Chapter 35
CHAPTER 35
CREED
L inc opens the door to the Yates mansion, and I have to fight back the urge to shoot the man right in the head for what he’s done.
“Brother,” he says, a menacing smirk on his face.
“You have seconds to step back and away from me, Lincoln. Because I can’t be held responsible for what I’ll do if you don’t. Where’s Amelia?”
This part right here is my fight, my chance to get answers from the man who betrayed me, the man who sold me out.
Lincoln’s smirk fades just slightly, his eyes narrowing. He knows I’m not bluffing. His fingers twitch around the handle of the door, but he doesn’t move.
“Amelia’s in the study,” he says, voice dark and dripping with something I can’t quite place. “But you should know that no one’s untouchable, Creed. Not even you.”
I step forward, closing the distance, but I remember why I’m here. I take a deep breath, my voice low and cold, cutting through the tension. “I’ve spent the last twelve years rotting away, Lincoln, and now you want to tell me no one’s untouchable. You’ll find out just how wrong you are.”
And this time, I’ll make sure to leave a mark that no one can erase.
Lincoln's eyes flicker, a brief flash of something darker, like he’s considering his next move. But I’m not giving him the chance. My hands curl into fists, the muscles in my arms aching to do what they’ve been trained for, what I’ve been waiting for. To make him pay for betraying me.
“Take me to her,” I say.
His eyes scan me, calculating. I can practically hear the gears turning in his head. But I’m not giving him the luxury of thinking this through. I step into the doorway, the space closing between us, and I feel the old rush of violence creep back in, spreading like fire. This is who I am now. The man who was broken, but never truly defeated.
“I don’t think you understand the situation,” Lincoln says, his voice taking on that arrogant, mocking tone that made me hate him initially. He leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest like he’s in control. “Nobody here is afraid of you? We’re calling the shots now.”
I want to slam my fist into his smug face, wipe that arrogant grin off. That little girl they took is a reason I have to stop myself from being the animal I’ve learned to be.
“Afraid?” I let out a dry laugh. “No. But you should be. You should be fucking terrified.” My teeth grind together, and my pulse pounds in my ears, louder than anything he could say. “I’m not here to talk, brother . And when I’m done, you’ll wish you never crossed me.”
The tension in the room crackles, thick and suffocating. Linc stands a little straighter, but his eyes dart nervously to the side, betraying him for the first time. The facade cracks, just for a second, and I can see the fear. The realization that this isn’t some game anymore.
“I’m not asking anymore,” I say. “Where. Is. She?”
For the first time, he hesitates. He’s torn between his loyalty to the woman who convinced him to betray me - and I still have no idea how - and his fear of what I’ll do. He’s calculating, weighing his options, but I see the moment he realizes, no matter what he says, won’t change that I’m done asking.
“I’ll take you to her,” he mutters finally, voice low and grating.
I enter the house, my eyes never leaving him, never letting him forget for a second that I’m here for retribution.
I move toward the study, every step a reminder of how far I’ve come, and how far I’m willing to go. Lincoln trails behind, his footsteps uncertain, like he’s afraid I might break him in half. And I would. If he doesn’t give me what I need.
My hand curls into a fist again, not for Lincoln, but for what I’m about to face. Amelia. The woman who tore my life apart, who I loathe more than anything.
I’m about to walk in, and nothing is going to stop me from getting my daughter.
* * *
The door to the study is the final barrier. My pulse is a steady drum in my veins, the rage I’ve kept bottled up, just begging to be unleashed. Amelia. Her name is a curse on my tongue, so I keep it buried deep. Today she meets the man who will eventually take her life. Not a piece in her game twelve years ago.
Lincoln hesitates in front of me. I don’t care about him anymore. He’s nothing but a pawn. A tool used by Amelia to keep me down. And now he’s just a nuisance standing in my way.
“Move!”
Lincoln shifts uneasily, but I see the small flicker of guilt in his eyes. He knows. He knows exactly what he did, and exactly what’s coming. He also knows I won’t stop until I get what I came for.
He steps aside, and I take a breath, finally pushing the door open. Amelia sits behind her husband’s large desk looking out of the French doors, her back turned toward us. For a moment, the air seems to freeze. I remember the last time I was here. Gordon too, thought he had the upper hand and he died for it.
Amelia hasn’t seen me yet, but I see her. And in that instant, every emotion I’ve buried rises to the surface. The hatred, the rage, the betrayal. All of it. I take a step forward, my heart pounding in my chest, the memories of everything she did to me flooding back.
The sound of my footsteps finally reaches her ears, and she stiffens, slowly turning in her chair. Her eyes lock on mine, and for a moment, there’s nothing. Just silence.
“Creed.” Her voice is steady, as if she has nothing to fear. As if I’m just some ghost from her past that she’s already forgotten. But I haven’t forgotten her. I haven’t forgotten how she blackmailed me, how she framed me.
I take another step forward, my gaze unwavering. “Where is my daughter?”
Her lips curl into a thin, practiced smile. The same smile she always wore when she believed she had me under her control. It only makes my rage burn hotter.
“I didn’t expect you to be alone,” she says, her tone almost indifferent. “Where’s my daughter?” Amelia smirks.
“I thought this conversation between the two of us was long overdue, figured you thought the same,” I say.
“So can we start with where my daughter is, Amelia?” I demand. I need her to answer me. I need to get to Gabriella.
Amelia leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, like she’s already won this battle. “You’re still trying to play the hero, Creed? You think you can just walk in here and demand anything from me?”
I can feel my control slipping, but I hold it together, just barely. “You’ve got one chance to tell me where she is. One chance.”
She stands slowly, moving to the window, her back to me. The moment stretches out, suffocating, but I don’t move. I don’t say a word. I’m done begging. I’ve already waited too long for this.
When she speaks again, it’s with a cold, calculating tone, the one she uses when she thinks she’s won. “She’s safe, Creed. Safe until we’ve handled our business.”
My heart slams in my chest. It takes everything for me not to just rip her throat.
I take a step toward her, my body rigid, and my voice comes out in a sharp, jagged whisper. “Then let’s talk.”
She turns to face me, a dark glimmer of satisfaction in her eyes. “Now that is better, playing by the rules.”
I feel the anger twist like a blade inside me. She’s a venomous whore.
But I can’t stop the gut-wrenching panic that grips me at the thought that this plan might not work as well as Mackenzie and I think.
“So…can we start with the truth?” She says. “I want those containers and you’re going to help me get them.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? You have them,” I growl, my body a coil of tension, ready to explode. “Lincoln double-crossed me.”
“I moved them for Diego, but now he’s holding them,” Linc says.
“So how is that my problem?” I growl.
“Diego’s offered to come to an arrangement," Amelia says, her tone measured. “I get the weapons if I can offer him something in return.” I scoff, “What does he want?”
“Oh, you’re catching on. See the Mexican Cartel don’t take kindly to lies and people backing off deals.”
I feel the blood drain from my face.
“He wants Gabriella.” I knew Diego couldn’t be trusted. He’s playing a game we never agreed to, and now he’s using my daughter as the final piece of leverage in a war I started by reneging on our agreement. “Diego wants my daughter?” I growl, the words barely making it past the lump in my throat. It’s not a question. I already know the answer.
“Yes,” Lincoln interjects, his voice sharper now, realizing the gravity of what he’s involved in. “He doesn’t want the containers for the money, Creed. He wants leverage. He wants the entire operation in his hands. He wants St. Jude’s and if he doesn’t get it, your daughter’s life is at risk.”
“Are you fucking serious?” I spit.
“Now, tell Mackenzie to come upstairs. Let’s talk face-to-face, shall we?”