Chapter 10
DOMINIC
S ophie’s words kept ringing in my ears even after we left her room.
Every word, every moment, every punch and kick, and the abuse she endured felt like hot coals being raked down my chest. The blood in my veins roared and kicked and screamed with the need to avenge my baby sister and bring her the heads of the rapists and lay them down at her feet.
My muscles bunched as my vision kept tunneling into red, my body needing to beat something to a pulp.
That little voice in my head roared at me that I was a failure, that I couldn’t protect my sister.
It showed me the heartbreak in my mother’s eyes and the helplessness in my father’s hunched shoulders.
The deepest voice from the darkest recesses of my mind kept whispering in my ears that my parents, too, were disappointed in me for not saving my sister, for not finding the rapists, for not bringing her the justice she truly deserved.
“Oh, Dominic, who’s this with you?” the voice from my mind suddenly transformed into my mother’s.
A sharp jab at my ribs drew my attention to the two people in front of us that I really, really did not want to encounter right now. My mom and dad.
“Uh, Eomma, I didn’t see you there.”
I quickly looked at Samaira, and for the first time since we met, I saw a hint of panic on her face.
Mom and Dad sat on the couch, drinking tea. We were among the wealthiest Korean American families in New York. But thanks to my mom, who’d come to the States from Korea after marrying Dad, we lived a relatively grounded lifestyle.
She wore a casual blouse and long, flowy pants, while Dad was in his usual polo shirt and slacks. With glasses perched atop his head and a newspaper in hand, they both looked back and forth between Samaira and me.
I mentally chided myself for being lost in thought, shot Samaira an apologetic glance, and led her toward the living area. For a moment, she hesitated but then followed.
Mom placed her teacup on the coffee table and looked at us expectantly.
“Eomma, Appa, this is Samaira.” I had been debating all morning whether I should tell Mom and Dad about who Samaira really was, but after actually listening to Soph talk about everything, I couldn’t stay quiet.
We all needed a little hope in our lives, and Samaira was that ray of light.
“She is working on finding the men who hurt Sophie.”
My mom gasped and clutched the little golden pendant of her necklace, her eyes as wide as saucers. Even my dad straightened on the couch, putting down his newspaper.
Here we go.
“Dominic, what are you up to? Didn’t the cops tell us that the case was closed?” Dad asked, his hands shaking as he removed his glasses, rubbed his eyes, and put them back again.
I led Samaria to the couch, and we sat side by side across from my parents.
“Dad, you know I could never stop looking for those bastards.”
I never cursed in front of my mother, but even she never chided me for my choice of words when it came to those fuckers.
“But how? How would you find those men?” Mom's voice shook as she looked at Samaira, now scrutinizing her, starting from her chunky black boots to her build to the confident and authoritarian expression on her face. Samaira had appeared nervous when my parents had called us, but the moment I told them who she was, she’d assumed the identity and responsibility of a true Wildcat.
Before I could even utter a word, Samaira met my mother’s eyes with a confidence that even I lacked sometimes.
“Mrs. Park, I’m a member of a secret vigilante group.
We are called Wildcats. We avenge women who don’t find the justice they deserve from the people who are supposed to help them.
No matter who the criminal is, whether they come from a small family or an affluent one, whether they’re rich or poor, young or old.
We don’t care. We find criminals who’ve gotten away with abusing and raping and murdering women and dole out whatever punishment the women want. ”
Then she bent forward, resting her forearms on her knees and lacing her fingers together in front of her as she continued, “I promise you, Mrs. Park. I will find those three men who dared to touch your daughter, and we will show them that they don’t mess with us and get away with it.”
And I knew my mom had just fallen in love with the tigress. She moved toward her and clutched her hand with both of hers. “What was your name again, dear?”
“Samaira, Mrs. Park.”
Mom picked up the teapot and poured the tea into an empty cup, filling it to the brim, and handed it to Samaira. “Well, Samaira. Let me tell you. We’re going to be great friends.”
A loud laughter burst out of Samaira, and she gave my mother an honest-to-God smile. “Sounds great, Mrs. Park. ”
She waved a hand at her. “Oh hush, now. Call me Hana-eonni.”
Samaira’s face turned red, and she blinked rapidly as if she were having a nervous breakdown. But she quickly recovered and nodded. “Hana-eonni.”
That brought a proud smile to my mother’s face as she raised her cup in cheers to Samaira and took a sip.
My dad’s jaw was on the floor as he watched my mother be so animated.
His eyes met mine with that ray of hope I was talking about—Samaira truly was the one to shine that spark of light on my small family.
Looking at the awe and wonder on my dad’s face, I knew he would pour every resource he had into whatever Samaira asked for.
Once Samaira finished her tea, she bid my mother goodbye with a promise to keep her posted, and they exchanged phone numbers.
We were both silent as we made our way to her sedan. I couldn’t help but ask, “Why the sedan?”
One side of her lip curled in a smile. “Why not the sedan?”
I looked at her, then at the car, then back at her, and shrugged. “Doesn’t exactly match your vibe.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “It doesn’t gain any attention. Easy to blend into the traffic. Helps me stay incognito.”
I nodded, words escaping my mind. I wanted to ask her a billion questions about our next steps—if she needed anything from me, how she would find them, and what she gained by talking to Sophie again—but nothing came out of my mouth.
I placed my hands in my pockets, barely holding on to my sanity.
My mind was a churning mess of agony, darkness, and fury.
“She’s strong, you know.” Samaira’s words pulled me out of the dark vortex I was spiraling into.
It took everything within me to move my lips and get the words out. “I know.”
Samaira looked at me with a kind of intensity that made me feel as if she could read every single one of my depraved, violent, rage-infused thoughts. Like she could see the storm rising and rioting within me, consuming my very soul.
“What?” I asked her, not being able to stand her unnerving silence and the way she looked at me.
She jerked her head toward her car. “Get in.”
Then she promptly opened the driver's door and slid in. My feet were moving before I could even ask where we were headed. I just knew I’d follow her anywhere she asked.
I’d barely buckled in before she reversed her death machine of a car and tore out of the driveway.
We were both silent as she drove along the streets of Manhattan.
I watched the buildings pass by, the people on the streets lost in their lives, each haunted by nightmares of their own, yet time kept moving and the world kept spinning.
Some just learned to live with the horrors, while a rare few chose to fight back.
Sophie was a strong woman, and she had chosen to smile today, chosen to revisit her nightmares, chosen to learn to fight.
She’d told her story in my presence and chose to let me in. And I only had one person to thank. I turned to the woman who looked so fierce and ruthless yet had been so gentle and protective of my sister. “Thank you for today,” I said, making her glance at me.
She nodded, focusing on the road ahead. “I’m sorry for what you and your family are going through. It’s not easy, but you’re all a strong bunch. Sophie has the spirit of a fighter. I could feel it. That’s why I offered her the option to train.”
As much as I’d loathed the idea of Sophie learning to fight, I knew it was the right step.
Sophie's immediate acceptance had sealed the deal.
If she wanted to learn to fight, she was going to fight.
And it had been good to see some of that old spirit return in her eyes.
“Would she be okay, though? Not from the fighting, of course, but from the external threat of the rapists?
You think they'll be waiting for her to appear and finish their job or something?”
Samaira nodded. “That’s a possibility. But it’s been four months since the incident.
They might have become confident that they’re safe and that the situation is under control.
They might have forgotten about Sophie altogether.
But even if that weren’t the case, and if they’re waiting in the shadows, they’ll be just that much easier to catch. ”
I nodded, but my mind was busy arranging the logistics of letting Sophie go for training every morning.
I’d have to assign Maxim to take her and maybe have a car or two following her.
If she agrees to have two bodyguards accompany her in the car, even better.
I’d have to talk to Soph about it, convince her to be on board with my bodyguard idea.
Another thing had been circling in my mind.
The way Samaira had slammed me on my back for merely touching her shoulder.
The inferno mixed with panic in her eyes had frozen me to the spot.
She’d looked like she could skin me alive if I dared to move.
Something must have happened in her past for her to react in that manner.
I cleared my throat, my heart beating abnormally fast at the thought of talking to her about this. “Umm. I also wanted to apologize to you for touching you without your permission.”