Chapter 39
Thirty-Nine
Thorn
My first—albeit not my only mistake—is thinking I know every horror that will come for me.
I need to keep River safe.
Make sure Brooks and Briar and the others are too.
Get the information and use it to take the Lyons down.
It seems…well, not simple, exactly. But doable, especially with the truth out in the open and all of us working together.
And it goes smoothly at first.
Angela delivers on her complete drive.
Pascal and his team snag the one from the Jardin facility.
And Attie and the FBI recover the other.
We reach the end of the shell company line…and discover the Board will be meeting at the end of the week. Here in town.
Obviously, it’s a trap.
A way to draw us somewhere where they can eliminate their enemies, once and for all.
But we know that.
So we’ll go in prepared.
Or that’s the plan, anyway.
But the plan did not take into consideration that I would be snatched from the sidewalk in front of my office building.
The Lyons work in the shadows.
Not grabbing people off the sidewalk in the middle of the day.
It’s too public. Too risky.
They prefer parking lots and dark side streets and gloomy abandoned buildings.
But I should have known better.
Ghosts from the past are patient.
Persistent.
And it doesn’t matter how prepared we are, doesn’t matter how many plans I put in place—the Lyons are dangerous.
I twist at my hands, and the cuffs clink softly.
Not softly enough, though.
I grunt at the blow to my head, feeling my skin split open and blood drips down my face.
“Don’t even try it,” Sergio mutters, shoving me forward.
With my hands cuffed behind me, I don’t have any way to break my fall.
I hit hard enough to bruise, pain rippling through my ribs, my back, my hip. “Try what?” I wheeze. “To get away from your disgusting breath? You never did remember to floss—” I grunt when he kicks me. “You call that a kick? Are you getting weak in your old age?”
He repeats the maneuver.
Then again.
And again.
My vision edges toward black, my side on fire, my nerves in agony, but I don’t cry out. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
“Always did have a big mouth.”
“You—” I grunt again when his boot connects with my side a fourth time. “You’re the one—” Then again. “Who always—” Again. “Talked too much.”
He winds up yet again, and—
A slow clap echoes from the dark.
A man steps into the weak light spilling from the naked bulb overhead.
He looks older than he was in my memories.
Meaner too.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” I rasp.
“Don’t believe everything you hear,” he says with a sickening smile. “Aren’t you happy to see your dear old dad?”
I say nothing.
His smile widens then he looks over at Sergio, his expression growing deadly serious. “Where’s Pascal?”
“We’re securing him now.”
I laugh, not giving a fuck that it hurts like hell.
The man I once considered a brother glares down at me, grits out, “What’s so funny, asshole?”
“It’s just that you’re still such a shit liar.”
The air goes taut.
“Do I need to remind you of the consequences of fucking with the family?” Sergio snaps.
“You can hurt me, can even kill me, but you’re not going to stop the dominos from falling, motherfucker.”
He rears back like he’s going to kick me again but my father places a hand on his shoulder and he freezes.
So do I.
Because my father crouches down and smiles that terrible smile at me.
“Oh, son, we’re not going to kill you.” A pat on my shoulder. “Well, not yet anyway.”
He drops a photo in front of me and rises.
For a second, I don’t look at it, can’t look at it.
Then it’s impossible to look away from the image.
It must have been captured by the penthouse’s security feed because it shows River standing in my kitchen.
Her hair is bundled messily on top of her head.
She’s wearing my shirt.
And there’s flour on her cheek.
Christ, this is from this morning.
She’d made these incredible pancakes, using that immersion blender to make them light and fluffy. I don’t even eat breakfast normally, but I ate those—
And now they sit like concrete in my stomach.
“There he is,” Sergio drawls.
I try to keep my voice even…and fail miserably. “She has nothing to do with this.”
“Of course she does,” my father says and then sighs like I’ve disappointed him. “And really, you should know better by now.”
A lifetime ago, those words would have kept me on the ground, would have kept me weak and terrified.
Today, the monster inside me smiles.
Knows I’ve needed it for precisely this moment.
“You should’ve stayed dead,” I say quietly.
His smile falters.
I get my knees under me, struggle to my feet. “Because I’m going to kill you.”
He rears back and hits me himself.
Pain explodes across my cheek.
Blood fills my mouth.
But I keep my feet, step toward him.
Another blow—this one to the back of my skull—turns my vision blurry.
The room tilts.
My knees give way and I hit the floor again, rage and fear and agony rippling through my body.
Sergio crouches beside me, his mouth close to my ear, his words cold and quiet and cruel. “Don’t worry, brother.” He laughs. “We’ll remind you who you are.”
That monster inside me rears its ugly head.
Because that’s exactly what I’m most afraid of.
Then his fist comes down again and the world goes black.