Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
LONDYN
I don’t realize I’ve been grabbed until cold steel kisses the side of my skull.
Herrera’s arm locks around my chest, pinning me back against him. The muzzle digging into my temple, hard enough to bruise.
My pulse spikes, but my voice stays level. “Why, Marcus?”
He laughs, low, and bitter. Trembling like he can’t decide if he’s furious or terrified. “Why?” he repeats, tightening his grip. “You really have to ask?”
“Yes,” I snap. “I need to hear you say it. Why you lied. Why you pretended to give a damn. Why you walked me straight into hell.”
His breath fans hot over my ear. “Everything was fine… until you busted Tyrique.”
That stops me cold.
Tyrique?
“What are you talking about?”
“You think that little junkie knew anything?” Herrera snarls. “He didn’t know who he was working for. Didn’t know his ‘connect’ was part of the Mendaro Syndicate. He was supposed to be an easy pawn. Move small weight, keep eyes off us while Tony and I set up distribution in Atlanta.”
My stomach twists. Tyrique… clueless. Used. And I…
“You should’ve left him alone,” Herrera growls. “Perfect Detective Banks always doing things by the book. You ruined everything!”
“Good,” I bite out. “I’d do it again.”
“You don’t get it. We were close. Tony had the precinct in his pocket, and you? You were the perfect shield,” he says, shoving the gun harder into my temple.
I laugh, a sharp, cruel sound I barely recognize. “Tony’s doesn’t have anyone in his pocket anymore.”
Herrera freezes.
Tilting my head just enough to catch his eyes, I say,
“He begged me for his life like a little bitch. You should’ve heard him. I cut his throat so deep he couldn’t even scream.”
A tremor runs through his arm, vibrating against my chest, and I savor it.
“He died choking on his own blood,” I continue, voice steady, but vicious.
“You’re lying,” Herrera breathes, but he sounds like he already knows I’m not.
“You can go see for yourself,” I say. “Well… what’s left of him.”
He yanks me tighter, rage pouring off him in waves. “Shut the fuck up!”
“Nah. I think I’ll keep talking.”
For the first time since my life went to hell, I’m in control.
“Marcus,” I say softly, “you’re next.”
His fingers twitch on the trigger.
Shouting and chaos bleed through the wall. Boots thunder up the stairs as gunfire rips through the warehouse.
Which means Maverick called in the rest of the Royal Bastards.
Herrera curses under his breath.
And I smile.
The door behind us suddenly explodes inward. Light slashes into the room in a hard white burst, followed by two dark silhouettes with guns raised.
Malcolm.
Maverick.
Herrera jams the barrel harder into my temple, dragging me tight against his chest. “One more step and I paint the walls with her blood,” he threatens.
Both of them freeze instantly.
Malcolm’s eyes lock on mine, wide, wild, and terrified.
“Easy,” Maverick says calmly. “Nobody’s moving.”
Herrera lets out a sharp, shaky laugh. “From the sound of it, you’ve already done plenty of moving. Look where it got you.”
Malcolm shifts forward anyway, just half a step. “Harm one hair on her head and I’ll make you suffer.”
Herrera jams the gun even tighter against my temple. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure it’s quick.”
Malcolm’s mouth curls into something mean. “Yeah. About that… Tony didn’t go quick.”
Herrera stiffens.
“He cried,” Malcolm continues, voice casual and cruel. “Sobbed. Begged. Gave us names, routes, stash houses, your whole operation. All of it. Swore you’d save him even if he talked.”
Herrera’s breathing turns ragged. “He wouldn’t…”
“Oh, he did. Sang like a fucking canary.” Malcolm tilts his head. “Then… Londyn cut his throat.”
Silence crashes into the room.
I feel it the second Herrera realizes it’s true. His grip falters. The gun trembles against my skin.
“She… she wouldn’t…” he whispers.
I smile.
“It was beautiful,” I say softly.
His attention snaps to my face.
Wrong move.
Slamming my elbow back into his ribs, I twist out of his hold, and rip the gun from his hand in one hard motion. I don’t hesitate. I fire once into his chest.
He staggers back, shock frozen on his face.
I take aim and pull the trigger twice more.
Three shots.
Three lives.
He hits the wall sliding down, leaving a dark smear behind as he crumples to the floor.
The silence afterward is worse than the noise before.
Malcolm’s hands are on my shoulders, his voice in my ear, but it sounds distant, muted, like I’m hearing him through water. My knees finally give out. The gun slips from my fingers as I hit the concrete hard.
And that’s it.
Everything I’ve been holding in for weeks finally tears loose.
The sound that rips out of me is wrecked and raw. I fold forward, clutching my ribs like I can physically keep myself from coming apart. My parents. Ty. Blood streaked across the floor of the house I grew up in. Herrera. Tony. The betrayal. All of it crashes through me at once.
Malcolm moves to grab me.
“Don’t,” I choke. “Please… don’t.”
He freezes.
Then he does something I don’t expect.
He backs off.
One step. Then another.
He stays close enough that I feel him there, but far enough to give me space. To let me break without being restrained, without being watched too closely.
My shoulders shake so hard I can barely breathe.
“They’re still gone,” I sob. “I killed them… but my family’s still gone.
”No one interrupts.
No one rushes me.
Maverick turns his back slightly, already pulling his phone out. “Yeah,” he says quietly into it. “It’s done… No, not just you. I want the whole damn team. Burn unit, transport, all of it.”
A pause.
“Warehouse on Jonesboro. We’ll secure it till you get here.”
He hangs up, turning to Malcolm. “Dementor’s bringing everyone. This place will disappear.”
Good.
That’s what it deserves.
Maverick crouches a few feet in front of me, just enough that I don’t feel trapped. “You did right by your family,” he says quietly.
I lift my head enough to look at him.
“You didn’t have to come,” I say. “You didn’t have to risk your brothers. Your club.”
His eyes don’t waver. “Yeah. We did.”
My throat tightens.
“Thank you for having my back.”
He nods once.
“You’re family now, and family is always there,” he says, rising and heading for the door.
That breaks me all over again.
Malcolm shifts closer, but this time, he doesn’t touch me right away. He just stands there, close enough that I feel his heat beside me.
His arms come around me slow, and careful, like he’s afraid I’ll shatter if he breathes too hard. I don’t fight it this time. I sink into his chest, fists twisting into his kutte. He doesn’t say a word, just holds me while I let go.
After a long minute, his chin dips toward the top of my head. “You stole my bike.”
A weak, breathless sound slips out of me… something between a laugh and a sigh.
“You scared the hell outta me,” he murmurs. “You ever do that again and I’m chaining your ass to the damn bed.”
I lift my face just enough to look at him. “I needed to face Herrera alone.”
His voice drops lower, rougher. “Coming here alone was a suicide mission, Lolo, and I’m not ready to lose you.”
That almost breaks me worse than everything else.
“I wasn’t thinking about living,” I admit quietly, pressing my forehead into his chest. “I was thinking about ending it.”
His arms lock tighter around me. “You don’t get to decide that alone anymore.”
Something in me finally gives. Not loud, not violent, just a quiet, aching crack.
“I miss them so much it hurts,” I mumble.
“I know, baby,” he says. “And it’s gonna hurt for a long time. But you’re not riding this road alone. Not ever again.”
Pressing my face back into his chest, I let him hold me, knowing my family is gone… but somehow, I found my way into a new one.
My family is avenged.
The men who destroyed my life are dead.
And for the first time…
I no longer have to be the strong one.