I exit their backyard with Nixon hot on my heels. He doesn’t say anything, and that’s wise of him. I think he senses the emptiness inside me. Recognizes it. It intrigues him. I’ve never met another person like me before, and I’ve never wanted to. It’s hard enough wading through the void inside myself and learning to tame the urges. Knowing someone else who’s fighting the same battle and not having control over them would be frightening if I could feel fear. Control is something I seek and want, and everyone can be controlled if you really want to dissect their psyche and find the trigger inside them.

Everyone but me and people like me.

We’re the superior beings not controlled by our emotions. Some people will say I’m acting out of emotion now. The love I’ve lost for Rowan. But it’s not true—it’s just that I refuse to lose to a man like Eric fucking Pearson. He wronged me on a level I can’t ignore. I’m just not built that way.

“You okay with him taking what you want?” I ask Nixon. What’s fucking mine.

He shrugs, and I want to laugh because I see it there in his eyes. The rage. I want to coax it out of him, send him spiraling into a murderous wrath, but Rowan’s moans sound out into the air and my hands twitch. Nixon’s face falls, and a cloud overcomes his features. Perhaps the affection for Rowan isn’t faked on his part. When they get louder just inside the gate, bile forms in my throat, and Nixon storms off in the opposite direction of the house.

This ends today.

Eric Pearson ends today.

* * *

Grabbing the shovel from the basement, I get to work in the backyard. The sun is hot and blisters my skin, but I don’t stop. I dig and dig. I’ve done this before.

Déjà vu, motherfucker.

Sweat coats every inch of my skin, and my mind focuses on turning this mud out until my shovel hits its goal.

The laughter and noise from next door soon falls silent, and the sun gives way to dark clouds. The sky opens up, pelting down droplets of rain. It crashes over my skin, soothing the blisters from the sunburn.

I can’t believe it has come down to this. I never expected betrayal from Rowan, but she has her mother’s blood coursing through her veins. I should have realized it was inevitable.

Thoughts of her mother filter into my mind.

She was my first kill. It was sloppy and impulsive. I’d met her in a bar. I was on a conference trip and staying at a hotel. I hated those events, but money gains you privilege in life, so establishing myself with wealth was always in my plan. I would then relocate to somewhere off the grid and enter the dark web to pay to have my fantasies fulfilled. I’d heard of an underground organization located in Russia where the more money you have, the darker your requests can be. I never planned on becoming what I am. But she forced my hand. I gave it all up for Rowan.

Her mother approached me that night and seduced me. I’d always been an awkward teen. Teased and mocked throughout high school. It took time for me to understand I was different. Better than them. I grew into my features, and my body formed nicely with exercise, but I’d never really test-drove my new appearance.

Until Rowan’s mother.

She gave me all her attention, laughed at things I said, and ignored every other person who approached her that night. She had picked me, and I liked that. I felt alive for the first time in my life. The idea of her pupils dilating under my throttling hands and her gasping for air as I cocooned her body beneath mine raced through my thoughts and heated my flesh. Toxins from the alcohol danced in my veins, and when she suggested we go to my room, I was buzzing with so many different needs, I almost ran to the room. She showed me things I’d only seen on porn sites. Her mouth touched every part of me. But when she climbed over me and lowered her body onto my cock, I felt so overpowered and conquered. I hated it. When I flipped her onto her back and smothered her mouth with my palm, a flood of adrenaline washed through me so powerful, I came on the spot. Red veins popped in her eyes and her chest slowed under mine. I knew she was dying. If I’d held on for just a couple more seconds, I knew she would perish. I pulled back, sighing as she inhaled air and then began laughing hysterically. I climbed from the bed and backed up against the wall, shocked by her amusement.

“I had no idea you’d be a freaky one. Fuck, didn’t think you’d let me up. I charge extra for you coming inside me by the way,” she announced, smirking and shaking her head.

I felt like that school kid being mocked in the locker room. Overlooked by the popular girls. I couldn’t move. She found my wallet and emptied it. Threw her clothes on and left me there. Her face haunted me for months afterwards, and then one day, while back in that town, I saw her leaving a gas station. It was fate. The hate and rage I’d built up over that time bubbled to the surface. I was moving without registering what was happening. Her back was to me, and all I had in my hand were my car keys. It was dark and barren. No one around. No one to witness. I fisted my keys, slipping my house key between my fingers, then I wrapped an arm around her chest and stabbed her in the neck. Hard jabs to puncture the skin.

The flesh on the neck is thin, and the artery is right there in offering. It was then I saw her bump. A baby growing inside her. All the power and rush I’d felt as the metal of my key broke her skin and the crimson river emptied from her neck drained from me. She was pregnant. My mind counted the months, and fate turned out to be a cruel cunt. I knew I had a small slither of time to get that child out of her before they both died. It was messy, and when I cut her stomach open in the back of my car and pulled a living being from her body, my world changed. I’d been rough, and the baby girl had a cut running across the top of her head. But it wasn’t life threatening, and her hair would grow to cover that. I wrapped her in my jacket and drove the car to the salvage yard with Rowan in the passenger seat covered in her mother’s blood.

The crusher destroyed the evidence for me. A name change, different location, and I was someone new. A father. My lust for the kill didn’t wane, but I learned so much about myself because of Rowan’s mother. And now it’s come down to this.

Waltzing back inside the house, I open the safe and take out the gun I keep in there. I’m not a fan of guns. The noise is jarring and too easy, but for this occasion, it will do.

I make sure it’s loaded and head next door. The front door is unlocked and the lights are on, but I don’t encounter anyone downstairs. I don’t venture upstairs where I hear the boys jeering and laughing at something playing on a television set.

One quick glance, and I locate Eric. I see him through the glass of the French doors leading onto his patio. Rowan is on his lap. I raise the gun and make my way out there. He startles when Rowan gasps and jumps up, holding her hands out.

“Daddy! What are you doing?” she shrieks, her voice wobbling.

I shake my head. “Look who’s back to being Daddy,” I mock, staring straight into the eyes of the man who’s made my castle tumble down around me. I didn’t think this would be the way I’d be caught—be the way Rowan learns who her Daddy really is.

“A bit over the top, Jaxson. Let’s calm the fuck down and put the gun away,” Eric attempts to placate, trying to keep his cool demeanor. But I see the fear flickering in his steely eyes. I can fucking smell it on him.

“Shut your mouth and move,” I instruct, my tone cold and unyielding.

He gets up and holds his hands up in surrender, but laughs like I’m joking.

Does he not realize the danger he’s toying with?

“Jax,” he says, and I hear the plea in his use of the name I’ve been telling him to use for years.

Tears are streaming down Rowan’s face, matching the rain dancing over the grounds around us. I must look as crazed as I feel, covered in mud and soaking wet, holding a gun.

Anyone else would see the danger before them, but Eric still thinks this is a game he can win. “My boys are all here,” he hisses, anger quaking his voice. “Do you think you can get away with this?”

“Unless you want me to shoot your brains out here and then pay those boys a visit, I’d start fucking moving,” I warn.

“Fine. Where are we going?” he demands, gritting his teeth. He keeps looking over at Rowan, who is shaking from head to toe.

“My yard.”

“Daddy?” Rowan cries.

I glare at her, imploring for my love to return to me, to see the baby she once was, but she’s been selfish and entitled. She cut out my hollow heart and destroyed it when she chose this loser over me.

“He’s your daddy now, remember?” I tell her, expressionless. I jerk my hand with the gun in its grip, gesturing for Eric to start moving.

He begins walking, and I keep the gun aimed at the back of his head as I follow behind him. Rowan sniffles, pleading with a murmured, “Sorry. Please. I’m sorry.”

It’s too late for sorry, sweetheart.

“You’ve made your point, Jaxson,” Eric growls, the rain saturating him. What a foolish fucking man he is. He really thinks I would allow this? His feet falter when they reach my back gate, but a hard shove, and he stumbles forward.

“What the fuck?” he bellows as the view of an open grave is laid out before him.

“Oh my God! Daddy! What is this? You’ve gone crazy!” Rowan screeches.

She’s wrong. I haven’t gone crazy. I’ve never thought so clearly in my entire life. There’s no hesitation. I know what needs to happen, and what is going to happen. She will come face to face with the reality I’ve always kept hidden from her.

“I love him. I love him. I’m eighteen!” she screams, like it makes a difference. She loves him. What a joke.

“Move,” I bark as Eric slows, his feet slipping on the now wet mud. The rain isn’t letting up, and neither am I.

“Is it because you don’t have anyone? No one left to love you?” Rowan shrieks. And then laughter, just like her mother. “You have to let me grow up, Dad.”

I ignore her, giving Eric all my attention. He’s right on the cusp of toppling into the grave I created over six years ago. “What the…?” His words fail him. He turns to look at me, his eyes wide, water cascading down him, flattening his usually styled hair. He looks just like I’ve always seen him: a drowned rat.

“Who the hell is that?” he chokes, real emotion for once in his goddamn life in his voice.

“Someone you’ve been looking for. Say hello to your wife.” I grin, and relish as the horror drains all the life from him before I pull the trigger. The crack pierces the air, followed by a blood-curdling scream from Rowan. Blood spatter hits me in the face, and washes away with the rain as Eric fucking Pearson’s body collapses into the grave on top of the bones of his wife.

I win, motherfucker.

Rowan heaves and vomits. She’s on her knees, shock ravishing her body and mind. “You killed him!” She lurches, looking down into the grave.

Screams echo through the night as she points down into the grave.

“Is that really Julia?” she sobs. “You killed his wife? Their mother?”

“I should have never cut you out of your mother,” I spit.

Just as I’m about to turn and leave, Nixon comes barreling toward me, crashing into me. We both slip on the wet mud and fall to the ground. He lands a blow to my jaw, catching me off guard. It takes me a few seconds to recover and shove him off my body. He’s weak compared to me, because he’s only sixteen, but like me, he doesn’t show fear. He’s coming back at me, but freezes when I point the gun at him. I grin as I tease the trigger, but he bolts forward, smacking my hand, causing my finger to squeeze and the gun to fire off a round. We squabble for a few seconds, then I hit him across the nose with the butt of the gun, feeling it crunch under my blow. He stumbles back, bringing his hand up to survey the damage. Blood dribbles from his nose, and he smirks, the blood dripping into his mouth covering his white teeth. He looks crazed. It’s then I notice Rowan laying on her back gasping for air, the rain coating her body in its punishing terrain.

A dark red patch spreads out across the material of her dress.

More Pearson boys rush into my yard, their gazes taking in the scene and rushing to Rowan. The bullet must have hit her. Our entire life together flickers like an old movie through my mind.

“Call a fucking ambulance. Stay with us, Rowan. Look at me.” They all try to coach her at once.

“He killed us,” she coughs, holding a hand to her stomach. “He’s killed our baby.”

Baby? What the fuck does she mean?

“No,” Brock snaps. “You’re fine. It will be fine.”

Baby? She’s not pregnant. Fate wouldn’t be that fucking cruel.

“An ambulance is coming. Hold on,” Camden, the youngest Pearson, cries out.

I fade into the night. She belongs to them now. And I’m free to be who I am. No more hiding behind the title of Father. Jaxson Wheeler died this night alongside Eric Pearson. And a new man was born in his wake.

Nixon jumps up and gives chase. I find myself running until I’m clear from the house, and then I slow and turn to see him see coming for me. His feet are sluggish, and he glares at me. Black nothingness staring into me, seeking out the monster he knows.

“I don’t want to kill you,” I tell him honestly, still holding the gun I used on his father.

“You shot Rowan,” he bellows. “She’s your damn daughter.”

“She caught a stray bullet. I only wanted Eric.”

“He’s my father,” he growls. “You think I won’t avenge him?”

A smirk curls my lip. “You don’t give a shit about him. And we both know he’s not your father. Perhaps you should ask Uncle Trevor if he knows who your real daddy is.”

A slight flinch alters his face, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him affected by my words.

“If she dies, I’ll come for you,” he warns, and it’s endearing in a fucked up sort of way.

“You love her?” I ask. The roads are quiet, and I wonder how long it will take for the ambulance to arrive.

“I feel things for her, but we both know we don’t love anything.”

And there it is. We are the same.

“Take care, Nixon. Don’t make the mistakes I did,” I urge him.

And then, I’m gone.