We'll never get free

Lamb to the slaughter

What you gon' do

When there's blood in the water

The price of your greed

Is your son and your daughter

What you gon' do

When there's blood in the water

I can't get this damn song outta my head, so here's a fic! :)

Veronica Lodge had never really been a true member of what Archie, Jughead and Betty had penned; The Three Musketeers. Yeah, Archie had happily dragged her into their gang when they started dating, but she had always been on the outside looking in. Which she was perfectly comfortable with. As long as she had her boyfriend, best friend- and Jughead...she was fine. Though the thing she wasn't counting on, was one day having to choose between her father, and them. She used to call them Firefly kids. Because they were the type; living in an idealistic little town, probably catching fireflies in mason jars in their spare time. But the thing was, as well as falling in love with Archie Andrews, she had found herself falling for his friends too. There was no particular reason. Veronica just liked how their personalities clashed. Archie liked football, Betty and Jughead liked writing and journalism, and she loved fashion and cheerleading. Yet somehow, they connected.

The first day of her new life began, when Archie stopped answering his phone.

Archie hadn't been answering her calls which was definitely out of the ordinary. She was used to his mumbled, "Ron?" when she rang him at ridiculous times of the night. Except it wasn't 3am like the other times. Yet still Archie didn't pick up

That was when she'd rang Betty to ask if Archie was with her, Betty also hadn't picked up. Now that all seemed like a coincidence, right? But something had been bugging her. The fact that she hadn't seen any of her friends all day. And they always hung out. So, with trembling hands and a heavy heart, Veronica had dialled Jughead's number. Which was also dead. That wasn't a coincidence. Jughead almost always answered his phone. Like Archie, like Betty. The four of them always had that special connection. Even if they were fighting. One call. They would be there at Pops at their usual table. Except Pops wasn't where her heart had led her. Instead, she found herself going home. Her heart was in her throat.

If Archie, Betty and Jughead had been taken by some old friend of her father's, then he'd help get them back. She stepped into her father's office, expecting it to be empty. It was almost 9pm at night. Her mother and father were usually out at some fancy restaurant planning world domination.

But the office wasn't empty. Far from it in fact. Veronica found her hand grazing her neck, her fingers clutching at hr pearls. "Daddy?"

The word felt wrong. She used to speak it with such confidence. Because she believed he would keep her safe. Veronica Lodge used to love her father with every ounce of her being. Now, however, the word came out as a question, as if she was questioning if this man- this imposter...was really her father.

She hated how childish she sounded. Like she was seven years old again with damp cheeks and skinned knees after falling off her bike. Veronica felt a wave of emotions fly into her at the same time; confusion, fear and pain.

Was this some kind of sick joke? The words were on her lips, but her tongue was twisted and tangled.

She couldn't speak. She was afraid to.

Veronica could feel herself trembling, her cheeks blossoming scarlet, her chest aching with the startled breaths she was making. Her lungs were starved. She couldn't- oh god, she couldn't breathe! Veronica bit her lip so damn hard she could taste the tinge of blood in her saliva. She held herself steady and firm, her head held high. She wasn't scared. She couldn't be scared. If she was a Lodge, then she was a Lodge through and through. Her mother and father had taught her that. When she joined the family business, she accepted her family, as well as herself- as sinners. She was a sinner. Veronica had stared at herself countless times in any reflective surface, and she couldn't find herself. The girl she used to be. The oblivious rich bitch who stared right through her parents' lies and schemes. Now she was self aware without a soul; She blinked rapidly, hoping she was dreaming. Hoping this was all a fucked up dream, and she would awaken with a cry, soaked with sweat in her silk bed sheets.

But the thing about dreams? In your dreams your perception is messed up. Words appear backwards and muddled, like alphabet soup. You can't run; and when you try to, the world seems to turn to slow motion. Veronica wasn't dreaming.

Veronica held her breath. It felt real. She could see perfectly; her own face, twisted and deformed reflecting in her father's glass of champagne as he stood in front of her. Her expression was hard to look at. She hated how wide her eyes were, how her ruby red lips curled back into an almost snarl. The snarl of a wild animal. But that's the thing. She wasn't an animal? So why...why did she look like that? Was it because of what she could see? Had the real Veronica Lodge, the girl she had suppressed, come out finally- how she was truly seeing her father for what he really was? Because this...this couldn't be who she had looked up to her whole life. This man- this man was a monster.

She tested out the rest of her senses. Taste. She could taste her own blood. Smell; the distinct odour of wine and her mother's cherry lipstick. But not just that. She caught a whiff of Betty's favorite perfume. Peach and Mango. Jughead's hat that she swore carried the stink of fry grease and burgers. Veronica let out a soft breath. Normally these smells wouldn't stick out to her so much. But this was because she was searching for them, seeking them out already. Because part of her already knew. She knew her father's next plan. This was...this was too real. She thought to herself, squeezing her eyes shut. But there was no way out. She couldn't be dreaming. She felt like she was drowning, like she had sunk under the depths of Sweet Water with rocks tied to her feet. Suddenly, that scenario seemed better than this.

She would rather drown than be stood there, powerless against her own parents.

Veronica felt her feet glued to the floor, her limbs felt numb, her arms hanging limply at her sides. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, her father spoke.

"Veronica," He murmured. Hiram Lodge didn't even waver. His expression stayed the same, his lips pursed into a tight smile. But Veronica wasn't looking at her father, or more importantly; the gun in his hand. She was looking past him, and all logic was flying out of the window.

Her heart began to pound, jack-hammering in her chest. Her stomach revolted, bile climbing up her throat.

The good news was that she had found them. Her friends. The kids who had taken her in when she was the new girl. The friendship triangle of Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews and Jughead Jones. Three kids who had grown up together, spent every moment of their young lives together. And they had just let her join them, become their fourth musketeer. Veronica felt tears prick in her eyes. She didn't even realize she was shaking her head, her cheeks already damp. "No," she said softly.

"No, daddy, please.." She wanted her words to be strong, like her mother's. She wanted them to be dominant like her father's. But Veronica Lodge just sounded like the child she was. I was a helpless moan, one she instantly regretted. She was just the scared child who had signed her soul over to her own father who was a wolf in sheep's clothing, the true devil incarnate. And now she had to pay the consequences. Or rather...they did. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to dunk her head in ice water and scream until her throat was raw, until she couldn't think. Couldn't feel. Her father didn't like to make a mess. Which explained why they weren't dead yet, and in fact just- sitting there. Completely helpless and scared.

How could you, daddy? She wanted to cry. How could you do this to my friends- people I love?

But still...she couldn't move. She couldn't utter a single word. She was frozen in both body and mind, too scared to speak. Because what could she say? Veronica was a sworn Lodge. Their blood ran in her veins, kept her alive. She was to never, ever go against her parents. She had sworn to take the Lodge secrets to her grave.

Veronica managed a stumbled step forwards, nearly tripping over her heels. Her eyes first rested on the three slumped forms behind her father.

And she could tell who they were. Simply from colours that sprung out at her. Pastel pink and sunshine yellow. Betty. The girl was on her knees, her blonde hair that usually resided in a strict ponytail was dangling in her wide blue eyes. The girl was staring at her, her lips parted slightly, as if she was trying to say something. But nothing came out. Betty had her arms behind her back. Veronica felt shivers flying up and down her spine. Betty was tied up. Her father had tied Betty Cooper, her best friend, up. Veronica tried to ignore the twist of pain in the girls eyes and lips, and moved her gaze slowly to the next colour. The next slumped figure. The boy was Betty Cooper's boyfriend, and even if they were perfect together, a little part of Veronica wondered how? Betty was pastel colours and summer dresses. She was pale pink lipstick smudged on the bathroom mirrors at school. Jughead Jones was...he was a dark array of Blacks and Greys that she had to admit was pretty beautiful for him.

He was an enigma, a kid with intelligence way beyond his age. Jughead was also on his knees. He was a vivid explosion of darkness, of shadows cast over the three of them. Jughead's head was ducked, his scruffy dark hair falling in his eyes, that loose curl snaking its way down his forehead. It took a moment for Veronica to realise the boy's hat was missing.

And a little piece of her broke. The hat was Jughead's security blanket. Maybe she had teased him about it a few times, but she knew how much the scrap of wool meant to him. Seeing him without it turned her gut. Jughead wasn't looking at her, like Betty. He was instead staring at the ground, his eyes squeezed shut. Jughead too, had his arms restrained behind his back. Veronica's chest was heavy. She didn't want to look at the last slumped form. Also on his knees. Archie Andrews' colours were vivid and bright; and that's what made him fucking gorgeous. Archie was Blue and Indigo. He was glittering gold streaks across his Letterman jacket and rich velvet red hair that at that moment looked like it had been scalped. The boy was breathing heavily, his fists pressed into the soft carpet were bloodied and bruised.

"Archie?" Veronica finally managed to speak, her voice a choked sob. She tried to go to him, tried to help. She could already see herself cradling him, sweeping strands of his damp hair from his perspired forehead. But before she could, her father was stepping in front of Archie, in front of Betty and Jughead who had both lifted their heads simultaneously to stare at her in childlike bafflement, blinking in the bright light cast from the giant chandeliers hanging over them. Hiram shook his head. "No, Mija." His voice was cold and arrogant. She could sense a smug smile pulling at the man's lips. "These kids are thorns in the Lodge family's side." he said, and every word felt like someone was stabbing her repeatedly with a knife. She could almost feel the slick edge pierce her skin.

"Thorns in your side?" Jughead was speaking. He spoke like a snake, every word coming out as a hiss, spittle dribbling down his chin as he fought in the restraints. "So what, do you expect us to roll over and let you buy our whole god damn town?"

Hiram chuckled, and Veronica clenched her fists by her sides. The man walked over to Jughead, looming over him. He looked so small, so damn helpless. Veronica wanted to cry out to him, but what would she say? She was surprised that they weren't fighting back, screaming or crying out. But Veronica herself knew that Hiram Lodge could shut you up with a single look. Just a glance and your tongue was suddenly too big for your mouth and words were hard to insinuate without the utmost effort.

"How old are you again, Mr Jones?" Hiram murmured, before glancing at Archie and Betty, who had both taken on a similar stance. Even tied up, they both leant into Jughead protectively, glaring up at Hiram. "Actually, you guys too." He said. "Go on, kids. Tell me how old you are."

Veronica opened her mouth to answer for them. But Jughead caught her eye, and his lips curled, his eyes flashing. Traitor. His gaze screamed.

"I believe I asked you a question." Hiram said softly. Dangerously.

Jughead scoffed, averting his gaze from her. Veronica felt herself splinter inside. "Mentally? I'm fucking thirty five, you psychopathic-"

"Jughead." Betty said softly, nudging the other boy. She didn't need to say much more. The boy shut his mouth and glared at the ground. "We're sixteen."

Hiram nodded, turning around, offering his daughter a shark smile. Veronica winced when all three of them, Archie, Jughead and Betty frowned at her. It was like she could almost see their faith in her run dry, and the realisation they were going to die by her father's hand, settle into their minds. "Sixteen years old." Hiram said, with a short laugh. "Sixteen years old and posting ridiculous stories about me," He situated himself in front of Jughead, and with every word that popped out of his mouth, he kicked the boy hard in the gut. Hard. Jughead didn't even wince at first, but the second blow had him bending over, a startled yelp slipping from his lips. "Running newspapers," Hiram continued, this time standing in front of Betty. Veronica's nerve endings were on fire. But before she could do anything, tell her father to stop, Hiram was grabbing the girl by a scruff of her hair, lifting the squeaking girl up so they were nose to nose.

"Leave her- leave her alone!" Archie, always trying to be the hero, tried to throw himself in front of Betty.

But Hiram simply ordered his guards to surround the boy, ready to attack the red head if he so much as moved a centimeter towards the blonde girl.

With Archie out of the way, Hiram focused on his target. Betty Cooper.

"Do you understand the meaning of slander, little girl?" He hissed, before dropping Betty back onto the carpet. The girl hit the floor knees first with a quiet thud, and before Jughead could crawl over to her, he was booted again in the gut. "Stay where you are!" Hiram barked. And Jughead did. He was whining softly, cursing under his breath. But he didn't move another muscle. "As for the Andrews kid, he's just pathetic," Hiram said, standing in front of Archie. The redhead glared up at him, his brown eyes shining with tears and unkempt determination. "You will never, ever be good enough for my daughter."

Archie didn't reply. And it killed her.

"Veronica, these are bad kids." Hiram announced, and Veronica found herself nodding. She wasn't sure why. It was like she was on autopilot.

"Do you really want them as your friends?" Hiram asked, cocking his brow. "All they do is get in my way, all they do is plan against our family. Do you understand, Mija?"

Veronica didn't understand at all. Well, part of her did. Betty and Jughead just wanted the truth, and all Archie wanted was peace. But her reply was like word vomit, crawling up her throat. She could taste the acidic spit. "Yes, daddy." She said softly.

"Yes, daddy!" Jughead mocked. His voice went right through her, hitting her hard. He lifted his head, letting out a snort, leaning back and really looked at her, his eyebrows pushing together. "So what's daddy's little girl going to do next, hm?" he smiled at her, his lip was split and she could sense he was in pain. But trying hard to hide it.

Hiram cleared his throat. "Enough of the attitude." He said. But he didn't sound mad. He was more amused. "Honestly, Jughead, did you really think my daughter liked you?"

Veronica swore she caught hurt flash in Jughead's eyes, before he cast his gaze to the carpet. She found her gaze going to Archie, who was staring, his wide brown eyes almost Bambi-like, at something in Hiram's hand. Sleek black metal moulding around his fingers. Veronica sensed a scream building in her throat, clawing for a way out. Daddy was holding a gun. The words hit her word by word, slamming into her skull like a tumultuous wave. Daddy was going to use the gun. Daddy was going to kill her friends with the gun.

Hiram grinned widely at her, as if he was proud of what he had done. Kidnapped three of his daughter's closest friends and brought them to the slaughter. Veronica wondered if he wanted her to smile back, or laugh. Some kind of positive reaction. She supposed that's what she was supposed to be like.

A Lodge would stand proud and not question their father. A Lodge would watch without so much as blinking, as her father shot three of her friends. Veronica didn't smile. She didn't laugh. She just stood there, her heart beating in her ears. The Veronica she used to be, the girl who had seemed to fade away along with her morality, was gone. That Veronica would have screamed at her father by now, or tried to help her friends. But she was a shell of that girl. She was- she was a monster.

"Andrews, Jones and Cooper." Hiram said, a smile curling on his lips. "I think the town will be a breath of fresh air without them."

Veronica didn't move. She didn't breathe. Only watched.

"Veronica, honey," Hiram murmured. She blinked and found herself face to face with her father. Archie, Betty and Jughead were huddled together, sobbing. "Yes, dad?" she whispered. Part of her wanted to join the three of them, sob with them, wrap her arms around them. Hiram cleared his throat, and it was then when Veronica felt the steel cold metal being pushed into her hands. "Get rid of them."

Veronica would be lying if she said she didn't feel powerful with a gun in her hand. She had never properly held one, and the power it held- the power to end someone's life. It sent sickening rivulets of pleasure running up and down her spine.

Veronica nodded slowly. She was on autopilot again. Hiram stepped away from her, giving her a perfect shot. The three of them weren't looking at her. Betty's face was buried in the crook of Jughead's neck, and Archie had his face pressed into Jughead's shoulder. They were waiting for death, she realised. And Veronica felt a hysterical bubble of laughter climb up her throat. They knew they were going to die. At her hand.

"Be quick, Mija." Hiram ordered. "They're children from Riverdale's most influential family. This is a very big risk." He scoffed. "But it's a risk we're going to take." The man sighed, before ordering the guards; "Leave me and my daughter alone." he scratched the back of his head, his eyes flashing with annoyance. "We'll make it look like an accident. Like a shooter broke into the Pembrooke."

"Are you kidding?!" Archie choked. "What, and they didn't lay a finger on you?" The boy's voice broke. "My dad will know," he said softly. "He's not stupid."

"You're making a huge mistake." Jughead said softly. But the boy's eyes were on her. He was waiting for her to save them. Break out of the impenetrable fog she'd been trapped in and rescue them from her father. Veronica looked away, her eyes stinging. And Jughead let out a soft sob, leaning into Betty.

"Enough of the tears." Hiram rolled his eyes. "You should have thought about this before you decided to become Mystery Inc." He turned to his daughter. "Veronica?"

She nodded shakily. Veronica felt like she was dreaming, like she was walking on air. Her perception seemed to shift, and the room started to spin and rotate. She could already see scarlet painted on the walls, splashed like crimson paint. She would make a mess.

The gun was loaded. She knew that from multiple self defence classes she had taken when she was younger. Veronica held the gun expertly, her index finger resting on the trigger. It felt so right in her hand. Almost as if the gun was made for her. "Dad, can you stand back?" she said, choking out the words. Her father complied, and finally, finally! Archie looked up at her, peering through the mocha coloured eyes she had fallen in love with. Archie didn't cry or scream for mercy. He only stared at her, his teeth gritted. He was begging her with his eyes. You're not really...you're not really going to do this are you?

She simply smiled at him.

Archie only had one question on his lips; Why?

And she had one answer; Because.

Veronica Lodge had a gun, and her choice was simple. Her father or her friends?

She knew the answer already.

The next few seconds felt like time had slowed down. Veronica pivoted on her heels and faced her father, and the gun was steady in her hands. She wasn't shaking. She was smiling. Like a Lodge. The gunshots deafened her. Three of them ricocheting off of the walls in her mind. One for each. Betty, Jughead and Archie. Once the crack of the shots were no longer echoing in her mind, she was dropping to her knees. That five second gush of euphoria rushing through her, igniting her, had gone. And in its place; emptiness. Cold, dark emptiness that would swallow her whole. Until there was nothing left.

Veronica felt the gun slip from her clammy hands, and then she was crying. Tears were streaming down her face. The three kids were still huddled together on the floor, leaning into each other. As they should. And her father was on the ground, three bullets pierced him. One in the chest. One in the stomach, and one bang smack in the middle of his forehead. The first one was for hurting Betty, the second was for taking Jughead's security. And the third one? The third one was for all the times Hiram Lodge had twisted and moulded Archie's mind so he could play with it; and tried to turn the boy into a Lodge. Tried to turn him into a monster.

"Oh, oh my god," the words were spilling from her lips. Her father wasn't moving, and when she turned to her friends, Archie had lifted his head, his dark brown eyes half shut, his lips parted, his cheeks blazed red. He peered at her, confused and baffled. He really thought she was going to do it. "Archie," she was gasping his name, scared that he wouldn't reply. "Are you...oh god, are you guys okay?"

Veronica was kneeling in front of her friends before she knew what was happening, grabbing hold of their restraints and pulling them apart. Then Archie was sobbing into her chest, and she was holding him, cradling him just how she imagined it. The red head was trembling, his eyes wide, unseeing as he stared into her eyes. "Ronnie," his voice broke, and she shook her head, burying it into his matted curls. "Don't say it." She said softly. Because she knew what he was going to say. That she had killed her own father for them. The fucking Firefly kids. The three Musketeers. Archie Andrews, Betty Cooper and Jughead Jones. Veronica felt numb. Her ears were ringing. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. In the end, she did both. She held Archie as if losing her grip on him would cause him to disintegrate into atoms. Suddenly every shaky breath of his against her neck was sacred. His chest, rising and falling. It meant everything to her. She would never lose him. She would never lose any of them.

Betty and Jughead were falling into her then, and they reminded her of children, clinging onto each other for dear life. The overwhelming smell of them; fry grease and peach and mango perfume was choking her. But it had never felt so damn good.

Eventually the four of them came together in those slowed down seconds before the guards came crashing through with Hermione Lodge in tow. But Veronica paid no mind to her mother's shrill scream. Any conflict she and Jughead shared had dispersed, when he offered her a soft smile. His eyes lit up as he nuzzled into Betty, holding her close. Veronica fell into a daze, blocking out her mother's screams and let the three of them smother her for awhile. So tightly she might suffocate. The four of them stayed like that, a sobbing, quivering tangle of limbs and blood shot eyes for a long moment.

"Veronica!" Hermione was crying. "Mija, what did you do?"

She had slain the monster of course.