Chapter 5
Seth
F or the last hour, the group of us sat in Rhys’s war room as he and Hannah video chatted with us from her half-brother, Waylon’s home.
I personally didn’t understand why they let him live when everyone else in that house died at our hands.
He was responsible for Hannah being kidnapped, and I felt, deep down, he was more involved than he admitted.
Devlin and James were asking questions while the rest of us listened, only interjecting a question or simple statement when necessary.
Waylon seemed terrified as he looked through the screen at the group of us, and my leg jumped under the table listening to him speak.
Booker and Caldwell both glanced at me, so I pushed myself to a straighter sitting position, trying to stop the nervous habit.
I wanted to go check on Regan and see how she was doing, but leaving this meeting would draw attention to us that I wasn’t ready to deal with.
I wasn’t afraid of her brother, cousin, his brother, or any of the Death Hounds who seemed to always be around.
She’s a grown woman who could tell me she’s not interested, if that’s what she felt.
Until she said no, I wasn’t interested in their opinions.
“Let me make sure I’m understanding you correctly,” Devlin said with a sigh, and I could tell he was frustrated. “You were around thirteen or fourteen when Sergey was killed?” Waylon nodded. “And during that time, Kelly kept you and Sergey Junior away from the business?”
He looked to the side, and I could hear Hannah saying something to him before he looked back at us.
“She made sure Sergey Junior was involved in everything, but she wanted me out of the way and quiet. So, I stayed in my room and used the back stairs when I came and went. I swear, I don’t know who this mouse person is and I don’t remember seeing anyone that didn’t belong.
” He shrugged then added, “It’s not like anyone in the house paid any attention to me, and I didn’t want anything to do with that filth, so I kept my head down and my eyes averted. ”
“That’s convenient, isn’t it?” I muttered, causing James to turn his head and pierce me with his cold eyes.
“And Kelly never said anything about who else was involved in the upcoming initiation for the Syndicate?” Devlin inquired.
“Besides Sergey Junior, the one you . . . and the one who didn’t have an offering, that’s all I know.”
“What the fuck are we even doing? He doesn’t know anything, so this is pointless,” I blurted out as I stood from my seat, pushing the chair backward.
“If you can’t be constructive, then leave,” James returned, and I snapped my head at him.
Little preppy-looking asshole may have had a large body count, but it’s small in comparison to mine.
I made my first kill at fifteen, when my old man decided to use my younger sister as a punching bag, and I beat his head in with a baseball bat.
The courts let me off with self-defense since my sister had a broken nose, black eye, a chuck of hair missing from the side of her head, and bloody welts on her back, ass, and legs from his leather belt.
Rolling my eyes at him, I announced, “I’ll be back when you have something for us to go on.”
Lucian had been silent for most of the meeting, and he gave me a chin lift, letting me know we were on the same page.
He was as frustrated about this as I was, but he had more skin in the game than I did.
Booker gave me a confused look, and Caldwell chuckled under his breath as Devlin and James turned back to the large screen on the wall and began to question Waylon some more.
Walking out of the war room, I closed the door behind me, and moved down the hallway.
I wanted to see Regan and find out what had soured her mood earlier.
And I was tired of circle-jerking each other with the same information.
We were spinning in circles, and the longer I had to look at Waylon’s face, the madder I got.
Lucian had known me for years, and he knew I wasn’t the type to rehash old news.
The further from the war room I got, the more I let my mind move away from all the noise and focus on Regan.
I’d observed her for months, and the more I saw, the more I wanted to see.
She was kind, beautiful, smart, not only book wise, but street wise as well.
She was skilled with a gun, cooked like a chef, and had a darkness behind her eyes that called to a part of me I never knew existed.
There was something about her, and the silence she carried, that made me seek her out, against Booker and Caldwell’s advice.
I glanced in the kitchen as I passed by and began moving to the living quarter side of Rhys’s ginormous house.
The nursery they set up for New Years still had a couple of the kids inside, enjoying the toys and special attention.
I saw Devlin’s son, DJ working on a puzzle at one of the tables and almost like he knew I was watching him, he turned his little head and gave me the same cold stare his father did.
It was eerie how much he favored his father, but the little booger was a sweet kid.
He had to have gotten that from his mother.
Moving past the nursery, I continued down the hallway and looked inside the enclosed patio, hoping to see her but finding it empty.
I wasn’t even sure she was in the house, but something compelled me to keep walking down the hallway.
The closer I got to the end, the more the noise became sound, and when I stepped up to the closed door, I could hear the music playing through the door accompanied by a repetitive thud.
The lyrics to Shinedown’s ‘Monster’ were clear as day, and on impulse, I placed my hand onto the closed door, wishing I could give her some of my strength. The song told of monsters being real and how they laughed and silently abused mentally, and I swore I could feel her sadness through the door.
Footsteps behind me had me dropping my hand and spinning to see who was approaching.
James walked closer, and his head was tilted slightly to the side as he stopped in front of me.
I’d seen countless people do that—it meant he was trying to get a read on me.
But there was no read to get. What you saw was what you got with me.
He glanced at the door and spoke quietly. “She carries more pain inside her than anyone I’ve ever known. And that’s saying a lot with some of the people in our lives.”
I looked over my shoulder and back to him as I motioned for him to step away from the door.
The last thing I wanted was for Regan to think we’re speaking about her, conspiring against her, or telling secrets about her.
James followed me about ten feet down the hallway then we turned so we were facing each other.
“Has she ever told you what she went through?” I asked, and James shook his head.
“It was almost a year after we rescued her before she spoke a single word, and she’s never uttered anything about what she experienced. Not to me. Not to her therapist. Not to anyone.”
“Where did you find her?” I inquired, hating that I was having to pull information out of him.
“She was in an old house in West Memphis, Arkansas, just over the state line. Our facial recognition software caught a glimpse of her from a random cell phone, and we moved in within three hours. That place . . .” He shook his head, not finishing his statement, but from what I’d been told about her condition, I could imagine the hellhole they’d found her in.
“And she was there the entire time she was gone?” I asked, and his shrug pissed me off. “How can you not know?”
He looked to the door as the song changed to something equally as emotional before he answered, lowering his voice even more.
“Regan refused to say anything, and when I’ve tried to push, the pain and humiliation I saw in her eyes made me back off.
She was starving, covered in old and new wounds, and . . .”
“And?” I pushed, needing him to stop gatekeeping what he knew.
“And there was clear evidence of sexual assault. Even though she’s never said it happened, we could tell by . . . evidence on her legs.”
My eyes narrowed and I felt my heart rate increase as I let his words sink in. I knew she was in bad shape when they found her, but hearing even generalized details about what she survived was killing me. No one deserved that, especially not someone as sweet and loving as Regan.
My fists clenched and unclenched as James took a step back from me.
He swung his gaze to the door before he simply said, “The fact she didn’t smack you, or even run away after that kiss last night, tells me you’re someone she feels comfortable around.
” He started to walk away as he said, “Don’t make me kill you for hurting her. ”
Just as I went to roll my eyes, he said, “Seth?”
I looked at him and raised my eyebrows, waiting for his next threat.
What he said hit me in the chest. “If you truly have feelings for her, go slow and be gentle. But if this is just a ploy of some kind, you’ll break what’s left inside her, and I fear we’ll never get her back. So, please, be gentle with her.”
He left me standing in the hallway, listening to another song about pain and darkness play from the room she was in. And at that moment, I vowed to find out what Regan had lived through and kill every single motherfucker who was even remotely involved in her pain.
Filled with determination, I walked to the closed door and turned the knob. Pushing it open slightly, I saw she had her back turned as she punched and kicked a punch-dummy. She was covered in sweat, and her breathing was accelerated as she continued to rein down strikes on the androgynous figure.
When the song came to an end, I clapped at her workout, impressed by her stamina. I could tell I’d startled her when she turned and took a stance that said she wasn’t just working out but fighting old demons.
Without a doubt, I was going to heal this beautiful woman, and if the universe didn’t punish me for the number of bodies I’d buried, then I was going to make her mine. But something told me she wasn’t going to give in easily.