Page 17 of Sick Little Devotion

“We heard you out there,” Eliza speaks up again, wrapping her arms around Lilly and Briar as I take a seat on the edge of the bed. “It sounded bad. He was out there, wasn’t he? He would’ve come in here?”

“I don’t know,” I say, not wanting to scare them—not when they need to be sleeping. They’ll be going to their biological grandparents’ house to spend the weekend. They’re lucky they have that escape. They’re just not lucky enough to live there. Their grandparents are both in their early eighties, and because of that, their health isn’t in good enough condition to have full custody of the girls. But they have them every weekend.

It’s a good thing.

“We put the chair under the door like you told us to.” Lilly gestures to the desk. “We had it there when we heard him out there.”

My brows furrow. “How often has he been coming around?”

They all exchange a glance that makes my stomach knot up. I suddenly don’t give a shit about my face. The understanding I had for my mother is gone, too. I’d never let washing my own misery away prevent me from taking care of Eliza, Lilly, and Briar. They’re my biggest reason to keep going.

“How often?” I repeat the question, my voice growing sharp. “Tell me.”

“I don’t know exactly,” Eliza answers, letting out a small sigh. “He hasn’t come into the bedroom or anything, but we’ve started hearing something creaking outside. We thought it was you at first, but then he started watching us a lot more—you know, I told you.” She pauses, meeting my gaze. “So, I started doing that thing you taught us. I lock the door and put something under it to jam it.”

“Good.” I nod, though it brings me very little relief. As long as we’re all living in this hell house, I’ll always be on edge. I lean forward and wrap them all up in my arms as my mind threatens to remind me of the positive memories that once existed in these walls—back when my father was alive.

And Aiden was here.

Chapter Eight

AIDEN

I’m late. My head echoes this thought repeatedly as I slink onto the property. I don’t know why it fucking matters what time I show up, but tonight is the night. Last night, my fingers were covered with Sara’s cum, but tonight? It’ll be blood. And I want all the time I need to get it done.

The first time I killed, on Ben Grenado's orders, was tough. I spent an hour retching until my stomach was empty, not so much from pulling the trigger, but from the grim task of disposing of the body afterward, leaving no trace. But I got it done. After that, it got easier.

Almost exhilarating.

My heart pounds with anticipation at what’s to come. Even taking long, deep breaths, it doesn’t ease up. This is the night that I’m going to make everything right again for Sara. She’s going to be mine, and I’m going to get her out of this hellhole.

Aiming for the pool house, I slip through the backyard. The light isn’t on, and I hope that means the fucker is passed out. But we’ll see. I like the idea of waking him up and seeing the look of shock on his face. I also like the idea of startling an awake Ron, too. All I know is that I’m the Grim Reaper tonight. Silent. Purposeful. Deadly.

My boots make no sound on the pavement outside. There’s only one door into the small pool house, which is both a blessing and a curse. I can slip out of a window, but the place is so small, it wouldn’t matter. I’d have to kill whoever stumbled in on us.

Which is fine with me.

I try the knob of the front door and let out a silent chuckle. The pervy dipshit has left the door unlocked. Who the fuck does that? I push the door in and listen. The TV has been left on. I wonder if he’s up this late watching it or if it’s how the man manages to sleep with his conscience. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve done some fucked up shit. But prey on children?

No. This man deserves to burn in hell.

And I’m sending him there tonight.

I step inside, sliding across the tile floor. It reeks of stale smoke and booze, which is unsurprising for a man like Ron. His brother is cut from a similar cloth and is also a wife beater, but Ron is on a whole other level—and the loyalty Will shows the man is sickening. The closer I get to the single bedroom, a mere twenty feet away, the more I think about how good it’s going to feel when his guts are splattered across the white walls.

“Will?” Ron’s voice cuts through the silence. “You come to talk about what happened tonight? I-I-I’m telling you…” His voice trails off in a slur.

This motherfucker is drunk.

That’s going to ruin some of the fun. However, it doesn’t change the fact that the job still has to be done tonight. I won’t wait anymore. I can’t. I need Sara for myself. My lip tightens, my heart rattles against my ribcage, and the impending death is different than all the others I’ve caused.

“Will? I told ya, your wife baited me. She’s a damned whore.” He bursts into a hearty laugh that makes my skin crawl—and that’s saying something. It takes a really weird fuck to make me feel this way.

I follow the voice, staying silent. I hold my sawed-off shotgun by my side. I know Ron usually has a pistol in his nightstand, but he won’t find it there tonight. It’s tucked safely in my waistband. I creep through the darkness until I make it to his cracked-open bedroom door.

“Who’s there?” This time, his voice doesn’t sound nearly as confident as before, and I smile to myself. He’s unnerved, and it’s about God damned time.

I use my boot to kick the door the rest of the way open, and Ron’s eyes go wide as saucers.