34. Remy
Chapter thirty-four
Remy
“She’s safe.”
I stare at Kent for a minute, not sure I heard him or if I just hallucinated that. He’s nodding, his face serious as he stands, letting out a long sigh. “Dimitri is on the ground. He’ll be with her in ten minutes or less. Massarini has her.”
All at once, all of the rage and fear that has been building up in me, doubling with each second that I imagined her slipping away from me, wooshes away from me. It happens so fast that I get a head rush and have to drop my head to abate the sudden dizziness as I drop back into the chair I started to rise from.
“You crying?” Wes mocks, chuckling. “That’s cute.”
“I’m not crying, fuckface. And I don’t have any use for you anymore, so you should watch your back as we get off the jet. My knife may just slip between your ribs.”
“Your girl turned you into a knife man?” He muses, not the least bothered by my threat. “She is particularly stabby. I’ve never known a woman to like knives as much as her.”
“You’d like them too if it gave you power over a limp dick man who uses you for his own enjoyment.”
“Bold of you to assume I haven’t needed power over a limp dick man before.” He taunts, plucking at his collar. “You’ve had it so easy your whole life, Boudreaux, and you don’t even see it.”
“Easy?” I snort. “Nothing about my life has been easy.”
“Sure.”
“There you go,” Wes laughs. It’s a derisive sound aimed to get under my skin, to spoil the relief I feel at the news that Claire is safe. “Always trying to play the victim, the martyr. You don’t even know what a real victim is.”
I’m not sure exactly which part triggers me to jump to my feet, ready to pummel him into the seat he’s in, because I’m on my feet before the last word even makes it past his lips.
“I don’t know what a real victim is?” I laugh too, matching him like for like. “Tell that to the sixty refugees under my care.” It occurs to me that it’s a lie—I haven’t cared for them at all—but I don’t backtrack. “Tell that to the men and women who were kept like cattle to be used for some sick, rich fucks to play with.” My voice cracks, and I work to get air through my nose. “I thought what I knew was bad and it’s only gotten so much fucking worse! I don’t know how, but it did.”
My stomach roils at the stench in Davos’ prison cells, at the a la carte menu emblazoned in my mind, at the sight of Kaia taking her last struggling breaths, the girl who John Smith had been violating from childhood. I’d thought it couldn’t get any worse than that, but it got worse in a different way. Meeting Violet, hearing Wes’ claim about what they did to her mother—to Claire’s mother. Ripping a child from its mother’s womb, let alone two children, and selling it off while its mother laid dying is a type of despicable my brain hasn’t even wrapped around yet.
Maybe because it’s not true.
This is Wes, after all. I have no reason to trust him, and every reason to hate him. He could have made the whole story up to fuck with my head. But even if he did, it can’t account for the fact that Violet exists, and she’s clearly a carbon copy of the woman I’d risk it all for.
“You found the castle?” His voice is quiet, almost awed, as he stares at me. “Did Army Ken Doll over there help with that?”
“Kent.” He corrects, enunciating the T. “And I sure as fuck did.”
“Sorry about your little playground.” I roll my eyes at him.
To my surprise, Wes doesn’t look angry. “Not my playground.” He shrugs. “I’ve never been there, but I can tell you, you just pissed off a lot of people. That target on your back is getting real big, brother. Even with new friends to watch your back for you, you’re playing with fire.”
“And I’ll let it burn me if it consumes the rest of it, too.”
“See? That’s your problem.” He drags a hand over his face, exasperated. “Exactly what I said… fucking martyr.”
“I’m not a martyr. I just care more about other people than myself.”
“What you are too stupid to understand, little brother, is that it’s not about you . It’s about the people you care about most. Tell me you aren’t in love with Claire.”
“I missed where you became my therapist.” I snap. “You charging for this sage advice?”
“Nah, let’s call it couples therapy. Army Ken Doll can play the role of therapist for us.”
“I’m good.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I sink back into my chair and check my watch. We have to be getting close. I only have to tolerate his incessant arrogance for a little while longer and then…
And then I’ll let him walk away and never see him again. I’d kill him if he weren’t Violet’s only person. I know nothing about her, and I’m not sure I want to, but she seems to trust him. I shift my focus to her as Wes watches me, his eyes following my line of sight.
“Beautiful, isn’t she?” He grins, looking proud of himself as if he has anything to do with that.
“Just wondering how you brainwashed her into trusting you.”
“I didn’t brainwash her. Our union was arranged.”
“Mmm.” I nod, uninterested despite the fact that I want to know more.
“Would you believe she is my father’s leftovers?” I bristle at the callous admission. “It’s a funny story, actually. See, my father didn’t raise me, but he made sure I was raised to be a surgeon. Doctors can be tricky in this line of work, you know, cause they’re an empathetic lot. ‘Do no harm’ and all that. It’s far easier to train them, to build them from scratch, than it is to convert them. So, I became the best in my class. Was I seeking his approval by being the best? Maybe.” He chuckles, glancing at Kent. “Army Ken, why aren’t you writing this down?”
“You need more help than I can give.” Kent deadpans, shaking his head.
Wes nods his agreement before turning back to me with a shrug. “I liked it, though. I like that moment of having your hands in someone, feeling their life force all around you, knowing that in that moment, you’re their only God. A slip of the scalpel and they’re dead. Knick the wrong artery and the lights don’t come back on. Deprive them of oxygen too long and their brain can turn off even when the rest of them stays warm. Plenty of men like warm cunt that they can have whenever they want without having to deal with all the whining.”
“Jesus Christ.” Kent groans, tapping his knuckles against his brow, trying to control himself. Wes glances at him but doesn’t stop him.
“I was a good surgeon. Then Claire fucking stabbed me through the hand…” he lifts his palm, showing the slight slope of his fingers. I hadn’t noticed, but they tremble a little, as if he can’t splay his hand open all the way. “I’d have been okay with a good surgeon, but it was days before I got medical help. By that time, I had nerve damage I can’t reverse. I thought maybe that meant my career was over, but you know what my dad did? He made me get back on the horse.”
“Violet was my first patient when I got back. She was already prepped, I didn’t know anything about her other than the surgery I was to perform. I never even looked at her face the whole time… didn’t need to, to take out her uterus.”
I feel Kent’s eyes slide to me, assessing my reaction. But I already know that sterilization is forced upon some of their captives. It keeps them from getting distracted , my father had explained once. If they’re not being bred, they don’t need it anyway .
“So, she was special to him.”
“ Was .” Wes nods. “He loved those strong genes they got from their mother. He wanted to breed Violet—I bet he would have done the same with Claire if he’d actually gotten his hands on her, regardless of how much money it cost him. Only problem is, Violet never got knocked up. His other whores did, though. Oh yeah, we have lots of little fuckers running around who share our DNA.” He adds the latter when my jaw tightens. “You think your father only let mine fuck our mom? No, they both fucked anyone and everyone he wanted. And who cares about the bastards born from it? I mean, it’s literally called the Brotherhood.” He laughs. “But Violet didn’t give him the one thing he couldn’t force her to give, so he punished her. Turned her over to me, told me to remove all the shit she didn’t need, and then to congratulate me on a successful first surgery back, he gave her to me.”
Wes’ eyes turn to the woman next to him, who seems to be coming out of the sleep she’s been in. “She almost died on my table… not by choice, mind you. She just wasn’t in good enough shape to handle that kind of procedure. But she’s a fighter.”
That may be another thing that just runs in their DNA. I lean back in my seat, dragging a hand over my face. “I can’t keep doing this.”
The admission is more for myself than Wes, or maybe it’s for the universe. I repeat those words when he looks at me through thinned eyelids, suspicion coloring his gaze. It’s a revelation that I loathe to admit, but even just saying it, I feel like I can breathe again.
“I can’t keep doing this.” I say it louder this time, turning to Wes. “Are you sure I’m not a villain, brother ?” I taunt. “Because I choose her.”
Wes only lifts an eyebrow, letting me continue to work through the thoughts unraveling in real time. “I never thought I’d sacrifice everything else for one person, but I’d let it all burn for her. I’ve seen the people that need me, but I can’t be there for them if it means depriving myself of the reason for my existence. I played their game for years, and it didn’t get me anywhere! I pushed people away—I pushed her away—because no one will ever be safe with me. And yet, I’m willing to take that chance because I can go all in to protect her.”
The smirk of Wes’ lips tells me he gets it. “Congratu-fucking-lations, brother. You’ve finally realized what you never seemed to understand before. What’s better? To love and lose, or to never love at all?”
“What?” My attention snaps to him, the confusion pulling me from the moment. “It’s better to have loved and lost because you can gut the bastards that take everything from you.”
He leans back, the smirk deepening with his satisfaction. “Maybe you don’t make a shitty bad guy after all. Bad guys can have their happy endings too, you know.”
I can. I feel it in my bones, taste it on my tongue. Maybe I’m high on the need for her, maybe I’m delirious from relief, maybe I’ve been driven to madness by all that I’ve seen. Whatever the reason, I can tell that it’s different now.
I’d thought I was going to have a happily ever after once, but I wasn’t willing to pay for it. It’s why I severed every connection I had to Monica, pushed away Genevieve even though she only tried to tolerate me, why I drove Claire out of my life even though I didn’t want to part from her.
I can tell Kent is biting his tongue, aghast at what I’m saying… that I’d turn my back on him, on everyone, for her. But if he doesn’t understand that he’s either a fool or he’s never been in love the way he claims he has.
“There’s still storehouses,” he reminds me. “Holding facilities, hostages and slaves that need us. We aren’t done.”
“I am.” I shrug, realizing how true it is as I say the words.
“You’re just going to abandon them?” Kent accuses. “After all that we did? You know that they’ve been asking about you. Everyone wants to meet the man that saved them, and you’re just going to run off and live your life like none of them ever happened?”
“Is this about them or you?” I slide my gaze to his, watching as his jaw grinds together.
“Fuck you!”
“Oh,” Wes straightens, leaning forward, and Violet blinks awake slowly to take in the exchange. “Is it my turn to play the therapist? I’m sensing another hero complex. Need me to break it for you?”
“If you turn your back on them, you’re every bit as fucked up as the rest of them.” Kent warns.
I shrug and lean back, relaxing with a newfound sense of peace. I’m going to get my girl, and I’m going to walk away from all of it. We can start over, in Oregon, in Costa Rica, in fucking Greece, if she wants. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I will have her.
“It’s fine.” I tell him as Kent pushes to stand and strides angrily past me. “If you want it so bad, I’ll give you everything. The keys to the kingdom, the kingdom itself. I don’t fucking want it.”
He doesn’t hear me as a door slams, and a moment later, I hear the wood groaning and splitting under his assault as he strikes it with punch after punch and an odd kick here and there.
It takes a few minutes, but once he’s done with his temper tantrum, Violet clears her throat. She’s sitting up now, her back straight, and in the light coming in through the window, she doesn’t look like the woman I met back in Mexico. There’s something dangerous about her when she leans toward me.
“What if you could have your cake and eat it too?”