Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Gwendolyn
The sound of cars pulling up had my heart in my throat before I even reached the window.
They were back.
It’d taken Max two long hours to rescue my sister. When the engine cut, the driver’s door opened, and Max stepped out.
Even from the window, I could see the tension in the set of his shoulders. He rounded the front of the vehicle and opened the passenger door.
My breath left my body.
Amelia.
I raced from the window to the front door and out it in seconds.
Max had Amelia’s hand in his and was leading her toward me. She was wearing his jacket around her shoulders.
Even from here, with the only light shining from the cars headlights and porch, I could see the dark bruise along her cheekbone and temple.
But what else had happened?
What hell had they put my sister through?
I sprinted across the lawn, calling, “Amelia!”
Her head snapped up.
“Gwen?”
I collided with her, wrapping my arms around her so tightly, I was afraid I’d break her. She felt so small to me, like I’d forgotten how tiny she still was. But she was warm.
She was here.
Alive and safe.
Amelia let out a sob that tore straight through my chest and clung to me. “I didn’t think…. I didn’t think….”
“It’s all right. I’ve got you,” I choked. “I’ve got you. You’re home. You’re safe.”
Footsteps thundered behind me.
Felix reached us first. Our big, lanky brother dropped to his knees and pulled both of us into his arms. His goofy grin was gone, replaced with a trembling bottom lip and wet eyes he wasn’t even trying to hide.
“You’re okay,” he kept saying. “You’re okay, Melly. You’re here. We’ve got you.”
Greg shuffled up next, slower but just as fierce. He cupped Amelia’s face in his weathered hands. “I knew you’d come back,” he said gruffly, voice thick. “I knew.”
Stasia rushed over, tears streaming down her face. She wrapped her arms around Amelia from the side, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“You’re home, sweetie,” she whispered. “You’re safe now.”
Through it all, Max stood a few steps away, just watching—like he was still guarding.
His jaw was tight as he scanned the property, like he still expected a threat.
I pulled back just enough to look at my sister again.
Her eyes.
They were different.
Still Amelia, still my sweet, stubborn, dramatic little sister, but something had dimmed. Something had forced her to grow up too fast.
My hands shook as I brushed her hair back. “Did they hurt you?”
She hesitated.
That hesitation told me everything.
My stomach turned to acid.
Max’s gaze flicked to mine, and I saw it there. Rage. Not the cold, controlled kind he carried like a second skin.
This was personal.
“We’re going inside,” I said, forcing calm into my voice. “Warm bath. Clean clothes. Food. Stasia, can you…?”
“Already on it,” she said, guiding Amelia gently toward the house.
Felix stayed close to his sister, one arm around her shoulders like he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go. Greg followed behind, muttering about soup and blankets.
I lingered, waiting for Max and me to be alone, even though Torment and Vincent were in their vehicle nearby.
Up close, I saw the faint smear of blood on his shirt.
I reached out. “Max.”
He wrapped his hand around mine, lifting it so he could kiss the back of it. “Just a graze. It’s nothing.” His eyes softened when they met mine. “I told you I’d bring her home.”
I stepped into him, wrapping my arms around his middle. He held me tight, burying his face in my hair like he needed to feel me.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
His hand came up to cradle the back of my head.
“No one touches what’s yours.”
My throat closed. I pulled back slightly and looked up at him. “Is she…?” I couldn’t finish the question.
He understood anyway.
“They didn’t get as far as they wanted,” he said carefully. “We got there in time.”
Relief nearly dropped me to my knees.
But the bruises. The hollow in her eyes.
“They hurt her,” I said flatly.
His jaw ticked. “Yes.”
I glanced toward the house, making sure no one was watching, then I demanded quietly, “Tell me.”
I’d witnessed some of the carnage outside, until my nerves got the best of me. I couldn’t bring myself to watch anything on the inside. I’d placed all my trust in Max because I believed he’d bring her home to me.
His eyes darkened.
When he didn’t say anything right away, I asked, “Did they pay for what they did to her?”
I needed to hear it. I needed something to anchor the rage crawling up my spine.
For another moment, he just looked at me before stepping closer. “The one behind it all was my own brother. Benjamin,” he said evenly.
My breathing slowed. “Why?”
“Jealousy. The rest, some cousins, too, are dead for joining him, but he’ll pay slowly for this, Gwen.
I promise you.” He took a breath. “There were a few other young teens being sold too.” When I gasped, he quickly added, “But it all ended tonight. I’ve made sure of it, and the other teens have been cared for. ”
A tremor of satisfaction went through me.
“They won’t touch another girl,” he continued. “Not yours. Not anyone’s.”
Tears burned my eyes. “They’re so young, Max.”
“I know.” His voice sharpened. He wanted to hurt more people for what’d been done. What he’d seen.
I pressed my forehead to his chest. “Thank you.”
His arms wrapped around me again. This time there was something heavier in the way he held me. Protective. Possessive. Almost shaken. It really had rocked him to see Amelia hurt and knowing his brother was involved.
We stayed that way for a moment longer before I pulled back. “She’s going to need therapy,” I said. “But also patience, and no loud voices or slamming doors.”
“We’ll find someone for her,” he replied. “Best money can buy. And security’s doubled.”
Of course it was.
I wiped my face and took a steadying breath. “Come inside.”
He hesitated. “I don’t want to overwhelm her.”
I softened. “You saved her. She’ll want to see you again.”
“I’ll come in for a while, but then I have to deal with Ben.”
I nodded, and we walked toward the house.
Inside, Amelia was curled up on the couch in one of Felix’s oversized hoodies, damp hair brushed out, and Greg’s wool blanket tucked around her like armor. Stasia sat beside her, stroking her back gently.
When Amelia saw Max in the doorway, she stood and slowly crossed the room to stop in front of him. “Thank you again,” she said, voice small but steady.
Max crouched so he was eye level with her. “You’re safe now.”
She studied him for a moment, this big, dangerous man who commanded rooms and ordered deaths.
Then she stepped forward and hugged him. My heart raced as he carefully wrapped his arms back around her.
My family was whole again, but different.
And as I watched them, one thing settled deep in my bones: Anyone who tried to take from us again wouldn’t live long enough to regret it.
Malice
Barging through the warehouse doors, I watched as everyone scattered except for Torment, who’d been waiting for me. I stormed down the hallway where Benjamin’s room loomed at the end, with Torment silent and vicious right on my heels.
I flung the door open with so much force, it slammed against the wall, sending a violent shudder through the room.
Taking in my surroundings, I saw Reaper standing in the back right-hand corner, sharpening a machete.
My mouth turned into a ruthless smile baring all my teeth when I saw Benjamin.
He was suspended from the ceiling beam in only his underwear.
His wrists were bound tight with rope, his arms wrenched up and behind his back, forcing his shoulders out of their sockets.
His toes barely brushed the ground, weighed down with lead.
A blindfold covered his eyes, but it did nothing to mask the agony twisting his face as he trembled and groaned through clenched teeth, mumbling about forgiveness.
It was a glorious sight to see.
The pain written across his features filled me with pure contentment. He deserved this and much more.
“Hello, Benny boy.”
His breath hitched, and he tried to twist away from me, crying out as the movement pulled at his ruined shoulder.
I moved to the weaponry wall and ran my fingers along the rows of steel before settling on a paring knife.
Then I approached the rat slowly.
Pressing the blade against his stomach, I dragged it upward hard enough to leave a thin cut running from his abdomen to the top of his chest, making him hiss in pain. Sliding the knife along his jawline, I traced it up the side of his face until it caught the strap of the blindfold.
With a flick of my wrist, I sliced the material and pulled it away.
He blinked against the light before squeezing his eyes shut. Snot and tears streaked down his face.
In the next second, I drove the knife straight into his thigh, careful to miss the femoral artery.
A scream ripped out of him—raw and ragged.
It filled the room sweetly, bouncing off the walls.
Until he snapped his jaw shut mid-cry and began grinding his teeth together hard enough that I could hear it. His breaths became sharp bursts through his nose.
“You’re a disgrace to the Garcia bloodline,” I told him, my upper lip flicking up in disgust before I turned back to the weapon wall to find my next tool.
Taking in a shuddering breath, he mumbled under his breath, probably thinking I wouldn’t hear him. “The organization should’ve been mine.”
Turning around with so much force, the movement snapped through my shoulders, I drove my arm forward and punched him in the lower stomach, forcing a series of desperate gasps from him.
“You’re a failure of a man, Benjamin, and I despise the fact that I’m even related to you.”
He did nothing but suck in harsh breaths through his nose and glare into my eyes.
I spat in his face, and then I stalked back to the wall and snatched up a blowtorch. As soon as I lit it, Benjamin began screaming, “No!”
The fear in his gaze had me grinning.