𝐇𝐈𝐌. (Book 2)

part 2

Sutton's clammy hands tightened in her lap. Her stomach a tangle of nerves. She tried to calm her rapidly beating heart before it burst out of her chest as she sat, rigid and unnerved, in one of the leather chairs before the large desk.

After introducing himself, Clyde escorted Sutton to his office. She hesitantly sat as he grabbed himself a drink, her body stiff and anxious, but never once did she dare to move an inch. She was far too afraid. Clyde. Why did that name sound so familiar? She scoured her brain for the answer, but her apprehensions were like a thick fog that clouded her thoughts.

Clyde returned with two glasses of a mysterious brown liquid and placed one in front of Sutton before taking his seat behind the desk. He looked so at ease. Like right there, behind the mahogany desk, in the fine leather chair, was where he belonged. This only seemed to make Sutton feel more unsettled.

She was so out of place. She would do anything to disappear at that moment.

Sutton eyed the drink before her but made no move to take it. Clyde must have noticed because he chuckled into his glass. "Don't worry, it's only whiskey," he stated, like that piece of information was going to make her want to drink it.

Sutton shifted her gaze toward him.

"Oh, let me guess, you're not a drinker." Was he teasing her? "Hmm . . . Well, that's alright, I suppose." He took another sip before putting his drink down on a coaster. The ice cubes danced in the alcohol. "It's there if you change your mind. But, no worries."

That was never going to happen.

With her guard up and ready, Sutton gazed around the room. His office was neat and posh. The smell of high-end cologne and spearmint filled the air. It was clear he was the type of men that not only took great care of himself but also his belongings. And he took very much pride in his office. His peaceful sanctuary. His space. Jessica had a room like this at their old home. It was the one room in the entire house no one else was allowed in, not even Sutton's own father. But he didn't pry. He had his private room as well.

"I imagine you must be quite confused." Sutton slanted him a glance. "Maybe even a little scared. But I can assure you; there's no need to be. I'm not going to hurt you or do anything to you, I promise." Inwardly, Sutton would've scoffed, but she was far too on edge. Clyde leaned into his chair. "Please," he began again with a calm demeanor, "ask me anything you want to know, and I'll answer as truthfully as possible."

Sure. Sure you will.

Sutton turned her attention to Clyde desk. And instantly, her heart sank into her stomach. No. . . She has to have been dreaming. Was she still asleep? No. No. Her breath caught in her throat at the picture frame that sat tauntingly before her.

It wasn't just any photo. It was a family portrait.

No, no, no. This can't be real. . . She had to have been dreaming. Had to. This kind of stuff was unreal.

Hesitantly, Sutton lifted a trembling hand and picked up the picture frame that made her blood run cold.

"Those are my boys," Clyde explained. Sutton didn't need him to tell her who they were, because she knew exactly who they were. How could she forget? Images of that night flashed before her like a rapid slideshow of horror. Tyler, Kaleb, Ashton, Colton and Spencer, they were all flooding back to her. Her worst nightmares, her deepest fears, her personal monsters. "But I'm willing to bet you already met them."

They were all dressed in their very best with Clyde towering behind them. His grip on the shoulders of both Colton and Spencer, who stood middle row with Tyler, Ashton, and Kaleb at the bottom. Their "smiles" were a cold twist of their lips.

All except Spencer that is.

He was the only one who wasn't putting up a front for the picture. The only one who wasn't even trying. Instead, he was staring off in the distance, lost in his own world.

Clyde took a slow sip from his drink. He watched Sutton's expression closely. When she shifted her gaze up at him, he could see utter dread and confusion swimming in her grey eyes. "I'm sure by now you've caught on that none of them are actually mine by blood. Anyone with eyes could see that. But they are mine. I knew that from the moment I laid eyes on each one of them."

Sutton sucked in a shaky breath as she placed the frame back down. Maybe she should take a sip of the drink after all. Or perhaps the whole damn thing.

"They didn't fit in anywhere else. No one wanted them, and they didn't even fully understand just how different my boys were from them. If they had, they'd have thrown them into a psych ward the minute they were born. Like that would solve anything." Clyde scoffed and swirled his drink around in his glass. "Sure, it would have for them. But my boys? No. It would only leave them with their own monstrous thoughts."

Sutton must have given him a look because he chuckled and nodded. "That's right. I said monstrous," he said. "I'm not naive. I knew what my boys were. They were dark and had demented thoughts—urges. I know this because I once was just like them. Young and afraid of the thoughts that occupied my mind. And I know for a fact, even terrible people could live normal lives. They just needed practice. Structure. Not medication and straight jackets. That would do nothing." Clyde seemed to catch himself babbling, and sniggered, throwing back what was left of his drink before pouring himself another.

"Anyways," he started again as he took another glance at the family portrait. "I adopted each one of them when they had nowhere else to go. Spencer was my first. Then came Colton, and much later, the others." Clyde seemed to lose himself to his thoughts, and when he managed to pull himself back, he gave Sutton a tight smile. "But that's a story for another time, I guess. Any other questions?"

Sutton looked around the room. She eyed the bookshelf and alcohol cabinet, and the many photos that lined the beige wall. When her gaze landed on a notepad that laid on his desk, she slanted Clyde a glance.

Mustering up the courage, she quickly snatched the pad and a pen. Clyde smirked. He watched silently as she scribbled something down. When she finished, she hesitated for a moment, before sliding the notepad his way.

Are you going to kill me? It read.

Clyde's smile wavered, and he slanted a stiff Sutton a glance. With a heavy sigh, he explained, "I understand my boys must have frightened you. I don't exactly know the full extent of what happened that night, though I'm certain I will soon." He gave Sutton a reassuring look. "But, I hold no ill will towards you. You were merely defending yourself. And I can respect that. In fact, I applaud that."

Sutton's brows furrowed. Really?

"Of course I do. Sutton, you managed to take down each one of my boys. And another." Taylor. . . Sutton's throat tightened. She blinked, and a scorching tear ran down the side of her cheek. She shook her head to tell Clyde it wasn't her who hurt Taylor, but he was quick to move along. "Maybe all of this happened for a reason. Perhaps, all those terrible events led us together for a reason."

Sutton swallowed. What was he talking about?

"The thought of adopting a girl never once crossed my mind before. Truthfully, it was partially because I never thought a girl could be strong enough. But, here you sit, proving me completely wrong. Oh, what a surprise you are." Clyde laughed, and Sutton silently watched the way his broad shoulders bounced, and his Adam's apple bobbed. He looked like he'd genuinely found joy in the situation. And that left a chill rolling down Sutton's spine.

Clyde's laughter slowly died down, and he focused his gaze back on Sutton, leaving her to fidget nervously. She swallowed at the intensity of his gaze.

In a much lower tone, he said, "I see what my son saw in you. But there was something else he saw, wasn't there?" He leaned forward again and seemed to examine her. "You reminded him of someone." He added, "Someone who hurt him very badly."