24. Zaria #2
Greer zips his jeans and immediately favors his ribs, the pain catching up now that adrenaline and lust are fading. I should feel guilty for not being gentler, for letting him fuck me that hard when he's got broken bones.
But his smile tells me he has zero regrets.
We clean up in Vaughn's bathroom because we sure as hell can't walk out looking like we just fucked against a crime scene. Which is exactly what we did, but discretion matters.
I wet a towel and wipe blood off my neck, my hands, anywhere visible. The tactical pants hid most of the damage but my shirt has suspicious stains. Greer strips his ruined henley and borrows one of Vaughn's from the closet—a plain black tee that's slightly too big but serviceable.
"Feels wrong wearing a dead traitor's clothes," he mutters, pulling it over his head carefully to avoid jarring his ribs.
"You'll live." I help him adjust the fabric around the splinted fingers. "Besides, he doesn't need it anymore."
His mouth quirks despite everything. "Fair point."
I run wet fingers through my hair, smoothing it back from my face. The braids stayed mostly intact but a few escaped during the fight. And the sex. Definitely the sex.
Greer catches my eye in the mirror. "You look like you just killed someone and then got fucked."
"Because I did." I turn to face him, pressing close enough that he has to look down at me. "We both did. And I'm not sorry about any of it."
"Good." His good hand cups my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone. "Because I'm not either."
The moment stretches between us—intimate despite the violence, soft despite the darkness. Then my phone buzzes with another text from Cain and reality intrudes.
Cain: Clock's ticking. Chisom won't wait forever.
Right. We still have a war to end.
"Let's go." I grab Greer's hand, careful to avoid the damaged fingers. "Time to finish this."
We leave the bathroom and head for the door, stepping around Vaughn's body like it's furniture. His blood has soaked into the cheap carpet, spreading in a dark stain that'll never come out. Not that anyone's going to try—this apartment is done, contaminated by betrayal and death.
Cain's waiting in the hallway with two of our guys, Dante and Lex. All three look deliberately away from us, which confirms they absolutely heard what we were doing. Heat doesn't touch my face because I refuse to be embarrassed about claiming what's mine.
"Body disposal?" I ask, all business.
"Already called it in." Cain's eyes flick between me and Greer, assessing damage. "Hayes's crew is sending a cleanup team. Thirty minutes."
"Good." I gesture to Vaughn's apartment. "One body in there. And the other?"
"Handled." Cain falls into step beside us as we head for the stairs. "Marco's people took care of it. Both traitors will disappear by morning."
Greer's quiet as we descend, probably processing that we're talking about disposing of human bodies with the same tone normal people use to discuss taking out trash. But he doesn't flinch, doesn't question it. He just follows me down, his presence solid and sure at my back.
The night air hits like a slap after the stale heat of the apartment building. My Challenger's parked at the curb next to Cain's bike, both engines still warm from the drive over.
"Where's Ezinne?" I ask as we reach the vehicles.
Cain pulls out his phone, checking something. "Still in the basement where we left her. Dante and Lex are posted outside to make sure she doesn't get creative."
"She's not going anywhere with those injuries." Greer's voice is flat, clinical. "Broken knee, dislocated shoulder, probably internal bleeding. She can barely move."
The memory of what we did to her flashes through my mind—the systematic way Greer and I took her apart, making her pay for every minute she hurt him. The violence was necessary, strategic even, but it was also deeply personal. She tortured my man, so I tortured her back.
Fair trade.
"We need to bring her to the negotiation," I say, already planning the logistics. "She's our only leverage with Chisom."
Cain raises an eyebrow. "You want to drag a half-dead woman across Jersey to negotiate peace?"
"I want to show Chisom exactly what happens when someone touches what's mine." My voice comes out cold, final. "He took Greer to use as bait. Now I have his sister. He gets her back when he agrees to our terms."
Understanding flashes across Cain's face, followed by something that might be approval. "Eye for an eye."
"Exactly." I unlock the Challenger, the lights flashing. "You drive your bike. Greer and I will take my car. We'll meet you at the facility to pick up Ezinne, then convoy to the Newark warehouse where Chisom's hiding."
"He might not be alone," Greer points out, leaning against the car. The movement is casual but I can see the pain behind it—his ribs are screaming, the adrenaline wearing off. "Ezinne said most of his crew evacuated after we hit the Pennsylvania warehouse, but he'll have personal security."
"Good." I smile, all teeth. "Let them watch while their boss bends the knee."
Cain swings onto his motorcycle, the engine rumbling to life. "This better work, Z. If negotiations go south, we're looking at full-scale war."
"It'll work." I meet his eyes, letting him see the certainty there. "Chisom's smart enough to know when he's beat. We took his product, killed his soldiers, and captured his sister. He's out of moves."
"And if he's not smart enough?"
"Then we kill him and take everything." Simple. Clean. The way business should be.
Cain revs the engine once, then pulls away from the curb. His taillights disappear around the corner as he heads for the facility where we left Ezinne. I watch until he's gone, then turn to find Greer studying me with those green-gold eyes that see too much.
"What?"
"You're different when you're in boss mode." He pushes off the car, moving into my space. "Colder. More dangerous."
"Problem with that?"
"No." His good hand slides to my hip, pulling me closer. "It's hot as hell, actually. Watching you command people, make decisions that'll reshape territory lines—you're terrifying and I love it."
The confession does something to my chest, makes it tighten in a way that has nothing to do with violence or sex. This man sees me at my darkest—covered in blood, torturing enemies, fucking him in front of corpses—and his response is love.
How did I get this lucky?
"Get in the car before you collapse." I push him toward the passenger side. "You're running on spite and adrenaline, and both are going to crash soon."
"I'm fine."
"Greer." I wait until he looks at me. "You have broken fingers, cracked ribs, and you just fucked me against a wall. You're not fine, you're stubborn. Now get in the damn car."
His smile is soft despite the split in his lip. "Yes ma'am."
We slide into the Challenger, the leather seats familiar and grounding after the chaos of the last hour. I start the engine and the V8 rumbles to life, vibrating through the chassis. Greer settles carefully, trying to find a position that doesn't aggravate his ribs.
"Here." I adjust his seat back, giving him more room to recline. "Better?"
"Yeah." He closes his eyes briefly. "Thanks."
I pull away from the curb, heading toward the facility where Ezinne's being held. The streets are empty at this hour—too late for normal people, too early for morning commuters. Just us and the night and the violence we're carrying.
"Hayes is going to kill me," Greer says after a few minutes of silence.
"For getting kidnapped or for torturing someone?"
"Both." He laughs, then winces when it jars his ribs. "Definitely both. He wanted me to have self-defense skills, not become an enforcer."
"You're not an enforcer." I take a corner faster than necessary, letting the Challenger's suspension handle it. "You're my strategist who happens to be good with violence."
"Pretty sure that's the same thing."
"It's not." I glance at him, taking in the bruises blooming across his face, the way he's holding his splinted fingers carefully. "Enforcers follow orders. You think for yourself, see patterns, make decisions that change outcomes. That's worth more than muscle."
He's quiet for a moment, processing. Then: "Is that why you kept me around? For my brain?"
"Initially." Honesty feels important right now, with everything that's happened. "You impressed me with the Rasheed situation—how you tracked him, handled it, delivered everything I needed without being asked. That's when I realized you weren't just playing at this."
"And now?"
"Now I keep you around because you're mine." Simple truth. "Because you choose this, choose me, choose the darkness without flinching. Because watching you break someone who hurt you made me want to fuck you immediately. Because you're exactly what I didn't know I needed."
His hand finds my thigh, squeezing gently. "I've finally grown on you."
My laugh comes out a little choked. "I guess so. That's why we're doing this—ending the war, securing peace, making sure nobody touches you again."
"And here I thought it was about territory."
"It's about everything." I take another corner, the facility coming into view ahead. "Territory, respect, power, protection. But mostly it's about making sure Chisom understands that taking you was the worst mistake he could've made."
Cain's already there, his bike parked near the entrance. He's leaning against it with his arms crossed, waiting. I pull up beside him and kill the engine.
"She's still breathing," he says as we get out. "Barely. Might not survive the drive to Newark."
"She'll survive." I head for the door, Greer and Cain following. "She's tough—that's the only reason she's still alive after what we did."
The facility is one of our smaller warehouses, mostly used for storage and the occasional interrogation. We descend concrete stairs to the basement level where Ezinne's being held. Dante and Lex are posted outside like Cain said, both straightening when they see us approach.