Chapter 46
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Cole came back a little while after Ashlynn fell asleep with her medication. I was able to wake her up to take it, and she’s been asleep ever since. It’s now one in the morning, and I’m getting restless.
Cole also informed me that Tristan was in and out of consciousness. Apparently, he looks like hell. Guess your face meeting the back windshield of your car and being dragged over glass will do that to you.
I gave him the same injuries Owen gave Ashlynn. Eye for an eye.
I’m not done with him yet.
A soft knock comes from the door, and I quietly rise from the couch to open it. Parker and Maverick stand on the other side.
“They’ve got eyes on this place while we’re gone?” Maverick asks.
I nod. “I called Jeremy and told him what we’re doing. He’s watching the entire penthouse until we get back.”
Parker brushes past me. She adjusts the pillow and blanket I left on the couch for her and lays down so that she can face Ashlynn.
“I’ll call you if anything happens,” she whispers, then covers herself up, tugging the blanket up to her chin. Maverick steps inside, and leans over the back of the couch to kiss his wife before we exit quietly.
I was going to let Tristan rot for a few days at the warehouse before I went back there and ended his life, but the longer I sit, the more the rage consumes me.
This ends tonight.
The Camaro comes to life beneath my hands as Maverick slides into the passenger seat. Tires squeal across the concrete of the valet garage as I pull away from Perdition. We haven’t even reached the highway when my phone vibrates in the cup holder.
I put it on speaker.
“What did you find?”
Paper rustles on the other end before Slater answers.
“So…first thing. The DNA you asked me to run on Owen.”
Maverick glances over.
“And?” I ask.
“It’s a match.” The words land flat in the car. “He is…or was…your half brother.”
I stare at the road, the yellow lines beneath the headlights blurring together.
“Noted.”
Slates exhales quietly.
“There’s something else.”
My grip tightens around the steering wheel, and I tip my head side to side.
What fucking else?
“What is it?”
Slater clears his throat.
“Karson…what do you know about Ashlynn’s real family?”
Silence fills the car. I don’t answer. On the other end of the line, Slater starts talking. Maverick’s head slowly turns toward me as the words pour through the speakers. My spine straightens and my jaw flexes. Once. Twice. The Camaro surges forward as I press harder on the gas.
“Karson?” Maverick says sharply.
I don’t respond. I just end the call.
We turn down a dirt road, and the warehouse lights come into view in the distance.
Tristan isn't just a problem. He’s the only person who might have answers.
Entering the warehouse, we move through the halls that still hold the faint scent of Owen’s blood.
I inhale deeply as it wraps around each one of my nerve endings, and fuels my already murderous mood.
We step into the same room. Nick and Elias sit in metal chairs.
Elias taps away on his phone, and Nick watches Tristan struggle with his bindings. Both look up as we enter the space.
“Where’s Cole?” Maverick asks.
“Said he had some things he needed to take care of,” Elias shrugs. “I can’t keep up with that one sometimes. He said he’d be back.”
My head tips to the side slightly as I watch Tristan. He continues his struggle for a moment before realization hits him, and he slowly looks up. His gaze bounces around the room, landing on Nick, then Elias, then Maverick before settling on me. He straightens and lifts his chin.
“Let me go. Right now,” he says confidently.
The laugh that I let out is chilling, a mixture of amusement and fury. He bristles in his seat briefly.
“That’s not going to happen. Look around, Tristan. Get comfortable. This will be your tomb.”
I grab the chair Elias was sitting in, and drag it to the center of the room. The chair legs scrape to a stop at Tristan’s feet. Spinning it around, I straddle it and lean forward slightly, resting my forearms across the back of it.
Up close, he looks worse than Cole described. One eye nearly swollen shut. Blood crusted along multiple cuts around his hairline. His lips are split where they met the windshield, and no doubt a broken nose.
He shifts in the chair, trying to regain some sense of control, but the ropes digging into his wrists make it difficult.
“You’re making a mistake,” he says.
I tilt my head. “Am I?”
His jaw ticks.
“You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”
Maverick lets out a quick chuckle behind me. “That’s pretty funny.”
Nick leans back in his chair, arms folded. “Go on, please,” he says. “We’re all enjoying this.”
Tristan’s gaze snaps back to me. “This doesn't involve you,” he snaps. “This is between me and her.”
My fingers tighten around the metal back of the chair.
“Her.” The word comes out slow. “You mean the woman you drugged, kidnapped and tried to drag across state lines?”
His lips curl into a smile.
“I didn't kidnap her.”
Silence falls over the room. Elias stops typing and pockets his phone. Nick straightens in his chair. Maverick’s weight shifts.
I lean forward a little more.
“You put a needle in her neck.”
Tristan shrugs. “She was coming with me either way.”
Something dark slides into my chest.
“Why.” It isn’t a question. It’s a demand.
Tristan studies me for a long moment, then he smiles. Suddenly, his arrogance makes sense.
“Because,” he says calmly. “She was promised to me.”
The room goes still. Nick’s brows pull together. Elias takes a step forward. Maverick mutters under his breath.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
But Tristan doesn’t look at them. His eyes stay locked onto mine.
“She always was.”
I don’t flinch at the statement, but I can feel the wrath slithering under my skin.
“Always?”
He nods.
“Explain,” I grit out.
Tristan squares his shoulders, the movement pulling a grunt out of him when the ropes tighten.
“My father and Jack had an understanding,” he says simply, as if he’s reporting the weather.
“What kind of understanding?” I ask.
Tristan smiles again. “The kind powerful men make when they’re planning legacies.”
Nick scoffs behind me. “Cut the bullshit.”
Tristan ignores him. “Melissa couldn't have children,” he continues. “Everyone knew it. But appearances matter in families like ours.”
I crack my neck. I’ve seen firsthand just how important those appearances are to Melissa and Jack.
“So they made arrangements.”
Elias folds his arms. “Arrangements for what?”
Tristan looks straight at me. “For her.”
Everyone glances at one another.
“Melissa promised my father that when the time came, the girl they would bring into their family would be mine.”
My jaw ticks. “You’re saying they promised you Ashlynn before she was even adopted.”
Tristan nods once. “Exactly.”
I stand from the chair and pace the room. I want to snap this fuckers neck, to feel the bones crack beneath my fingers. But I need more.
“How could she promise a child she didn’t even have yet?” Nick asks for me, taking my place on the chair in front of Tristan. Mav and Elias watch me pace.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Tristan’s eyes follow me as I pace before he looks back at Nick.
“She already knew who the child was.”
The room stills. Nick’s posture straightens in the chair.
“What the hell does that mean?” he asks.
“Jack had a business partner years ago,” he says. “A man who decided he didn't like the way Jack ran things.”
My pacing stops.
“So what?” Maverick says. “Business partners fall out all the time.”
Tristan’s smile widens just enough to show the blood on his teeth.
“This one didn't just fall out. He was going to expose Jack.”
The words hang in the air.
“Suddenly,” Tristan continues softly. “The man's wife dies in an accident.”
“What about the husband?” Elias asks.
Tristan shrugs.
“He survived. But was declared unstable, so he was institutionalized."
My chest tightens.
“You’re saying Jack Steele had him locked in a psych ward.” Nick’s voice drops.
Tristan nods slowly. “Convenient thing about money. You can make anything disappear.”
“And the kid?” I ask, my hands fisting at my sides.
“Eventually went into the system.” A beat of silence. “Melissa made sure she stayed right where she wanted her until she was ready.”
“Ashlynn,” I whisper.
My body trembles violently as the pieces begin snapping together.
“They paid off DHS to keep her in the system,” I growl. “She spent ten years bouncing around from home to home. Being abused and neglected.” My gaze lifts slowly back to Tristan. “Why?”
“The thing about my dear aunt is she needed to have a child, but she didn't want to raise one. So they kept her in homes that their foundation funded until she was old enough to be self-sufficient but still moldable.”
“They groomed you.”
“She’s been a puppet her whole life,” Nick mutters.
He stands abruptly, the chair clattering to the floor behind him. Nick drags a hand down his face, his eyes locking with Elias’.
I cross the room before I realize I’ve moved.
Tristan barely has time to register it before my fist connects with the side of his fucked-up face.
The crack of bone against knuckles echoes off the concrete walls as his chair tips sideways, and slams into the floor.
He groans as his arms are crushed under his weight, fresh blood spilling from his split lips.
Nick and Elias don’t move. Maverick doesn't stop me.
Good.
Because if any of them tried right now, I’d probably put them through a fucking wall.
I snatch Tristan by the front of his shirt and haul him upright. His head lolls to the side before he blinks up at me, dazed. My grip tightens in his collar.
All I see is Ashlynn. Ashlynn on the pavement. Ashlynn unconscious in that wheelchair. Ashlynn trembling in my arms at the rest stop. Ashlynn standing in the window with tears in her eyes as I walk away.
Ten years.
Ten fucking years she spent being passed around like she didn’t belong anywhere. Because of them. Because of people like him.
My jaw tightens. I was planning on killing him tonight. Slowly. Methodically. But not until I have every answer. I lean down until my face is inches from his. Until his labored, hot breaths land on my face.
“What happened to him?” I growl.
Tristan blinks, confusion flickering across his face.
“Who?”
My fist tightens in his shirt and I slam him back onto the concrete floor.
“Her father.”
The words scrape out of my throat like broken glass.
“What the fuck happened to him?”