Chapter 41
Forty-One
Thorn
Consciousness returns in blips and spurts of sensation.
The cold concrete beneath my hip.
The tang of iron in my mouth.
The hard metal of the cuffs that are clamped so tightly my fingers have gone numb.
The unforgiving steel of the chair I’m tied to.
And Sergio’s voice sliding through the dark like oil drifting toward the sea. “Do you remember this room, brother?”
Yes.
Unfortunately.
Because it means I’m no longer in California, no longer close to River. Because it means I’m too fucking close to the past.
The cold-storage facility beneath the old funeral home looks worse than it did when I was sixteen.
Rust clings to the ceiling beams.
Broken tiles mar the floor.
Brown water stains crawl down old stone walls.
But it’s more than just what I’m seeing—it’s what I’m feeling, hearing, remembering.
Men begging for their lives. The crunch of bones breaking. The thunk of fists connecting with prone bodies. The clinks of metal tools. The soft clicks of guns being loaded.
And the booms of gunshots ringing out.
I swallow blood and lift my head to smile at Sergio. “I remember.”
He stands several feet away, his suit jacket gone, the sleeves of his button down rolled up to his elbows like this is a fucking business meeting instead of a kidnapping.
I flex my hands, trying to get some sensation back. “Do you remember?”
For a moment, his eyes flicker.
And I know he does.
The first time we were in this room, what we did here, how he reacted when we were done.
And how I washed away the evidence of his vomit on the floor, wiped the tears from his cheeks, held him up until the monster inside him took over.
It’s enough to rattle the rage inside me, for the cage housing it to threaten to give way.
I reach for the key, know that the monster will help me survive this—
No, Thorn, it won’t. Don’t let them do this to you.
River’s voice in my head has me slamming back down into myself, the rage disappearing and all the pain flooding in—my ribs, my face, the back of my head.
Pain is information.
The Lyons taught me that before they taught me anything useful.
But right now, it’s too much information—I can’t think, can barely draw in a full breath.
God, being the monster was so much easier.
But it wasn’t living, the River in my head says.
No. It wasn’t. So, I exhale. Breathe. Think.
Sergio steps closer. “You were meant for more than this, Thorn.”
“No,” I rasp. “I was meant to leave.”
His smile fades. “Because you think you’re better than us?”
My first instinct is to disagree, to tell him I’m just another piece of shit who doesn’t deserve anything good or bright or beautiful. But then I don’t just hear River’s voice—I feel her in my heart, my soul. “I know I am.”
He lifts his fist and punches me hard enough that my head snaps sideways.
The room tilts, then steadies.
Sergio crouches in front of me, his eyes bright with old cruelty and new desperation. “You always were an ungrateful fuck.” He punches me again. “Walking away from your family—”
I laugh. “This was never my family.”
Another punch.
This one splits skin somewhere near my eyebrow, and I blink away the blood.
Hold on, Thorn.
Sergio leans close. “She’ll leave when she knows everything.”
I hold tight to her voice in my head…and not the monster that used to consume me. I hold tight to the woman who loves every part of me and the man I’ve learned to become since she gave me her heart. Then I smirk at this asshole who used to be my brother. “She already knows it all.”
Sergio eyes flare with anger, and he grabs a metal bar from the table, lifts it—
Right as the door swings open…and Angela walks in like she owns the place.
Her trench coat swings around her ankles, her sunglasses hang from her shirt, and her heels click as she walks across the tile floor.
Sergio turns toward her, slowly lowering the pipe. “Angela,” he grits out.
“Sergio,” she chirps. “Is there a reason you’re damaging Lyon property?” Her gaze flicks over me, seeming to take in every inch of me in a second, though there’s not even the slightest visible reaction on her face, in her body.
Nerves of fucking steel.
“You look terrible,” she says amusedly.
I breathe out something close to a laugh. “Sorry to disappoint.”
“Ah, well, it’s nothing that a little time won’t put to rights.” A smirk. “I’m sure Sergio will have more fun later.” Then she brushes her hands together, clearly dismissing me as she turns to him. “Let’s go.”
“Go where?” Sergio snaps.
“I believe we have a meeting to attend.”
His eyes go wide. “You got it?”
Angela slips one hand into her coat and holds up a flash drive. “What do you think?”
Sergio’s eyes gleam. “Give it to me.”
Angela smiles faintly. “Tut. Tut. You’ve always been too eager.” She slips it back into her pocket. “You’ll have to wait for the others.” A toss of her head as she turns for the door. “You can play more with your boy toy later. Right now, I want what I’ve worked so hard to earn.”
“You’re such a fucking bitch.”
“Maybe.” A shrug. “But at least you always know what you get with me.”
“Yeah, a fucking mercenary.”
She laughs. “That’s hilarious, coming from you.”
He glares. “Fuck you.”
“Not on your life.” She pulls open the door. “Time to go. I don’t want to be late.”
Sergio is still for one long moment. Then he storms through the door and out into the hall. Angela doesn’t look at me.
Rather, she looks past me before she closes the door.
I wait a moment, making sure they don’t come back, but when my own gaze shifts to the darkness on the far side of the room, my blood turns to ice.
There’s a shadow in the vent.
No. Not a shadow.
A person.
No, no, no.
River.
I can’t see her clearly at first—just a pale face in the darkness, eyes fixed on me with such fierce, terrified determination that something in my chest tears open.
But I know it’s her.
She came. Of course she came.
Fury and relief collide so violently inside me I almost can’t breathe.
Then the vent slides open and River is climbing out. She rushes over to me, hands shaking as she unlocks the cuffs.
I pull her into my arms. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“God, honey, you look terrible.”
“And you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” I tug her toward me and slant my mouth over hers, kissing her deeply for one brief moment, needing to prove to myself that she’s here, that this is real..
“Great,” she pants when I pull back. “Now I just feel rude.”
I chuckle…then groan as my ribs protest.
“Come on,” she murmurs, shoving her shoulder beneath mine and helping me to my feet. “Pascal and the others are coming. So, we need to get out of here before—”
Gunshots ring out.
“That,” she whispers.
“Let’s go,” I say and we turn for the vent.
Not soon enough.
The door flies open, Sergio standing in the opening.
“Shit,” she murmurs, her arm flexing around me.
Sergio reaches for his gun.
I step in front of River, know with or without that monster, I’m not going to let him hurt her. “Don’t.”
He just grins as he prowls closer. “Oh, Thorn,” he says. “I don’t know why you think you have any control here.”
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Angela says and we all freeze as she strolls into the room, her affect casual, but her eyes sharp.
“Mind your own business, Angela,” he snaps.
“I thought we were working on this together.”
“He has nothing to do with you,” Sergio growls. “Now go the fuck away.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Angela says and something about her tone has us all turning…
To see her holding the drive from earlier aloft.
“What are you doing?”
“Let him go, Sergio,” she says.
He’s silent for a long moment then his eyes go wide. “Holy fuck. It’s you,” he whispers. “You’re the mole.”
A roll of her eyes. “Don’t be a moron. Now lower your gun,” she says. “We’ve got real problems to deal with.”
He turns the pistol away from me…
Then points it at her.
Fuck.
“You don’t want to do that, Sergio,” she begins.
“Why not?” he asks.
“Yes, Angela,” another voice says, “why not?”
My father steps into the room followed by the other members of the Board. Eight of them—five men, three women, all with cold eyes and cruel smiles.
“Because while we’re here comparing dick measurements,” Angela says, “Pascal’s team is—”
“Trying to break in to the facility,” my father says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Yes, we know. And yes, we’re prepared for that. So, save us the bullshit and just give us the drive before I put a bullet in your head.”
Angela holds it out. “You mean this drive?”
He jerks, like he’s going to lurch forward and grab it.
She draws it back, tossing it from side to side in her hands and seeming to weigh her next words very carefully.
“You know what’s funny?” she says, her heels clicking on the floor as she drifts toward us, as she positions herself between me and River and the gun.
“It’s that you never even considered that Pascal’s team may not be here…
” She pauses dramatically, taps the flash drive to her lips.
“But rather somewhere else. Somewhere far more important.” She lifts her brow. “At least to you.”
My father scowls. “What—?”
Her smile is just as cold as my father’s was earlier. “I found the archive and—” A pause as her phone beeps. She pulls it out of her pocket and then her smile grows. “Oh, look at that. Pascal and the FBI have managed to access it.”
My father steps toward her. “You fucking—”
She drops the flash drive.
For one second, it remains suspended mid-air.
Then it hits the concrete.
Sergio dives for it, but Angela’s already lifted her foot. A heartbeat later, her heel comes down.
Crack!
“Bitch,” she finishes. “Yeah, yeah. I know. But with the archive gone, I don’t think you’ll be needing your exit plan either—”
Boom!
The gunshot is loud, echoing across the room.
I flinch, turning to cover River.
But my father wasn’t aiming for me.
Angela grunts and wavers but she doesn’t go down. Instead, she clamps a hand to her bleeding side and says, “You dumb, dumb fuck.”
He opens his mouth—
And Attie’s voice explodes through hidden speakers. “Federal agents. Hands where we can see them.”
Chaos explodes around us as men rush into the room, shouting orders, exchanging gunfire. I drop to the ground, covering River’s body with my own.
The hail slows, quiets, and I twist to the side, the monster inside me flexing its claws just one more time.
“Angela, down!” I yell just as Sergio pulls out a knife and hurls it at Angela.
Too late, I launch myself at him.
River screams.
Old rage flares through me.
And that monster runs free.
I lift my fist and hit Sergio hard enough to drive him into the concrete. Then again. And again. My hand closes around his throat, starts to squeeze.
“Do it,” he wheezes. “Show her.”
I look up.
See that Angela’s fallen to her knees, her hands pressing to her stomach…the knife’s hilt protruding from her belly.
River stands next to her, pale and shaking.
But she’s not afraid of me.
Not even now.
Not with blood on my face and my hands squeezing the life out of Sergio and the monster out in the open.
Her eyes hold mine. Steady. Certain. Telling me to come back to her. Telling me the monster is welcome here.
That every part of me is welcome.
And loved.
She doesn’t say it aloud.
But then again, she doesn’t need to.
I see it in her eyes, feel it in my soul, know it in my heart.
I release Sergio, and Attie’s agents swarm in, taking him into custody.
Not because he deserves mercy.
Because I deserve to live the life I make, even if the monster lives inside me, even if the man is sometimes uncertain and often imperfect. Even if the path to get here was fucked-up and twisted and dark. Because…
I’m not a monster.
I’m a survivor.
River reaches me the second I stand, throwing herself into my arms and setting fire to my ribs.
Not that I give a fuck.
I just wrap myself around her and breathe her in, so damned thankful for the gifts I’ve been given.
“You came,” I rasp into her hair.
“Always,” she says back.
And there in that room of people who tried to destroy me and those who helped me turn back from the edge, I kiss her.
And she kisses me back for a long, long time.
Kisses me until Angela’s voice cuts through the room. “If you two are finished canoodling, I seem to have been shot.” A pained breath. “And stabbed.”
River jerks away from me, and we turn to Angela.
Blood seeps between her fingers.
But instead of scared, Angela looks pissed off.
Someone walks over with a med pack and begins pulling out gauze. But there’s a lot of blood and Angela’s gone pale.
Very pale.
River moves over to her, takes her hand.
If Angela didn’t look a second away from death, her reaction to that show of care would be hilarious.
“Thank you,” River whispers, holding tighter.
Angela’s expression closes down. “Don’t.”
“Angela,” I say firmly.
Her eyes flick to mine.
“Thank you.”
A sound of disgust. “Sentimental fools.”
Then she loses her fight with consciousness and slumps back against the concrete.
River stays with her until she’s rolled out on a gurney. Then she turns into me, careful of my ribs this time around, and hugs me. “Underneath it all, she’s just a big softie, isn’t she?”
I hold her closer. “I’m starting to think she might be exactly that.”
A breath. “Good thing our family always has room for one more.”
“I’m not sure she’ll like that.”
River’s chin comes up. “I’m pretty sure she doesn’t have a choice in the matter.”
Laughter in my belly.
Love in my heart.
But I know she’s right.
Because no more walking through hell alone.
No more deciding love is safer from a distance.
No more letting the Lyons define what we’re allowed to keep—
Even for those who think they’re the most unworthy.