Chapter Thirty — Jamie
I exhaled a ragged breath the moment Marcus was out of sight. That had gone better than I expected.
One down. Two to go.
I checked my watch, my pulse hammering a steady rhythm against my skin. Draeon was supposed to be here five minutes ago.
Exactly five minutes after that, the heavy entry doors groaned.
My brother came into view, and an unexpected wave of emotion hit me square in the chest. He looked more like our momma than I did, completely missing my daddy’s rich onyx skin.
He was older now. He had the same cold eyes and the same easy smile that never quite reached his face.
He was wearing a gray designer sweater, jeans that probably cost as much as rent in a luxury complex, and a stack of expensive rings glittering on his fingers.
To my absolute surprise, his face actually softened the second his eyes landed on me. We had never been close; he was older, and growing up, he had never really paid me any mind.
"Draeon."
"Little sister."
Behind him stood two men. They weren't the soldiers I remembered from back in the day—these were new faces. The old ones were probably casualties of the game. You either ended up dead or buried in a cage when you dealt with my family.
"Long time no see," I said, keeping my hands visible.
"Eight years." He tilted his head, studying me the way you'd study a painting you weren't entirely sure was a real masterpiece. "You look good. Life on the run agrees with you."
"Life on the run keeps me breathing. Unlike staying."
Something dangerous flickered across his face, gone as fast as it came. "You could've talked to us," he said, his voice dropping. "Instead, you dipped out like a thief in the night."
"I dipped like a human being." I kept my voice perfectly flat, though my jaw was clenching hard enough to crack a tooth. "You were gonna sell me, Draeon."
He had the absolute nerve to look at me like I was the one losing my mind. "That was business."
"I'm your sister."
"And I'm your brother! And our lives were on the line!
" he snapped, trying to twist the knife and make me the bad guy.
"We needed you to do what needed to be done. I have to make sacrifices every single day, but you can’t?
You know everything I know. You could have handled your new hubby and been back home in a month.
You think I enjoyed having to agree to that shit? "
"I don't give a fuck what you enjoyed."
Draeon ground his teeth together, his chest heaving under the gray sweater. "Come home," he muttered, reaching a hand out. "Talk to him. Maybe—"
"Maybe?" I stepped directly into his space, close enough to see the pulse ticking violently in his throat. "There is no maybe, Draeon. I’m never going back.”
He stared down at me, his eyes narrowing into slits. ”Then what the fuck did you call me here for?”
Right on cue, the warehouse door behind him opened. I looked past his shoulder and pointed.
"For her."
Lady of Rage walked in. Six heavily armed men flanked her, weapons drawn and ready.
Rage took three dominant steps into the warehouse before her eyes found me. Her mouth twisted into a lethal, ugly sneer. "Well, look who finally decided to stop hiding."
I just smiled.
Then her gaze slid past me, locking onto Draeon.
Moving in perfect sync, my brother and I drew our Glocks at the exact same fraction of a second, leveling the barrels straight at her heart.
Rage froze like someone had pressed pause on her universe. The entire warehouse went dead silent.
Her eyes darted between our weapons. She saw it. The setup. The bitch thought she was invincible; she actually thought I called her here to casually bargain for my life. She should have known better. I shook my head at her.
Rage took a single, cautious step backward.
SLAM.
The massive warehouse doors behind her crew crashed shut, the heavy metal echoing through the space like a gunshot.
Before she could react, the office door upstairs burst open. Rage's head snapped toward the noise as Marcus Beaumont appeared on the catwalk, pure, unadulterated murder in his eyes. His country boys flooded out behind him, tracking their rifles down on her crew.
Rage’s face contorted with fury as she glared back at me. "You sneaky little bitch," she spat.
I merely shrugged, keeping my gun steady on her chest.
Marcus stepped down the metal stairs, and when he spoke, the sound was chilling enough to freeze blood. "You killed my sister, you dyke bitch."