Chapter 24
Sierra
I don’t understand how this happened.
The thought doesn’t come loud or urgent, just steady, circling back no matter how much I try to focus on anything else. It sits there, stubborn and wrong, because none of this fits into the version of my life I’ve been living.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. Things like this don’t happen to me. My father doesn’t allow it. He buries problems long before they become real enough to reach me. He always has. Calls get made, people get paid, problems disappear before they can settle into something permanent.
That’s what happened back then too. It was handled.
He would’ve taken care of it. No one said my name.
Not officially, not where it mattered. There were whispers for a while, curiosity, people looking a little too long, but even that faded faster than it should have.
It always does once money starts flowing in the right direction.
The reports came out clean. Reed lost control of the car. Speed, late at night, no one else involved. He drove straight into a tree.
Simple.
Contained.
Believable.
That’s what people remember. That’s what was written down. I walked away from it. That part I remember clearly. Not running, not panicking… just leaving like there was nothing else to be done. Because there wasn’t. Because it wasn’t my fault. Because…
My breath catches, shallow without warning, like something in my chest tightens before I can stop it. The thought shifts inside my head, and I feel it before I fully understand it, like something beneath the surface pressing where it shouldn’t.
No.
I swallow, my head moving faintly against the chain without meaning to, like I can shake it loose before it takes shape. I don’t want to go back there. I’ve spent too long keeping it exactly where it belongs—quiet, distant. But it doesn’t stay buried. It never really did.
The night is clear in a way that makes everything feel slower, like the world has stepped back and left the streets empty on purpose.
The sky opens endlessly above us, stars scattered across the dark while the full moon casts a pale glow over the road ahead.
At this hour, the town is always like this.
Quiet and almost empty. It’s why we come out every night.
Vince drives like he owns the road, one hand loose on the wheel, the other tapping against his leg in rhythm with “The Devil in I” playing low through the speakers, the sound blending into the steady hum of the engine.
We take the same turns we always do, the same streets, the same pointless loop that somehow never feels boring.
I lean back in my seat, watching the road blur under the headlights.
“I swear, Tess is getting worse,” I complain, my voice light, more annoyed than anything. “She won’t shut up about it. It’s actually starting to get on my nerves.”
Vince huffs a laugh without looking at me. “About what this time?”
“About him,” I say, rolling my eyes. “One of those weird brothers. Reed, I think. You know… the one who looks like he hasn’t seen a mirror or a decent meal in years.”
He lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Figures. Those freaks look like they crawled out of a ditch.”
I smile faintly, turning my head toward him. “She actually thinks he’s…”
“Speak of the devil,” Vince cuts in, leaning forward as his focus locks on the road ahead. “Look who it is.”
I follow the direction his eyes drift to the car ahead, recognizing it immediately by the way it moves—old, cheap—like it doesn’t belong on the same road as everything else. Vince’s mouth curves while he leans over the wheel a little.
“Reed the reject,” he says with a quiet snort. “Still driving that piece of shit.”
I exhale slowly, unimpressed, my eyes lingering on the car for a little longer. “God… that’s actually sad. It looks like it might fall apart if he goes over a speed bump.”
He briefly eases off the gas, slipping in behind him before steadily closing the distance until our headlights spill across the back of Reed’s car.
“Watch this,” Vince says, a grin slipping into his voice.
He edges closer, just enough to press and make it obvious he’s there, and Reed reacts almost immediately—his car picking up speed like he’s trying to get away. I can’t help the small smile that slips out as Vince follows without hesitation.
I catch the shift before it happens—that small change in him when something becomes a game.
He drifts wide, easy, then accelerates past Reed like the man isn’t worth the acknowledgment, and then he’s cutting back in front of him, closer than necessary.
Behind us, Reed brakes like he’s been startled out of sleep, and that pulls a laugh out of both of us.
“Come on,” Vince mutters, watching him through the mirror. “Keep up.”
He slows again, boxing Reed in behind him, and every time it looks like he might break free, Vince swerves hard across the lane to shut him down.
“You know he can’t hear you, right?” A breathy laugh slips out of me.
“Doesn’t matter,” Vince shrugs easily. “He gets it.”
In the mirror, I see Reed’s car move again, a little faster this time, a little less controlled.
“He’s getting pissed,” Vince adds, almost pleased.
Reed pulls out suddenly, trying to pass, but Vince matches him instantly. The cars stay side by side, moving too fast and too close for something that started as nothing.
I shake my head under my breath, watching it play out like it’s just another stupid game.
Vince glances at me briefly, that same look still sitting in his eyes. “I’m gonna scare him a little,” he says.
I don’t answer, still smiling as he swerves the wheel to the side, not enough to hit but enough to make it look like he might, and Reed overreacts immediately, handling it like he’s never been behind a wheel before.
His car swerves hard, the tires screeching against the road as he overcorrects, then loses it completely. The back of the car swings out, the front jerks the opposite way, and it almost looks like he might regain control. He doesn’t.
The car shoots off the road and slams into a tree. The sound is heavy, wrong, louder than anything that’s happened so far, and everything goes still after.
Vince brakes hard, the car shuddering beneath us before everything goes quiet. Then I notice it: smoke starting to curl up from the front of Reed’s car, thin at first, barely visible against the dark, and my stomach tightens without warning.
“Vince…” I say, my voice sounding off even to me. “He…”
“Shit,” Vince mutters as he pushes the door open, and a second later we’re both stepping out of the car. By then, the smoke is already getting thicker, flames beginning to catch beneath the hood.
“Wait—no,” I say quickly, turning toward him, something sharp rising in my chest. “We have to help him. Call someone, call…”
“I’ve got it,” he bites out, but he’s not doing anything that looks like help.
“Vince, call the fire brigade,” I urge, already reaching for my phone. “We can still…”
His hand closes around my wrist—hard.
“Stop,” Something changes in the way he says it this time.
“What are you doing?” I try to pull back, my chest tightening harder with every second. “We can’t just leave him!” He drags me toward him, forcing me back into the car before I can do anything else.
“Vince, let me go, we have to help him!”
“Shut up, Sierra!” he cuts in, sharper this time as he forces me back into the seat before climbing in after me and slamming the door. “Just sit still for a minute.”
The fire grows, and I can see it clearly now as it spreads along the front, catching faster than it should.
“He’s in there,” I say, my voice slipping as I look back at it. “Vince, we can still help him, just call…”
“We’re not calling anyone!” he snaps, starting the engine again.
The words don’t make sense, and I turn to him. “What?”
“We’re leaving.”
“No.” I shake my head immediately, adrenaline hitting properly now. “No, we can’t… Are you insane?! Vince, he’s going to…”
“We’re leaving,” he repeats, louder this time, like that makes it final.
A sick feeling curls through me while my hands start shaking uncontrollably.
“If we stay, we’re fucked,” he adds, glancing at me briefly. “You understand that, right?”
I don’t answer. I’m still looking at the fire, still thinking—we could still do something. We could…
“I’m calling my dad,” Vince says suddenly, like that fixes it, like that ends the conversation.
“What?” My head snaps toward him.
“He’ll handle it,” he adds, already too calm. “He always does.”
The car starts moving, and I turn in my seat, watching the fire shrink behind us until it’s nothing more than light in the distance. My hands start to shake, and I press them together, trying to steady them as the thought settles in.
This is bad.
This is really, really bad.
“What if someone saw us?” I whisper, fear slipping through the words.“What if… what if they find out? Vince, we’re going to…”
“Relax,” he cuts in, like I’m overreacting. “Nothing’s going to happen.”
“We’re going to prison,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “Oh my God, we’re actually going to prison!”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says firmly. “Do you hear me?”
I don’t answer, still looking back, watching the fire fade behind us.
“I’ll call your dad,” Vince repeats. “He’ll fix it.”
I press my hand over my mouth, and my breathing steadies slightly as that sinks in. My dad will handle it. Nobody’s going to know it was us.
The thought settles deep in my chest, numbing something I don’t want to look at too closely. And somehow… that alone keeps me from arguing.
Pain cuts through me before the memory can finish forming—sudden and deep—dragging a scream out of my throat as my body jerks violently against the chains. The force of it pulling hard at my shoulders while something hot spreads across my abdomen.
The past crashes down all at once, hard enough to knock the rhythm from my breathing as my head drops forward before I can stop it, still trying to process what just happened until the blade touches my skin.
A quiet breath brushes near my ear, steady, controlled, completely untouched by the way I’m shaking.
“I was starting to think you weren’t coming back, kitten.” Dom’s voice drifts through the room with an absent ease, like he’s speaking more to himself than to me.
I try to focus, but the pain sits too deep now—sharp and spreading—the warmth on my skin making it impossible to ignore what he’s already done.
The knife shifts, dragging along the same cut until it splits open again—slow and precise—like he’s not guessing, like he already knows exactly how far to go.
A scream tears out of me, my body pulling hard against the restraints as the sound bounces back off the walls. His hand closes around my jaw, forcing my head up, his touch controlled and patient, like nothing about this needs to be rushed.
“I tried the easy way,” he says, studying me like he’s trying to carve through every layer I’ve ever hidden behind, the blade pressing straight into the center of the pain until my breath fractures under it.
“But you kept slipping.” He tilts his head, watching me with a calm that doesn’t fit what he’s doing.
“So I figured…” he says quietly. “If pleasure doesn’t bring you back to reality…
” he continues as the knife drags across the same cut, splitting it open again until a sharp sound tears out of me. “…pain will.”
I gather whatever’s left in me and spit straight in his face.
“Fuck you!” My breathing shakes violently around the words, but I still make sure he hears every single one. “You fucking psycho!”
His hand is on my jaw instantly, fingers digging in as he forces my head back, a dark, crooked smile spreading across his face.
For a second, he just looks at me, then he leans in and drags his tongue slowly across my lips—unhurried—like he’s savoring it.
He pulls back slightly until our eyes meet, that same smile still lingering on his face.
“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he says quietly, something sharp hiding under it. “Shame it wasn’t this loud when my brother was burning.”