Steve punched his father across the jaw, hard.
David stumbled back, stunned.
“What was that for?” he asked, mystified.
“For everything,” Steve growled. “I don’t want to see you again, Dad. Ever.” Steve realized he made his peace with not having his father in his life after finding him in this disappointing way.
He spun on his heel and sprinted towards the prison cabins, where he knew Jane would be held.
“I have to save Jane,” he said to himself. “I have to save Jane.”
Sergeant Tim stared in disbelief at the plume of smoke that hovered above the trees, about a mile away. Above Breitenbush.
The FBI agent next to him scowled and radioed in. “You see that?” he asked.
“Moving in now,” came the static reply.
“Wait.” Sergeant Tim scrambled for a way to save the colony, to salvage the mistake that idiot, Alvin, had committed. “You’re going in this blind,” he said. “What if there are more bombs? Who set it off? We should assess the situation more carefully. It’s not smart.”
The federal agent gave him a smirk. “No offense, Sarg, but this is our rodeo. Don’t tell us how to do our jobs.”
He walked away, leaving Sergeant Tim frustrated.
Damn that fool Johnson. Why had he set off the bomb after he strictly told him not to?
Now they were all doomed. Pulling out his cell, Sergeant Tim called John Dexter’s number.
John picked up on the second ring. “Hey, Sarg.”
“John. What the hell happened over there?” Sergeant Tim spat.
“No fucking clue. It looks like Alvin offed himself, the fucking moron.”
“Well, you’re running out of time. The feds are about a mile away. Grab as many girls as you can and leave.”
“Yes, sir.”
John hung up and Sergeant Tim pocketed his phone. The feds would call in a chopper. It would be there at any moment. They were in for a shock.
Tara opened the door, stepped inside the cabin, and shut it behind her, ready for a final fight with her mother. It was time for Tara’s revenge after all these years.
Samantha shifted in the corner with a groan.
“Tara . . .” she rasped.
Tara marched over to her mother and gave her a swift kick in the ribs. Samantha fell forward, curling in on herself with a high-pitched moan.
“Bitch,” Tara spat. “I should have ended this years ago. Now that you’re here . . .” She knelt down, grabbed her mother by the root of her dirty blonde hair, and tugged her head back, forcing her to look at her. “Now I can do as I please with you.”
Samantha whimpered. “Please, Tara,” she said. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
Tara laughed, a sharp, chilling sound. “It’s too late now for pitiful apologies,” she sneered. “You should have never laid a hand on me. Never lied to me. Never sent me to that facility.”
“I was wrong,” Samantha sobbed. “I should have never treated you the way I did. I’m sorry, Tara. You know I love you.”
Tara smacked Samantha across the face. “Don’t lie to me!” she shouted. “You never loved me in your life! You did this to me.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry . . .” Samantha muttered over and over again, defending herself from Tara’s attack.
Tara shook her head. “You’re pathetic,” she said. “Death would be a better fate for you.”
Samantha squeaked.
Tara kicked her again and again, sending her flying back into the wall. Slowly, she kneeled, tracing a finger along her mother’s terrified face. “I so wanted to love you,” Tara whispered.
Tara lowered her hand to Samantha’s throat and squeezed.
Samantha brought her boney hands to Tara’s, trying to pry it off.
Tara only added her other hand, clamping it on her mother’s pale neck. Samantha choked and turned purple, trying to pull in a breath, but none came. She began to kick and twist, but she was so frail, so weak. She no longer had enough energy to fight.
Tara stared into her mother’s bulging eyes, taking pleasure in choking the life out of the woman who nearly beat her to death every weekend.
The door burst open and John strode in. Tara growled and released her mother, letting her fall back, gasping for air.
“What the hell are you doing?” John snapped. “You haven’t killed her yet? I’ve been looking for you. Did you hear the bomb go off?”
Tara nodded. “I assumed David was dead. I thought I’d make death a trend today,” she said, shooting a look at her mother.
John took Tara by the shoulders and shook her.
“The feds are nearby. That explosion fucking blew our cover. They’re on their way now.”
Fear soared into Tara’s throat. “Fuck,” she said. “We have to get out of here.”
“Not before killing David and Steve first,” John said darkly. “They will get away, David is a master at disappearing. He’ll start up somewhere else. We have to take him down. Now or never. I need to end him. Steve needs to get what he deserves for putting me away. You know this.”
Tara gritted her teeth. “Why the hell did the bomb go off if David wasn’t around?”
“How the fuck do I know?” John exploded. “But he wasn’t home when it went off.”
“We’re too late, then,” Tara said bitterly. “He’s probably long gone now that he knows someone is trying to kill him.”
John rubbed his chin. He scowled at Tara’s mother, who lay on the floor, whimpering. “Jane,” he said. “That bitch we had to drag along. Steve won’t leave without her. We could use him as a bargaining chip and her as bait.”
“Please,” Tara drawled. “David doesn’t really care about Steve.”
“We’ll see,” John said. He pulled her arm, dragging her out of the cabin. “Let’s find Jane. Hopefully she’s still in the cabin where we left her.”
“And then what?” Tara asked.
John grinned. “Then we wait for Steve.”
19
The Fight
Jane heard the explosions and fell to the ground as the cabin shook.
She frantically ran to the door
