Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
NIGHTMARE
An hour later…
The smell of Tony’s blood hangs heavy in the air. His head hangs low, face already a busted, swollen mess. Every bruise, every cut, every ragged breath… reminders of how he betrayed Londyn. What he did to Ty. What he tore out of her life like it was nothing.
But what hits me harder than any of that?
Londyn stands five feet away. All of a sudden, silent, unmoving, watching me beat the living shit out of this dude, with cold, unfeeling eyes.
She’s shut down so completely it’s like she’s not even in her own skin. There’s no anger or fear. Like whatever Tony broke, she buried the pieces and walked away.
And that makes my rage boil so hot it shakes my bones.
Circling Tony slowly, my knuckles throb, his blood, drying on my skin. “Look at her,” I snarl. “You did that.”
Lifting his head, the fucker actually smirks with blood sliding down his chin.. “She always did have a stick up her ass.”
My vision snaps white.
I lunge.
I’m inches before impact when Mav slams an arm into my chest, shoving me back.
“Hold it together, Night.” His voice is steady enough to cut through the fog. “We need him breathing. We need him to keep talking.”
My hands shake. I want to tear this motherfucker apart piece by piece. I want him to feel every second of what Ty felt. What Londyn still feels. What she still lives with.
I dial my anger back because Mav’s right. If Tony dies now, Herrera walks. And Londyn stays in danger.
Grabbing his chin, I force his head up. “You can die tied to this chair,” I growl, “or you can give me Herrera. Either way? I’ll be the last face you see.”
“Then I guess I’ll die looking at you,” he says, that same stupid blood-stained smile plastered on his face.
Behind me, Lolo lets out the softest breath. Not fear. Not disgust. Just nothing.
The woman who was full of passion last night is gone, and that emptiness is gasoline on a fire already out of control.
Pliers in hand, I search her face for a reason to hold back.
All I find is emptiness… a steel, merciless void that gives me permission without saying a word..
Turning my attention back to Tony, that stupid smile drops.
Good.
His jaw cracks under my grip, blood sliding thick down his chin.
“You liked hearing her scream when she walked in and saw her family slaughtered,” I say, letting Londyn hear every damn word. “Let’s see how loud you get.”
“Night,” Maverick warns, but doesn’t stop me because he knows this piece of shit deserves worse.
When I lock the pliers onto Tony’s front tooth, panic flares in his eyes.
I yank… hard… ripping the tooth free.
A raw, ugly scream echoes off the rafters. Blood hits my hand, the whole chair jerking like it’s trying to break away from him.
Londyn doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t blink.
Not one reaction.
The sound of her silence feeds my rage.
Maverick steps in. “Give us Herrera and this ends.”
Tony sobs, choking. “F-fuck you…”
I lean in, voice low. “You first, bitch!.”
Grabbing the next tooth, I keep my eyes on Londyn as I rip it from Tony’s skull.
His wails rattle the room, but she’s stone.
Because she’s seen worse.
She saw Ty’s destroyed body. Saw her parents mutilated. Saw what Tony’s cartel left of them… execution style… in her childhood home.
That kind of horror doesn’t just harden you. It hollows you out.
She walked in on hell, and the woman she was, never made it back out.
So seeing Tony suffer means nothing to her, and that kills something inside me.
Blood mists the air as Tony convulses, crying, begging without even forming words.
Londyn watches like she’s watching someone fold laundry.
That emptiness… it snaps something in me.
Snatching the knife from the table raise it high, every ounce of what she’s lost tearing through me, driving me to end this fucker’s life right here, right now.
Maverick slams into me, grabbing my wrist so hard pain shoots up my arm. “Night! STOP!”
But I push forward anyway, dragging him with me. “Let go. LET GO!”
“You kill him, we lose Herrera!” he snarls, muscles locking around me.
“I don’t give a damn” I roar. “He EXECUTED THEM!”
Maverick holds my arms, putting his full weight into restraining me. “And she saw it! That’s why you STOP!”
But I don’t.
I can’t.
I’m gone… completely swallowed by the rage.
Then a hand presses against my chest. Small. Warm. Lolo.
She doesn’t shove. Doesn’t beg, just says my name.
“Nightmare.”
It’s barely above a whisper, but it breaks me.
My knees nearly buckle, but Maverick tightens his grip, holding me upright as my breath comes in sharp, ragged bursts
Lolo’s eyes meet mine.
Empty.
Destroyed.
I’d burn the entire damn world for her, but she’s already standing in the ashes.
Tony’s barely conscious, babbling through blood. Mav keeps me locked in place, muscles coiled, pulse hammering. Then there’s my woman…moving slow, controlled, her gaze sharp enough to cut, and terrifyingly calm.
Stepping toward Tony, she approaches him like he’s a dying animal. His eyes widen, body trembling under her shadow.
“Londyn,” Maverick warns.
She ignores him.
She ignores me.
Her stare drills into the man who destroyed her world.
It isn’t numbness.
It’s grief that sears through her, hot and unyielding.
Tony lifts his ruined face toward her, tears mixing with blood. “I’ll talk,” he sobs. “I’ll tell you anything…just… just don’t… please, don’t let him… no more… ”
Londyn tilts her head, studying him the way you’d examine a stain on your shoe.
“Tell us where Herrera is,” she says, voice dead and soft.
Tony gulps air like he’s drowning. “Warehouse off Jonesboro road. B-by the old tracks. We… we used it… f-for drops. For shipments. I swear… I swear… ”
Tony whimpers as she steps closer.
Crouching slowly, she brings herself level with him, and when she speaks, her voice isn’t shaky. It’s steady. Too steady.
“You killed my family in that house, Tony.”
His breath stutters.
Londyn’s eyes don’t soften. “My mother cooked dinner in that kitchen. My father watched football in that chair. Ty used to sleep on the couch with a blanket over his head.”
Tony’s chin trembles violently.
“And you,” she whispers, “you sat with them. Ate with them. Looked them in the eyes. And then your people walked into their house… my house… tied them up, tortured them, and shot them while they begged for their lives.”
She leans in until her forehead nearly touches his.
Her voice doesn’t rise. It doesn’t crack.
It sharpens.
“You took my entire world.”
Tony breaks into sobs so hard he can’t breathe.
Londyn doesn’t move.
“Now,” she says, tilting her head, “you’re sorry?”
Tony nods wildly. “Yes… yes… please… I’m s-sorry, I’m so… ”
“Shh.” She cuts him off with a soft finger to his busted lips, like she’s soothing a child.
Her voice is colder than the concrete beneath us.
“You’re only sorry,” she sneers, “because you lived long enough to understand what fear feels like.”
Tony goes silent.
Absolutely silent.
She straightens slowly, her face still empty. For a moment, she just stands there, looking down at him like she’s staring at the corpse of her old life.
And then she smiles.
Not with joy.
Not with revenge.
With something unhinged and beautifully broken.
Tony sobs. “I… I told you… Herrera… I swear I’m trying…”
Her voice almost sounds gentle. “You think that’s enough?”
She reaches out, and Tony thinks it’s pity… until her fingers twist into his hair and snap his head back. His scream is sharp, high, helpless.
He doesn’t get to finish.
She pulls a small silver blade from her waistband, one none of us noticed.
My stomach drops, and Maverick’s grip tightens..
But there’s no stopping her.
She leans in, whispering against Tony’s ear.
“This is for my mother.”
She drives the blade up under his jaw, straight into the carotid.
Tony starts choking on his own blood.
“This is for my father.”
She twists.
Blood pours thick down her arm.
Tony spasms.
“And this…” Her voice goes quiet. Eerily quiet. “This is for Ty.”
She pulls the blade across his throat.
Clean. Precise. Absolute.
Tony twitches once. Then he’s gone.
The entire room goes silent.
Even the air seems to hold its breath.
Lolo stays there for a few seconds, crouching in front of the body. Blood dripping from her blade onto the concrete.
Then she stands.
Calm.
Cold.
Unshaken.
Wiping the blade on Tony’s shirt, she folds the knife, and tucks it away. Every movement precise, and practiced.
She turns.
Her eyes meet mine.
Empty.
Broken.
Gone.
And before either of us can say a word, she says the sentence that shatters something inside me:
“Now I know where to start.”
Maverick’s grip loosens.
Because we both know she’s not talking about following a lead.
She’s talking about a hunt.
And Tony?
Tony is just the beginning.