a place where they could feel safe to be themselves? To enjoy themselves in privacy?”
He shakes his head as he starts to pace around the room. “Your problem is that you don’t have vision, son. You could have all of this. You and I both know that Abbott is an idiot. A hot-head. I had so much more hope for you. And that’s what I’m most disappointed with.”
“Hope for me to do what exactly?”
“To take over for me. To run this place. I really thought that you might come around to seeing things my way. But I guess you are right, I am a fool. You are just like your mother.”
“Am I supposed to take that as an insult of some sort?”
Chapter 27 - Easton
When there’s no point…
My father looks at me with a perplexed expression on his face.
Is he actually surprised that I would not take a comparison to my mother as an insult, but a compliment?
“My mother was the best thing about you,” I finally say. “She was the only good thing about you, and after she died, the only good thing about you died with her.”
“Your mother was a bitch and a liar. And you know that as much as I do. And I wa
s happy to get rid of her.”
Get rid of her? The words echo in my mind. Get rid of her?
What does he mean by that?
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” My father waves his hand and shrugs his shoulders in response to the shocked look on my face. “Oh, c’mon, you knew. I was getting tired of her and I didn’t need her in my life, criticizing me. Like what you are doing now.”
“So…you did what exactly?” I whisper.
My hands grow cold as all the blood drains away from them.
A big lump forms in the back of my throat.
I feel my whole body tense up with anger, but I keep it at bay.
I need information. I need him to tell me more.
“You know what I did,” my father says cavalierly.
The gravity of his admission doesn’t faze him a bit. It’s almost as if this is the most obvious thing ever.
“Oh, c’mon, don’t look at me like that,” he says mockingly. “What? You want me to just come right out with it and say it? Your mother was a problem. She was always a problem. She was always second guessing me, always getting in my way. Whenever I wanted to do something, try something new, her answer was always no. She was too judgmental. Too preachy. Well, one day I’d had enough.”
“But mother was sick. She had cancer. She had a long illness.”
“You are right about two of those things. yes, she was sick. Yes, it took a long time.”
I shake my head. “No, you couldn’t have…” I let the words trail off, unable to finish them. Who is this monster I call my father?
“It wasn’t that dramatic. It was a poisoning. It was supposed to be faster, but it took a few months.”
“A poisoning! And you watched her suffer? All that time?”
“I traveled a lot back then.”
I leap toward him and punch him in the mouth.
His head bounces back against the wall of books, but it takes him only a moment to regain his composure.
I don’t get the chance to get another blow in because he points the barrel of a gun in my face and presses it to my lips.
“I’m going to blow your fucking head off right now if you don’t take a step away from me.”
I raise my hands and do as he says.
“You think I’m a moron, son? You think I don’t know who the fuck you are? You killed the only friend I ever had.”
“You killed my mother!” I roar.
I make a move toward him and he shoots the gun.
A bullet whizzes past me and hits the wall.
Suddenly, I don’t care anymore.
I’m a dead man as it is and the only thing fueling me now is rage.
Rage at him for killing her.
Rage at myself for not seeing it.
Rage at everything that my life has become.
I lunge at his legs and take him down with one blow.
The gun gets knocked out of his hand.
I search the floor around me for something hard or sharp and wrap my fingers around a metal handle.
When I look up at him again, he is scrambling for the gun.
It’s only a few inches away from him.
I try to reach it myself, but there isn’t enough time.
It goes off.
The sound is deafening.
But I don’t feel a thing.
Am I in shock?
I look down at my torso and arms.
No bullet wounds.
I look down at my father. His body is limp, but still moving.
A little bit.
Struggling for breath.
That’s when I spot it.
I’m holding the metal handle in my hand.
The other side of it is a blade, which is covered in blood.
My father’s blood.
The knife is ornate and historic looking.
It has sat on top of his desk for ages, mainly used as a letter opener.
It must’ve fallen onto the floor in our tussle and that’s where I grabbed it.
“I didn’t think you had it in you, son,” my father whispers with blood coming out of his mouth.
Even with his dying breath, he’s an asshole.
I wait for him to say anything else, but he doesn’t.
He simply closes his eyes and lets go.
I jump up to my feet.
I don’t have much time.
The guards outside the door, why didn’t they come in yet?
Didn’t they hear the gun shot? And then I remember.
My father made the doors of his office soundproof for when he doesn’t want any prying eyes checking in on what he’s doing.
There are also no cameras here.
This is the most private place in the mansion, and that’s exactly why I haven’t been caught.
Yet.
The clock is ticking.
I have a moment.
I need to seize it.
I have to get away from here.
This is my opportunity.
But how? Everyone knows me.
Everyone knows I’ve been arrested.
I look around the room for something.
Anything. I need a plan.
If I can’t get a plan, then I at least need an idea.
Yes, of course!
I bend down to my father and search his pockets.
It’s not there. Why?
Where is it?
I search his desk.
Again, I don’t find it.
I search him again.
I’m more careful this time.
I check each pocket individually instead of just patting him down.
And then in the one on his left hip, I find it.
The master key.
The master key opens all rooms and cells and pretty much everything else on the whole island, at least every locked door that I know of.
Whether this will be enough to help me escape remains to be seen.
I look out of the window.
My father’s office is on the second floor, and the window swings open easily.
Much to my surprise, it’s not locked.
Below me is the eave, which goes around the side of the house along with the wraparound porch.
I lean out of the window to see if anyone is around.
There isn’t anyone on this side of the house.
Climbing out onto the eave, I assess the drop.
It’s about twelve feet down.
Not too far, but far enough that I could get hurt and twist my ankle.
If I get hurt, that’s it.
No, I can’t risk anything like that.
Holding onto the edge, I swing my feet over.
I’m just about six feet tall and this would cut the distance I have to travel down in half.
When I land on the ground, I come face-to-face with Mirabelle.
My breath jumps into my throat.
She looks surprised for a moment, but then quickly composes herself.
I don’t want to hurt her, but I’m not going to let her stop me.
Without saying a word, I walk past her.
“Easton, wait,” she pleads.
“I don’t have time for this,” I whisper.
“It’s Everly.”
Hearing her name, I can’t help but turn around.
“Where is she? I have to find her.”
“She’s…in danger. She’s with Abbott.”
Part Six
Chapter 28 - Everly
When he comes to see me…
Easton’s words ring in my ears as I walk away from him.
I want to fight the guards, I want to make our moment last longer.
I want to kiss him one more time.
And then one more time above that.
But I can’t.
They are here for me and if I fight them, I will make our goodbye that much worse.
I promised him that I won’t take my life.
I promised him that I will continue to breathe as long as he does and that promise I
intend to keep.
But to marry Abbott?
To make a life here?
No, I cannot do that.
I’ve known that for a very long time.
But what about that other thing?
The airstrip.
The opportunity to run away.
And not just run away, but to leave this place and rescue him as well?
I want to believe that I can do that, but my fears are getting the best of me.
As I get back to my room, I look at myself in the mirror, and ask myself one question.
“Can you do this, Everly?”
The girl who is looking back at me is scared.
Wide eyes.
Dry mouth.
Filled with memories of the depths of darkness that this place is capable of. And yet, there’s that glimmer of hope.
The airstrip is my hope.
Easton told me about it because it’s the only way off the island.
But can I do it?
Can I actually escape?
I inhale deeply.
Yes.
I can.
I may be scared.
I may be terrified.
But courage is not the absence of fear.
Courage is to do the thing you were going to do despite of it.
Or perhaps, in spite of it.
All I need is a plan.
I look around the room.
What should I take with me?
The bare essentials, but that would be?
I change into a pair of black yoga pants and a soft, long sleeve V-neck shirt. Also black.
I put on a pair of running shoes.
I put on a baseball hat.
Something to disguise myself, just in case.
I tie my hair up in a ponytail.
What else?
A weapon perhaps?
I search the room for something sharp but find nothing.
If I want to take a knife with me, I’m going to go downstairs and into the kitchen.
If I run into someone there, I can tell them I’m going for a run.
They can’t see me taking the knife though.
There’s no good explanation for that.
What else? I pace around the room, trying to collect my thoughts. Think strategically.
I look at myself in the mirror again.
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