Chapter 9 #2
“I had a bad feeling when you got that call,” he admits, brushing hair from my face with a gentleness that contrasts sharply with the cold fury in his eyes. “Made some arrangements, just in case.”
I should be unnerved by his foresight, but instead I find myself profoundly grateful. “Thank you.”
He helps secure my bag to the bike, then hands me his helmet. “Put this on. We’re going to fix this, X. I promise.”
As I climb on behind him, arms wrapping around his waist, I realize something fundamental has shifted inside me. The system I’ve trusted my entire professional life has just betrayed me based on a lie. The outlaw I was raised to avoid is the one standing firmly in my corner.
Sometimes, justice needs more than proper channels. Sometimes, it needs someone willing to break the rules to make things right.
And as we pull away from the hospital, away from my shattered career and toward the unlikely sanctuary of the Devil Souls’ clubhouse, I find myself thinking that perhaps Zach’s world makes more sense than I’ve given it credit for.
The wind whips around us as we speed through town, and I hold on tighter, my chest pressed against Zach’s back. For the first time in my life, I understand the appeal of taking justice into your own hands.
* * *
Zach
I watch Xavier’s face through the side mirrors as he holds on to me during the ride, the wind whipping around us.
His expression is a mixture of shock, anger, and something deeper, a profound hurt that makes my blood boil.
This isn’t just about a job. This is about his identity, his purpose, everything he’s worked hard for.
And that bitch Alex took it from him with a lie.
The more I think about it, the colder my rage becomes. By the time we reach the clubhouse, I’ve made my decision. Xavier needs to speak with the lawyer, get the legal wheels turning. But there’s another kind of justice that needs handling first.
“Go inside,” I tell him after we park, keeping my voice gentle despite the storm brewing inside me. “Grey’s waiting with the lawyer. Tell him everything.”
Xavier studies my face, those perceptive doctor’s eyes seeing more than I want him to. “Where are you going?”
“Just need to handle something,” I reply, deliberately vague. “Won’t be long.”
He hesitates, concern flickering across his features. “Zach… don’t do anything that’ll make this worse.”
I cup his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone. “Trust me.”
After he goes inside, I pull out my phone and make a quick call to Tiana. “Need an address,” I say without preamble. “Alex Donovan. Where she lives.”
“Why?” Tiana asks, instantly suspicious.
“Just get it for me.” My tone leaves no room for argument.
She sighs, but doesn’t push. “Give me five minutes.”
While I wait, I check my weapon, tucking it securely in my waistband. The weight of it is familiar, comforting in its deadly promise. My phone buzzes with an incoming text, an address in the suburban part of town, along with a note.
Husband’s name is Mark. Works from home.
Perfect.
Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling up to a tidy two-story house with flower boxes and a welcome mat.
The picture of suburban respectability. I park down the street, approach on foot.
A silver Audi sits in the driveway. Probably Mark’s.
I circle around to the back, finding a sliding glass door that leads to a kitchen.
Through the glass, I can see a man in his early forties, wearing glasses and a button-down shirt, sitting at the kitchen table with a laptop. Mark. Working from home, just like Tiana said.
I test the door. Unlocked. These people have no idea what real danger looks like.
I slide it open silently and step inside, drawing my weapon in one smooth motion. Mark doesn’t notice me until I clear my throat, the barrel of my gun pointed directly at his head.
“Don’t scream,” I advise as his head jerks up, eyes widening in terror behind his glasses. “Don’t move. Just listen.”
“Take whatever you want,” he stammers, hands rising instinctively. “My wallet’s on the counter. Car keys too.”
“I’m not here to rob you,” I tell him, my voice eerily calm even to my own ears. “I’m here about your wife, Alex.”
Confusion joins the fear in his expression. “Alex? What about her?”
“Call her,” I order, gesturing with the gun. “Tell her to come home now. Say it’s an emergency.”
His hands shake as he reaches for his phone. I move closer, pressing the barrel against his temple to emphasize my point. “Nothing stupid. Don’t try to warn her. Just get her here.”
He nods frantically, dialing with trembling fingers. I listen as he tells her there’s a plumbing emergency, water everywhere, and that he needs her help immediately. She agrees to come right away.
“Good,” I say when he hangs up. “Now, we wait.”
I pull out a chair, sitting across from him, gun never wavering. “While we’re waiting, let’s chat about your wife’s hobby of sexually harassing gay men and then filing false reports when they reject her.”
Mark’s expression shifts, something like resignation replacing some of the fear. “What did she do this time?”
His response surprises me. “This time? So, this has happened before?”
He removes his glasses, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Alex has… issues. With men she can’t have. Especially gay men. She sees them as a challenge.” He looks up at me, a different kind of fear in his eyes now. “Who did she go after?”
“A doctor. My doctor.” I don’t elaborate on my relationship with Xavier. “She cornered him, grabbed him inappropriately, then filed a false harassment claim when he rejected her. Got him fired today.”
Mark’s shoulders slump. “Jesus Christ. Not again.”
“Again?” I lean forward, interest piqued despite my anger. “This has happened before?”
He nods miserably. “Twice. Once at her previous hospital. Another time with our neighbor’s son. We had to move because of it.” His eyes meet mine, something like defeat in them. “I’ve tried to get her help. Therapy. Medication. She refuses. Says there’s nothing wrong with her.”
The sound of a car in the driveway interrupts our conversation. Mark tenses, eyes darting to the front of the house.
“Not a word,” I warn, moving to stand behind the door where Alex won’t immediately see me when she enters. “Let her come in first.”
The front door opens, Alex’s voice carrying through the house. “Mark? Where’s the water coming from? I don’t see anything…”
She stops dead when she enters the kitchen, taking in Mark’s pale face and my gun now pointed at her. Recognition dawns in her eyes, quickly followed by fear.
“You,” she whispers, taking a step back.
“Me,” I confirm, giving her a smile that makes her flinch. “Sit down. We’re going to have a conversation about Dr. Blane.”
She remains frozen, eyes darting between me, Mark, and the door. Calculating her chances of escape.
“Don’t,” I advise, reading her intention. “You run, I follow. And trust me, you don’t want that.”
Slowly, she sinks into a chair, as far from me as possible. “What do you want?”
“The truth,” I reply, keeping the gun steady. “And then you’re going to fix what you broke.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she tries, but her voice wavers.
“Your wife knows exactly what I’m talking about,” I tell Mark, never taking my eyes off Alex. “Ask her about cornering Dr. Blane in a supply closet. About grabbing his dick without consent. About filing a false report when he rejected her.”
Mark turns to his wife, disappointment and anger warring in his expression. “Alex. Tell me you didn’t. Not again.”
Something in her crumbles under his gaze. “He was asking for it,” she spits, defiance replacing fear. “The way he looked at me. I know he wanted it.”
“He’s gay,” I say flatly. “And even if he wasn’t, he didn’t want you. Nobody wants a predator.”
“I am not a predator!” she shrieks, slamming her hand on the table. “I was just trying to help him see what he’s missing!”
“By sexually assaulting him?” I keep my voice deliberately calm, which seems to unnerve her more than if I’d yelled. “By grabbing him without consent? By lying to get him fired when he rejected you? Plus you’re married, and a cheater at that,” I point out.
Tears well in her eyes, but I recognize them for what they are—not remorse, but self-pity. “You don’t understand. None of you understand.”
“I understand perfectly,” I reply, standing to my full height, using my size to intimidate her. “You’re going to call the hospital right now. You’re going to confess that you lied. That Dr. Blane rejected your advances, not the other way around. That you filed a false report out of spite.”
“I can’t do that,” she protests.
“You should have thought about that before you assaulted a doctor and lied about it,” I tell her, no sympathy in my voice. “Make the call, or I start making calls of my own. To the police. To the nursing board. To your previous hospital. To your neighbors.”
Her face pales as she realizes I know about her past incidents. Mark looks at her with growing horror, as if seeing her clearly for the first time.
“Do what he says, Alex,” Mark tells her, voice hard. “This ends now.”
She begins to cry in earnest, but I see calculation behind the tears. “And if I do this? If I confess? What then?”
“Then you resign from the hospital. Today. You get help, real help, not this bullshit fake crying. And you never come near Dr. Blane or any other Devil Souls business again.” I step closer, letting her see the cold promise in my eyes. “Or I’ll be back. And next time, I won’t be here to talk.”
Her shoulders slump in defeat. “Fine. I’ll make the call.”
I push her phone toward her. “On speaker. Now.”
I listen as she calls the hospital administrator, confession spilling out between sobs about how she cornered Xavier, how he rejected her, how she made everything up out of anger and spite.
The administrator’s voice is ice cold as she tells Alex to come in immediately to sign termination paperwork and a formal retraction.