Breeding Justice

12. Chapter Twelve Justice

Chapter Twelve: Justice

T he sting of the ropes bit into my wrists, and the dull, throbbing ache in my shoulder dragged me fully awake. The room was small and damp, lit by a single flickering bulb overhead. I tested the bindings, wincing as the coarse rope grated against my raw skin. Skylar, Bash, SJ—were they safe? Had Bash gotten away?

I pushed the questions aside. Thinking about what I couldn’t control was a waste of time. My immediate danger was all-consuming, gnawing at my composure like a living thing. I took a deep breath, then another, trying to steady myself. The air was thick with mildew, each inhale like sucking in wet cotton.

My eyes darted around the room. Cracks webbed across the concrete walls, and water dripped from the ceiling in an agonizingly slow rhythm. I strained my ears for any sound from outside—a car, footsteps, voices—but all I got was silence. The kind of heavy, oppressive silence that made time lose meaning. I didn’t know how long I’d been here, but it didn’t matter. Every second felt like an eternity.

A sharp metallic clank echoed, and my heart jumped into my throat. The heavy door creaked open, and a tall, wiry man walked in. His self-satisfied grin made my stomach turn. He tossed a chair into the center of the room and dragged it under the bulb, sitting with his legs spread wide, hands resting lazily on his knees.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice oozing smugness, “looks like you’ve had better days.”

I said nothing, locking eyes with him. If he wanted me to flinch, he’d be disappointed. His grin widened as if my silence amused him.

“This could go a lot easier if you just talked,” he said, shrugging. “We’re not the bad guys here. We just want to know where SJ is, and what Bash is planning.”

I stayed silent. His words washed over me, meaningless noise I refused to dignify with a response. He shrugged again, the motion almost bored.

“Look, sweetheart, we know plenty already. Bash isn’t as clever as he thinks. The only reason you’re still breathing is because we believe you can help us. So why don’t you save us all some time and—”

“Go fuck yourself,” I rasped, my voice hoarse but steady.

The guard chuckled. “Cute. Real cute. But seriously, we don’t have all day. Skylar is a big boy; he can take care of himself. You, on the other hand…” He let the sentence hang, its implication curling like smoke between us.

I swallowed the fear clawing at my throat and forced myself to stay calm. If they truly knew as much as he claimed, I was screwed. But this could be a bluff—a scare tactic to break me. I had to play it smart.

“Why do you care about SJ?” I asked, keeping my tone as neutral as I could.

He leaned back in the chair, stretching. “I don’t care about SJ. But he’s the boss’ grandson.”

“He’s a baby,” I said. “He’s under my custody because his mom and his dad were power hungry psychopaths. I’m sorry Alicia let Vito down as his daughter, but that’s on me. SJ is my son, for all intents and purposes. It would be better for all of you if you left him alone.”

The wiry man took a step toward me. He was so close to me his breath tickled my skin. “I’ve heard rumors about you,” he said, his hand on my cheek. He was warm, and it was repulsive. “I’ve heard they all fuck you. Is it true?”

The question hung in the air, vile and cutting, but I refused to react. My stomach churned with disgust as his hand lingered on my cheek, his touch unwelcome and invasive. I held his gaze, my expression stone-cold, daring him to push further.

“That’s what you’re asking me?” I said, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “You’ve got me tied to a chair, and that’s what you want to know? Pathetic.”

His smirk faltered for a fraction of a second before he leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “Oh, I don’t need to ask. I already know. You think they care about you? Really care? You’re just leverage, sweetheart. A means to an end.”

I clenched my fists behind my back, the rope digging deeper into my skin as I fought the urge to lash out. He wanted to get under my skin, to make me crack. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“Leverage, huh?” I shot back, my voice low and steady. “Then I guess you should be careful, because when they come for me—and they will—you’ll be the first to go.”

He straightened, the smug grin slipping back into place like a mask. “Brave words for someone in your position. Let’s see how long that fire lasts.”

The man stepped away, pacing the room as if considering his next move. My heart pounded against my ribs, each beat echoing the mantra in my head: Don’t break. Don’t break. Don’t break.

“You know,” he said after a moment, “I could make this easier for you. One little favor, and I could convince them to let you walk out of here. No more ropes. No more pain. Just one little thing.” His eyes glinted with malice as he looked me over.

I swallowed hard, bile rising in my throat. “Go to hell.”

The man moved back, his eyes dark. “Okay. But let’s be clear. I did ask you. You’ve just made things worse on yourself.”

His hand hovered near his belt, and for a terrifying moment, I thought he might draw his weapon. It…was worse. He started undoing his belt, slowly, gleefully.

My breath hitched, the reality of his intent slamming into me like a freight train. Every nerve in my body screamed for me to fight, to claw, to bite, to do anything to stop what he thought he could take. My wrists strained against the ropes as I struggled, the raw skin splitting further, but I didn’t care. Pain didn’t matter. Fear didn’t matter.

He noticed my reaction and grinned, a predator relishing the cornered prey. “Oh, don’t start that. You’re not going anywhere.”

My heartbeat thundered in my ears, my thoughts scattering like dry leaves in a storm. Think, Justice. Focus. Find a way. My eyes darted around the room, desperate for anything I could use, any advantage I could exploit.

His belt hit the floor with a sickening clink, and he stepped closer, looming over me. “Let’s see if that fire lasts now, sweetheart.”

Adrenaline surged through me, burning hotter than my fear. My heel shot out instinctively, slamming into his knee with every ounce of strength I had. He grunted, stumbling back a step, his face contorting with shock and pain.

“You bitch!” he spat, reaching for me again.

But I wasn’t done. My chair wobbled as I leaned back, then forward, using my momentum to drive my head into his stomach. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to send him staggering into the wall behind him.

The sound of the impact echoed in the small room, and I used the chaos to twist my wrists harder against the ropes. My skin burned, and I felt the fibers start to give, but I wasn’t free yet.

He recovered quickly, rage replacing the smug confidence in his eyes. “You’re going to regret that.”

He lunged for me, but before he could get close, a deafening crash reverberated through the room. The door exploded inward, splinters flying like shrapnel, and a dark figure filled the doorway.

“Get the fuck away from her,” a voice growled, low and deadly.

My heart stuttered as the wiry man turned, his shock mirrored in my own expression.

“Bash?” I croaked, my voice barely audible over the pounding in my ears.

It was him. Bloodied, bruised, and wild-eyed, but him. His fists were clenched, his knuckles white, and his entire body radiated fury.

The wiry man didn’t have time to react before Bash closed the distance between them in three long strides. He grabbed the man by the collar and slammed him against the wall with a force that made the concrete shudder.

“You like picking on people who can’t fight back?” Bash snarled, his face inches from the other man’s. “Let’s see how you do against someone who can.”

The wiry man struggled, his hands clawing at Bash’s grip, but it was useless. Bash was relentless, his fury uncontained. He slammed the man’s head against the wall again, harder this time, and the guard went limp, crumpling to the floor like a discarded puppet.

Bash turned to me, his chest heaving, his eyes softening as they met mine. “Justice.”

I couldn’t speak, the lump in my throat making it impossible. He crossed the room in an instant, dropping to his knees in front of me. His hands trembled as he reached for the ropes, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the urgency.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he said, his voice steady and sure.

The ropes gave way under his hands, and I slumped forward, my wrists throbbing as the circulation returned. Bash caught me, his arms strong and steady around me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice cracking.

I nodded, though my body screamed otherwise. “You came,” I whispered, the words barely audible.

“I will always come for you. Always. No matter what.”

“Bash…”

“How’s the pain?”

“Bad.”

“You’ll live,” he said, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward the unconscious guard. “Let’s go. This isn’t over yet. We have to get Skylar.”

He helped me to my feet, his arm wrapped securely around my waist as we moved toward the shattered door. My legs wobbled, the pain in my shoulder flaring with every step, but I leaned on Bash, his presence a solid anchor in the storm.

As we stepped into the hallway, my thoughts turned to Skylar, SJ, and the others. This was far from over, but with Bash by my side, I felt a glimmer of hope—a faint but steady light in the suffocating darkness.

Bash Rivera was fucking furious.

He was going to kill all of these people. And I was going to help.