Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LEON
Blake’s footsteps on the stairs interrupt my restless pacing. Before I can ask where Bailey is, she raises her hand to stop me.
“She’s resting. I told her it was a good idea.”
I exhale slowly. “Yeah, she needs that.”
She crosses to me and wraps me in a hug I didn’t realize I desperately needed. “Damon filled me in on what happened over there. I’m so sorry.”
“It was...” I trail off, unable to find words that could possibly capture it all. “But we found her. That’s what matters.”
The front door opens and Damon steps inside, taking in the scene. “Should we make this a group hug?”
Blake pulls back but keeps one hand resting on my arm. “You should get some sleep too. There’s nothing more we can do tonight.”
Damon adds, “I tried telling Jas and Falin the same thing, but they went out for energy drinks and snacks. Pretty sure Falin wants to find every bit of information about your fath—”
I shoot him a sharp look and he clears his throat.
“About Alfred that she can dig up. She’s as pissed as I’ve ever seen her.”
I rub my tired eyes. “What about Jas? Is he alright?”
Damon shifts his weight and pulls Blake closer to his side. “He’s hurting, I think, but overall relieved to have her back. It’s just... a lot to process. None of us expected tonight to go the way it did.”
Silence settles over us for a few beats before Blake voices the question we’ve all been avoiding.
“So what do we do about all of this? Alfred, Orlov, The Brotherhood...” She pauses, letting her words hang in the air. “Once Bailey’s ready to talk, it might be too late. And like you said, what if we can’t trust the police?”
I roll my lip ring between my teeth, weighing her questions, running through every possible course of action and outcome.
“I don’t know.” It kills me to admit that. Rage and exhaustion war within my chest. I want to find Alfred… find them all… make them pay, but I’m so fucking tired and I have no idea what’s right or wrong. “What I want to do and what we should do aren’t the same.”
“And that is?” Blake asks, her expression full of concern.
“Burn that fucking estate to the ground. Find everyone who’s ever touched her and kill them slowly.”
She nods, eyes wide. “Uh… yeah, not sure that’s the answer tonight.”
My eyes meet Damon’s and I see that familiar gleam in them. He’s weighing our options too until Blake cups his chin and pulls his face to look at hers. “Not happening tonight, Freddy. I see that look in your eyes.”
Damon sighs and relaxes his shoulders. “You’re right, Angel. We need to be smart about this.”
“Smart,” I repeat, trying to hide my frustration from my tone.
“I don’t know if I can just sit here while Bailey’s upstairs, barely okay, and other girls like her are still out there suffering.
” I squeeze both hands into fists. “How long do we wait? How many more people get hurt while we’re being smart? ”
“Leon—” Blake starts.
“No, you don’t understand.” My voice cracks, and I look at the floor instead of their worried expressions.
“She can barely look at me. The woman I love, who I’ve been searching for over a year, looks at me like I’m a stranger.
And it’s because of him. Because of my father.
How am I supposed to tell her? How can I live with what he’s done? ”
Blake’s gentle voice draws my gaze. “The same way I’m living with what Brennan did. One day at a time, realizing what they did had nothing to do with us. Knowing that we’ll do everything we can to right their wrongs.”
Her words float through the air, not quite landing where I need them.
Maybe it’s me and I’m not ready to hear her.
Too much talking, not enough action. I exhale and glance at the door.
“I knew something was off about him years ago. I felt it in my gut when he tried to bring me into his fucked up world, but I just ran. I transferred schools, moved to America, and pretended he didn’t exist. If I did something then… ”
“You were protecting yourself,” Damon says. “You did the right thing.”
“I was a coward. And while I was hiding across the ocean, he was...” I can’t finish the sentence.
Can’t say out loud what he was doing to Bailey, I still don’t know the extent of it, but when I do.
My words spill out, what I’ve been holding in for all this time.
“I was supposed to be there that night, you know. But I was in some stupid fucking study group, some subconscious part of me was still trying to be the academic Alfred wanted, still trying to make him proud. She texted me, and I didn’t see it. Not until—”
The front door opens and Jasper and Falin walk inside, hands full of paper bags.
My eyes meet Jasper’s and his widen. I know he’s going to ask what we’re talking about.
I’m sure Falin will say all the right things—it wasn’t my fault, how could I have known.
And Jas—he’ll just look at me with those wide eyes full of hurt.
“I need some air,” I mutter, barely looking at any of them. “Need to think.”
“Leon,” Blake’s voice is gentle but worried. “Where are you going?”
“Just for a ride. Won’t be long.”
I grab my jacket and bag from the couch and slip outside. Their whispered voices follow me until I close the door behind me.
It must be close to 2 AM at this point, but the cool air awakens my tired eyes. I throw on my jacket and bag and climb onto my bike.
The engine roars to life beneath me, drowning out the chaos in my head for a blessed moment.
I don’t have a destination in mind, I just need to move, to feel something other than this crushing weight in my chest. To clear my thoughts so I can think straight.
I can’t go to sleep yet, not when every time my mind is idle I see Bailey’s terrified expression in that clearing.
The streets are nearly empty at this hour, just a few taxis and a couple of people out on the sidewalks. I’m able to ride faster, letting muscle memory guide me through London’s winding roads. I take turns without thinking, going on instinct alone. If I get lost at least I’ll have that to focus on.
My phone rings multiple times from my Bluetooth—Damon, Blake, Falin. I ignore the calls.
It’s only when I slow to a stop close to an hour later that I realize where I am.
Alfred’s London estate stands high before me, sitting at the top of a long driveway blocked by iron gates. The same C sigil gleams from the center, highlighting his last name. The name I wish I didn’t have.
Instead of the empty abandoned feeling I used to feel as a kid when I looked up at the house I was never welcomed into, now there’s only white hot rage burning through my veins.
The house is completely dark apart from the exterior security lights.
If I wanted to, I could disable every protection he’s set up around his property—could get inside in mere minutes.
But I know in my gut he’s not in there. He’s either still in the country, or has fled somewhere to hide.
But still, I close my eyes and picture him in there anyway.
Him pacing his study with its mahogany furniture, leather bound books, and crystal chandeliers.
Making phone calls and holding meetings about people like they’re nothing but objects to be bought and sold.
People with lives and families and loved ones. People like Bailey.
I white-knuckle the handlebars, and let a dark fantasy play out in my mind.
Me dousing the place with accelerant. Striking a match.
Tossing it against the heavy drapes or expensive rugs.
Watching the place fill with smoke and flames.
Smiling as those floor to ceiling windows explode outward, seeing his precious antiques and family portraits curl and blacken.
The whole fucking home that’s nothing but another object that he’s collected burn until it’s a pile of ash.
As the images flicker through my mind, I know as satisfying as it would be, it wouldn’t be enough.
Burning an empty house won’t give Bailey back the months he stole from her.
It wouldn’t erase the way she flinched when I tried to touch her tonight, or reverse the look in her eyes when she said our relationship didn’t matter anymore.
Blake and Damon are right. If I’m going to destroy him I need to do it right. I need him to look me in the eyes, and see exactly who’s taking him down. And Bailey—she can be there to watch, to help, hell, even to make the killing blow herself.
I pull out my phone and stare at the contact I should have deleted years ago.
Alfred Colter glows on the screen in cold white letters.
My thumb hovers over the call button. It’s past 3 AM, but I don’t give a shit if I wake him up.
In fact, I hope I rip him right out of whatever peaceful sleep he thinks he deserves.
Every ounce of rage that’s been simmering within me sharpens to a deadly point and before I can think better of it, I hit call.
The phone rings once. Twice. Then his voice is there, coming through my speakers.
“You’ve made quite the mess for me tonight.” The bastard sounds calm, like multiple dead bodies on his property is just another day’s work.
“You’re lucky you’re still breathing,” I seethe.
He’s quiet for a moment and I fucking hate it. I want him to laugh at me. To yell. To bait me into unleashing my anger. Instead, his voice slithers through the speaker, smooth and venomous.
“I’m disappointed in you, Leon. After all this time, I thought we came to an understanding. She was for you, you know. A present. Primed and ready to be by your side as you take your rightful place—”
“You’re sick,” I cut him off, my voice shaking. “She’s not a fucking present. She’s a human being.”
“And why can’t she be both?”
I hop off my bike and pace the ground, not wanting to listen to him but knowing I need to hear his fucked up views.
“I’ve spent considerable time and resources preparing her for you. Do you have any idea what she was like when I found her? Broken. Traumatized. Worthless to anyone.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. “You didn’t find her, you bought her. There’s a difference you sick fuck.”
“No need to argue details. The point is, I took that damaged girl and turned her into something extraordinary. Educated her. Refined her. Made her worthy of the Colter name. Worthy of you.”
“What did you do to her?”
Now he laughs dismissively, like this is all one big joke.
“I civilized her. She was nothing but a common American whore when she arrived. Now she can hold proper conversation, carry herself with dignity, understand her place in the world. I did that for you, Leon. Everything I did was to give you the perfect companion.”
“Don’t you fucking—”
“Language,” he snaps. “You will speak to me like the proper gentleman that you were raised to be.”
“Fuck you.”
“I see we’re not going to come to an agreement. It’s a shame, really. I had grand plans for you. We all did.”
“We?” I ask, though I already know exactly who he’s talking about.
“Don’t play dumb, son. I’ve been made aware of your meddling. You had such potential, Leon. Your technical skills, your intelligence... you could have been invaluable to our operations. And with Bailey by your side, properly trained and obedient, you would have had everything a man could want.”
Bile rises to my throat.
“I’m not your son and I never have been. Don’t come near her, you understand me? You and your twisted organization are over.”
“Make your threats,” he says, his pleasure practically seeping though the speaker. “I can handle them. But you’re wrong about one thing: you are my son. My blood runs through your veins, whether you like it or not.”
“No… blood doesn’t matter. It never mattered.”
“Last chance to change your mind. I have resources you can’t even imagine.
Connections that reach into every level of government, law enforcement, the judiciary, not just here but worldwide.
Who do you think they’ll believe—a respected diplomat or a bitter son with no connections?
Bring her back to me, let me finish what I’ve started, join my side, become the man you were born to be. ”
“I’d rather die.”
The line goes quiet for a moment, then his voice returns with that same deadly calm I’ve seen him use before.
“You’ve made your choice, Leon. And I’ve made mine. Sleep well, son. You’ll need your rest for what’s coming.”
The call ends, leaving me standing in the shadow of his estate with nothing but a dial tone and a promise of war.
“Fuck!” I yell into the night. That bastard. That fucking—I pace back and forth, clenching my fists until half moon divots pierce my skin. He loved every second of that phone call and I let him have the last word.
All at once, clarity hits me. I need to leave him a message. He can’t touch me. Can’t hurt Bailey or anyone I love.
Before I second guess myself, I pull out my burner and within five minutes, I have the security system to his trophy home dismantled. I reach into my bag and calmly pull out my accelerant and matches.
If he wants to threaten me, I’ll burn everything he owns to the fucking ground.