Page 113 of One More Chance
Good god, I look like one of Sloane's book boyfriends.
"Fuck me, I don’t even recognize myself."
There was a pause before Charlie said, "I imagine you finally look useful. Sloane would be so proud."
I snorted. “She’d kill us both if she knew.”
"That is why I said 'proud' and not 'happy.'" I heard the smirk in his voice.
"Yeah, yeah. Preach to the choir buddy."
"Levi?" Charlie’s voice dropped back into seriousness. "You are only going to get one chance at this. Do not hesitate. Between the two of us, you are the only one who could… do this." He cleared his throat. "This is one of the reasons I conceded Sloane was safer with you."
"Yeah, well, we both know she gets better dickin’ from me anyway."
That'll shut him up.
"Levi, are you still upset I am better hung than you?"
"No," I said, my lie evident to both of us. "Size isn't everything."
We had taken the kids camping, and when nature called we answered out in the bushes away from Sloane and the kids. I couldn't help but take a peek; morbid curiosity to a question I wished I'd never had answered.
Charlie let out a low sigh, equal parts exasperated and amused. "Levi." His voice shifted again as he tried to maintain a calm I knew he didn't feel. "You are Sloane's choice. And with what you are about to do… it is a testament to a parent’s love."
I didn’t answer. Not because I disagreed. But because I was already slipping on the gloves.
Damn right, I won't hesitate.
Not when it comes to Violet or anybody I love. Not when I remembered her stuffed fox lying untouched in her room for years while Sloane tried to process the moment we realized our daughter was gone.
I tucked the burner phone into my pocket and slid the knife into its sheath. No gun: too loud, too quick, too distant. A blade gave me time to look into his eyes if he fought back. I wanted that. No, I needed that.
This wasn't revenge. This was an offering to whatever gods had granted me this second chance to fix my mistakes.
I'd spent most of my life breaking things: hearts, promises, Sloane's trust.
But tonight? Tonight I am going to unmake something that has no right breathing the same air as my children.
Outside, the storm whispered overhead. Ozone curled in my lungs. The bruised sky hung low, dark with thunder; the kind of night nightmares vanish into.
Gravel crunched under my boots as I climbed into my truck, keeping it quiet with no music to distract except for the thunder of my pulse. I needed the silence.
I parked a quarter of a mile from the meeting spot and walked through the lightly forested woods. The warehouse stood exactly as it had in my previous life; steel bones rusting into the earth, a hollow shell against a moonless sky. I waited.
Ten minutes early, headlights sliced through darkness. A car pulled in as I crouched low, my heartbeat steady now. Time stretched thin as the car rolled closer, tires crunching over gravel. The engine died. A small man stepped out. He was balding and wiry. He popped his trunk, searched the darkness, his flashlight catching rope, tape, and a tarp.
This sick fuck came prepared for her. For Violet.
I moved in, my tactical boots silent over sand and loose dirt.
My pulse quickened as I came up behind him. "Boo."
He spun around in time to meet the crowbar.
To my disappointment, he dropped instantly, a dull thud echoing through the night. I checked his pulse, making sure he'd live for what came next. His heart beat steady under my fingertips.
Still alive. Good.
