Page 41 of Outlawed

“Something tells me you like that about me.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

He chuckles before he stops and crouches down, tugging at a metal loop I missed earlier. And then I get it, because I have a similar setup at the ranch. A trapdoor opens, and Austin gestures for me to go ahead of him, so I do. It’s dark, but there are emergency wall lights throughout, just enough light to illuminate the way so I don’t trip and break my neck.

It’s cold and damp down here. The little black dress I’m wearing does little to ward off the cold. I feel Austin’s hand on my back, guiding me farther, and as the temperature drops lower, it feels like it’s burning a hole through my dress. Eventually, the tunnel opens into a wider space. In that space is Porter—chained to the wall by a heavy-looking shackle. Blood slowly drips from his wrist, evidence of his struggle.

“Only one wrist? That’s risky, isn’t it? If it were me, I would probably chain him up by his wrists and ankles. Snakes have a tendency to slither away otherwise.”

Porter lifts his head, which almost seems too heavy for his shoulders, and glares at me. It doesn’t have the impact he was hoping for with the beating he’s taken.

“I’ll keep that in mind, Cece,” Austin muses, like I’m a cute five-year-old. All that’s missing is the pat on the head.

Now I’m the one glaring.

“What? I’m just saying, I’ve been doing this for a really long time, and nobody has gotten free yet. I think I’m good.”

“Said every complacent serial killer right before they got arrested.”

“Ye of little faith.”

I huff out a laugh, walk over to Austin’s guest and pull the gun from my pocket, pointing it at his forehead. “Hello, Daddy dearest. Did you miss me?”

He eyes me, but the hostility from before has been replaced with wariness. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spits.

“If you say so, Porter. In the end, it doesn’t matter. Martin Hart’s grave was exhumed today, and guess who they didn’t find?”

Panic flashes behind his eyes, but he hides it swiftly. “That has nothing to do with me.”

“Right, right. Nothing a little DNA sample won’t clear right up. Austin, you wanna grab a sample for me, you know, just to be sure?”

“Of course.”

“You motherfucker.” Porter thrashes, but Austin doesn’t give a shit. “Do you even know who he is?” he yells at me.

“Of course I do. He’s mine.”

And with that, Austin blinds him with a proud smile before whipping out a wicked-looking knife that swiftly cuts Porter’s pinky finger from his hand like it was nothing

Porter screams as Austin holds it out to me.

“A hair would have worked. I really should have been more specific.” I sigh. I look at the finger and grimace. “Why don’t you keep hold of it for me?”

He shrugs before slipping it into his pocket.

I shake my head and turn back to Porter. “Well, I suppose we can just leave you here for a few days until the results come back.”

“A few days? Try for a few months. There is always a backlog,” Austin points out.

“True.” I pretend to contemplate it, but then shrug. “Oh well. If he dies, he dies. It’s not really any skin off my nose. The rats will take care of the worst of him anyway.” Not much scared my father, but for some reason, he had a bizarre fear of rats.

“No, wait. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s far too late for that.”

“Calliope. This isn’t you.”

“How the fuck would you know what isn’t me?” I shove the gun back in my pocket before I hold my hand out and let sparks dance over it. Porter sucks in a deep breath, struggling against the shackle once more “Seems I’ve learned a lot of things since I’ve been away.”