CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Victoria
I padded my way to the kitchen in search of something to eat. I'd spent the last twenty-four hours or so holed up in my bedroom, alternating between grief and numbness. All the guys had been in and out to check on me periodically, but I hadn't been up for talking other than a few murmured words. Watching my childhood friend be brutally murdered had torn me apart in ways I didn't know were possible.
Between the sleeping pill Joey had given me in the aftermath and the grief, I'd barely nibbled on the meals the guys had brought me throughout the day. The sandwich Craig had brought around lunchtime sat on my nightstand, completely untouched. Joey had come to check in again sometime after Craig had dropped it off and told me everyone except Rich would be gone for most of the evening.
My growling stomach had finally pulled me from my stupor around seven, so I decided to find myself dinner since I doubted Rich would provide delivery service the way Craig and Joey had. The smell of pasta sauce and garlic bread hit me before I made it through the entryway, and my jaw fell open at the sight of Rich by the stove wearing an apron.
"It'll be ready in a minute if you wanna go on and sit." He said, glancing at me over his shoulder.
"I didn't know you cooked." I replied, moving to sit on a stool at the island.
"I'm no Craig, but my Ma made sure Joey, and I knew how to take care of ourselves. I'm pretty sure she'd still tan our hides if either of us were in a position to feed you and didn't do the cooking." He chuckled.
"Your mom's still alive?" I don't know why the fact shocked me, but it did.
"Pop too. Joey and me put them up in a little place in Midtown with our very first big score."
I arched a brow at him. "Your folks know about your business?"
"Enough." He shrugged, returning his attention to the stove as he began to plate spaghetti. "They don't care to know the details, but they're legacy Southside. General consensus is so long as we stick to the morals they raised us with, that's as much as they care to know. They know that sometimes the only way to make it out alive is to be the biggest bad."
I tried to stop the little laugh that erupted out of me and ended up covering it with a cough. "And you think you guys are the biggest bad?"
Rich slid the plates onto the kitchen island and pinned me to the spot with a wicked grin that had butterflies raising hell in my stomach.
"You have no idea, Princess."
I cleared my throat and pulled the plate of spaghetti closer. Rich sat opposite me, and we ate in silence for a few moments.
"There's something we need to discuss, Princess." He said, breaking the silence.
"Did you find something to help with whatever you guys were planning after Noah?" I asked, a sense of dread settling into my stomach.
"No," He frowned. "It's about the text messages you've been getting. Az found them yesterday."
"Az went through my phone?" I bit out, angry at the intrusion.
"Not intentionally, no. As far as I'm aware, he was silencing your phone so you could rest when one of the threats you've been getting came through. We're pretty sure we know who's been sending them, but what we don't know is why you didn't tell us about them."
"You guys haven't exactly had the greatest track record of treating me like an adult." I scoffed. "If I told you I was getting creepy texts from my ex, you'd have tried to lock me down again."
"I can understand why you might think that, but we'd agreed some time ago to start working together to keep you safe. We can't do that if you're hiding things from us, Princess."
"I can handle fucking Benson without your help."
"You really think that twit is behind them? He's an entitled, narcissistic prick, sure. But this is more than that."
"I literally saw him texting seconds before a message came through. Of course it's Benson. Who the fuck else would it be?" I shot back. "Speaking of my phone, where is it?"
"Craig has your phone. He's double-checking who we think is responsible for the threats you've been getting. I think there's very little chance it will be anyone else. And once we have the confirmation we need, we have a plan for how we're going to deal with it." He said calmly.
"One, who do you think it is? Two, how can you be certain? And three, do I get to know what this plan is since it's to do with my texts?" I demanded, holding up a finger with each number.
"One, Rinaldo Marino. Two, because of the last message you received and what we learned from our guest. Three, yes… but you're not going to like it." He responded, reaching across the island and pushing down each of my fingers with his responses.
A wave of nausea washed over me, and I knew if I looked in a mirror, my face would be deathly pale. "What did he send, Rich?" My voice trembled.
He fished his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and looked at it momentarily. "There's… a picture with it. Are you sure you want to know?"
Even as fear over whatever might have been sent rolled through me, my resolve to know the reasoning never wavered. As often as the guys had pissed me off, they'd never lied to me, not once.
"Please," I whispered. "I need to know."
"It was Noah…" He answered quietly.
I pushed off the bar stool so fast it clattered to the floor and raced around the island to the sink. I didn't need more than what he'd said to know what he meant. The memory of my friend being murdered flashed through my mind as I heaved into the empty basin, emptying the little I'd eaten down the drain. I felt Rich's hand on my back, gently rubbing circles, with the other pulling my hair out of my face and holding it out of the way while I emptied my stomach.
He didn't say anything; he just stood and offered silent comfort while I cried after the dry heaving had stopped. Somewhere in my mind, I appreciated that he gave no shallow platitudes while I worked my way back to composure. Taking several deep breaths, I lifted off the sink, gripping the edges. I stared at it without really seeing it for a long time. He shifted to give me a little space but didn't remove his hand from my back.
"So, what's the plan to make him stop?" I asked finally.
He heaved a heavy sigh. His fingers trailed lightly across my back as he let his hand fall away and stepped back from me.
"We're going to attempt to buy you from Rinaldo," he said solemnly.
I turned slowly to face him, leaning against the sink for support as my eyes roved over him. His face was twisted in regret, his shoulders tensed, every part of him screaming that he didn't like the idea, even if he intended to go through with it.
"Okay," I nodded. "If it means no more of my friends die because of some sick obsession, then okay."
His head snapped up to look at me, searching my face. "Just… okay?"
"I'm not exactly thrilled at the idea of someone owning me, but if it had to be anyone…" I shrugged. "You're all uptight assholes and you piss me off, but even I know the horsemen don't trade in skin."
"Princess, we wouldn't own you–"
A loud boom shook the house, cutting him off. Before I could ask what was happening, Rich grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the camera room at a clipped pace. I stumbled, tripping over my feet and nearly falling as I attempted to keep up. Smoke was pouring into the billiards room.
"Shit, where are our fucking men?" He scowled.
Movement at the end of the gallery caught my attention just as we turned the corner to the grand foyer.
"Rich…" I managed to croak out. "I think someone is in the house."
"Yes, Princess, there's someone in the house," he clipped as he pulled me into the dining room. "And none of my men stopped them."
He pushed open the catch in the wall and slid the door open to the camera room.
"Why aren't we leaving?" I demanded as we stepped inside. The thought of being discovered in that small space caused my body to seize with panic.
Rich paused long enough to look me over and frowned. "Your father really did keep you out of the fucking loop. Princess, we chose this room to set up our own surveillance of the house and property because it's secure. It's a panic room. We don't have time for me to get into any more than that, but you'll be safe in here."
"You can't leave me in here alone!" I shrieked as he stepped clear of the door, leaning inside the room just far enough to punch a code into the number pad on the wall.
"You're not alone, Babygirl." He said, giving me a reassuring smile as the door slid shut between us.
"Rich!" I shrieked, banging my fists against the door.
My pleas were met with silence, and I finally turned to face the monitors in the hopes of tracking Rich as he moved through the house. The gym and utility room were in complete disarray. Whatever the intruder had used to breach the manor had blown bits of wood and glass inward and destroyed the equipment and items along the wall.
Three men stood inside the great room, a fourth still in the gallery peeking into the bathroom that shared a wall with the camera room. My eyes flitted over the screens until I finally found Rich. He was leaning against the door in the office nearest my rooms, though I couldn't tell exactly what he was doing there.
I held my breath as he tucked something in the waistband of his pants before he turned and bolted for the door to the veranda. I lost sight of him when he moved toward the front of the house. My eyes settled back on the four men who were now working as a team, moving through the manor with military precision as they breached the doors of my rooms. My heart pounded frantically as I searched for the button to enable audio.
The sound of a window breaking just as I found the button and turned it on echoed in the silence. The four intruders were still in my rooms, huddled together and speaking in a low murmur, meaning someone else had broken the window. My eyes flew across the screens again, finding Rich climbing into his bedroom window. I sagged down into the nearest computer chair in relief.
My eyes bounced between the screens as I struggled to watch for Rich to reemerge on camera and the four intruders. I nearly missed when three slipped upstairs, leaving one in the foyer. My breaths came in sharp gasps as Rich appeared in the gallery, racing silently toward the end and glancing around the corner.
The lone intruder stood in the foyer, facing the door, and didn't see Rich creeping up on him. He moved with the precision of a predator closing in on its prey as he closed the gap between himself and the intruder. I held my breath, my eyes transfixed on the screen as if some movement from me might shatter his approach.
In one swift move, Rich closed the final distance between them, wrapping his arm around the intruder's neck from behind. The other man jolted with surprise, his hands instinctively reaching up to claw at Rich's arm.
The struggle intensified after a moment as the would-be attacker fought against Rich's grip. His legs kicked out, his body contorting in his attempt to struggle away. Rich, however, maintained his hold with a look of fatal determination. As the seconds ticked by for what felt like an eternity, the stranger's movements weakened as his resistance faded.
Then, in a single fluid motion, Rich twisted his body harshly. The distinct crack of breaking bone resonated through the room from the speakers, chilling in its finality. The intruder's body went limp.
As I watched Rich unceremoniously drop the lifeless body to the floor, my pulse raced with secondhand adrenaline. A part of my brain felt the weight of what I'd just witnessed, but I couldn't help but be relieved he was alright. The knowledge that others were still in the house dulled the sense of relief.
Rich moved toward his right, heading back into the dining room. I followed his movements on the security camera feed, leaning so close to the monitors that I nearly jumped out of my skin when his voice called out through the screen.
"Just stay put, Princess. This will be over soon, and I'll let you out." He said as he stared into the camera above the door.
My hand reached out and hovered over the intercom button. I was torn between wanting to scream at him and not wanting to give his location away to the three remaining men in the manor. He stared into the camera for a moment as if he could see me through it. My fingers reached out and trailed along his image on the screen.
"You better not die, bossy pants." I muttered, even though I knew he couldn't hear me.
The words had barely left my lips when movement behind Rich snagged my attention. I screamed in horror as one of the invaders barreled into Rich from behind. Rich twisted to face his attacker before they landed on the hardwood floor in a tangled heap. My eyes stayed locked on the screen, unable to look away from the pair writhing on the floor as Rich fought to take control.
The room filled with the sounds of their fight–grunts, shouts, and the thud of fists colliding with bodies. Each movement was met with a countermove, an exchange of strength and technique, and each maneuver aimed at gaining the upper hand.
Rich's attacker clawed at his face, attempting to escape his grip. But Rich held him firmly and retaliated with strength and calculated precision to deliver devastating blows. Their struggle became a symphony of controlled violence.
As I watched the intense struggle unfold through the camera feed, a second man appeared on the monitor, stalking toward them. Terror ripped through me, everything seeming to move in slow motion. Grunts and the sound of fists pounding against flesh filled the space around me. Rich had barely gained the upper hand with the man who'd tackled him to the ground when the second intruder lurched forward to close the distance between them.
The man had moved so fast that I barely caught sight of the knife in his hand before it was embedded in Rich's shoulder. My former warden and protector arched back, pinning the man under him to the floor with one hand around his throat while the other reached back, grabbing at the knife. A surge of panic gripped me. I instinctively slammed my hand down on the button for the intercom just as his captive shifted amid the chaos, revealing another knife.
"RICH!" I screamed a second too late.
He roared in agony, the second knife plunging deep into his thigh. Something seemed to snap inside him, his hand releasing the other man's throat and wrenching the blade free of his leg. Jerking to his feet, he leveled a vicious kick to the head of the man on the floor, rendering him unconscious. The room fell into a momentary stillness as Rich turned to face the second invader, his back to the camera.
Though I couldn't see his expression, I could almost feel the crackling intensity in the air as his movements held a frightening edge. The man who'd stabbed him in the shoulder stumbled back, fear creeping into his features. Undeterred, Rich advanced, crowding him until his back was against the far wall.
"Please, man. This was just a job." The man pleaded, his hands raised in a feeble attempt to surrender. His voice trembled with desperation.
Rich didn't respond as he lodged the knife into the man's throat, the force of his attack pinning the man to the wall behind him with the blade, his life slipping away. Turning back toward the camera room, Rich ripped the knife from his shoulder, his gaze pinned on the unconscious man. I held my breath as he strode across the room, crouching beside the motionless figure. The room filled with a deafening silence as he dragged the knife across the man's throat, neutralizing the chance of him rising to pose a threat again.
His eyes flicked to the camera once he was confident the immediate threat was eliminated. The brutal edge that had defined his features moments ago melted away as concern slowly took its place. Before either of us could speak, a shot rang out. Time ground to a halt as Rich's body jerked forward, propelled by the impact of the bullet, a pained grunt slipping from his lips.
"No!" I screamed, my voice filled with anguish. I pressed my hand to the screen as if I could shield him from where I stood.
He turned toward the archway that marked the passage between the foyer and dining room. My eyes slid from him to the camera covering the threshold, and I caught sight of the fourth man just as he pulled the trigger a second time before turning to run for the front door. The sound of the gunfire reverberated through the room. Tears welled in my eyes as I saw Rich's form stumble and falter, his strength and resilience challenged by his wounds.
My heart pounded in my ears as I watched him turn back to the camera as if he could hear my desperate cries urging him to find the strength to endure. His body gave out under the weight of the pain, and he collapsed on the floor.
I ran toward the door of the panic room. Tears streamed down my face as I pounded on the solid surface, the echoes of my pleas bouncing around me. The panic room's impenetrable walls denying me any response or solace. But I couldn't give up, pushing away the thoughts that he lay dying on the dining room floor, and I was helplessly trapped.
"Rich! Don't you fucking die on me! Rich !" I screamed, pounding on the door until my hands were scrapped and sore and screaming until my voice cracked.
Silence continued to be my answer.