He Murdered My Father For Her

Allyson Cote POV:

"Sleep well, Allyson. I'll be back in a bit." Archer's words, a hollow echo, faded into the night.

He left, feigning a sigh of annoyance at Kennedy's interruption, but his footsteps were quick, eager.

I heard the soft click of Kennedy' s bedroom door, then, unmistakably, their hushed whispers, followed by the sounds of their intimacy floating through the thin walls.

Each muffled moan, each soft sigh, was a hammer blow to my already shattered heart, filling me with a visceral disgust.

I pulled my pillow over my head, pressing it hard against my ears, desperate to block out the sounds, to drown out the reality.

But the images were already burned into my mind.

I lay there, trembling, until the first rays of dawn pierced through the curtains. Archer never returned.

His promise, like all the others, was nothing but ash.

I scrubbed the tears from my face, a fierce resolve hardening my features.

No more.

Not one more tear for him. He wasn' t worth it. I reached for the small, wooden bird carved by my father, a smooth, comforting weight in my palm.

It was the only thing I had left of him.

I clutched it tight, finally drifting into a fitful sleep.

A sharp bark startled me awake. My eyes snapped open. A low growl rumbled from the foot of my bed.

I sat bolt upright, heart leaping into my throat.

A monstrous creature, all muscle and teeth, with eyes like burning coals, stood there.

Archer' s Rottweiler, Hades, a beast I was terrified of.

My breath hitched.

I remembered my deeply ingrained fear of dogs, a fear Archer had once, in an act of calculated charm, pretended to help me overcome. He' d brought Hades home, promising to desensitize me, but mostly it was just another way to control me, another reason for me to depend on him.

Hades, though, wasn't just growling. He had something in his mouth.

Something small and wooden. My father's bird.

"No!" I screamed, my voice raw. Panic and a sudden, furious protectiveness surged through me, eclipsing my fear of the dog. He couldn't take that.

It was all I had left.

I scrambled out of bed, ignoring the throbbing pain in my body from the previous night's assault.

The dog bolted, my precious keepsake clamped firmly between its teeth. I scrambled after him, my bare feet pounding against the cold marble floors.

Hades led me straight to the garden, a sprawling, perfectly manicured expanse that was Kennedy' s favorite.

And there she was, lounging by the pool, a smug smile on her face. Hades wagged his tail, dropping the bird at her feet. Kennedy picked it up, her delicate fingers turning it over, a sneer twisting her lips.

"Is this it?" she drawled, her gaze flicking to me, contempt dripping from her voice. "Your precious keepsake? Looks cheap. Just like you."

Then, with a casual flick of her wrist, she hurled the wooden bird against the stone fountain.

It hit with a small crack, splitting into two jagged pieces.

My breath caught in my throat. My heart stopped.

The sudden, agonizing pain of betrayal, of desecration, was so sharp, it cleared my head of all fear. The image of my father, his kind eyes, his gentle hands carving that bird, flashed before me.

"Why?" I whispered, my voice trembling with a rage so profound it shook me to my core. "Why would you do that, Kennedy?"

She merely laughed, a high, mocking sound. "Oh, Allyson. Still so naive. What are you going to do? Run to Archer? Cry to him? He won't care. He never did."

Something snapped inside me.

All the years of humiliation, all the broken promises, all the pain and betrayal coalesced into a single, blinding fury. I lunged at her, my hand connecting with her cheek with a resounding smack.

"Give it back!" I screamed, my voice hoarse. "Give me my father's bird!"

Kennedy shrieked, clutching her cheek.

But before I could land another blow, Hades was on me. His teeth clamped down on my arm, tearing through the thin silk of my nightgown, ripping into my flesh. I barely felt it.

My mind was a red haze of rage.

A powerful force ripped me away from Kennedy.

I flew backward, hitting the stone wall with a sickening thud. The impact knocked the wind out of me, darkness swirling at the edges of my vision. My head throbbed, a dull ache blooming behind my eyes.

Archer.

It was Archer. His face was a mask of furious contempt. He'd saved Kennedy.

Again.