Chapter Twenty-Six
Vik
Iwake up on the side of the road.
A crowd has gathered around me, their voices blending together.
Is he dead?
Holy shit, did you see that?
My body feels broken. Not in the literal sense. Yes, everything aches. My joints are stiff, my ribs scream in protest, but I can still move.
That’s enough.
As soon as I sit up, someone places a hand on my shoulder. Instinct takes over. My fingers wrap around his hand before my brain catches up. I’m a heartbeat away from snapping his fingers before I stop myself.
“You should take it easy, pal.” A thick Texan accent cuts through the haze.
“Can’t.” I turn my hand in his, silently asking him to help me up.
He does.
“Can I at least take the mask off? Help you breathe a little better?” He pats my shoulder gently, already looking apologetic for the pain it might cause.
I sigh. My hand slides to my belt, wrapping around the grip of my Colt. I don’t often feel guilty. Today, I’ll make an exception. I’m about to be very cruel to some very kind people.
“No.” I draw my gun, pointing it loosely in his direction.
The crowd gasps. Most of them scatter.
“But I need your keys.” Fear roots him to the spot. Then, after a moment, he slowly reaches into his pocket. I watch every movement. Ready for him to draw a weapon instead.
He doesn’t. He pulls out his keys.
“The... Br... Bronco,” he stammers, pointing towards his SUV.
I nod. “I’ll send it back when I’m finished.”
Maybe with some money in the trunk.
I keep one eye on the rear-view mirror as I drive. At first, I’m watching for them. Later... I’m watching for the police. No one follows and I make it back to the neighborhood a short while later.
I leave the Bronco a few houses away and limp the rest of the distance. Every step hurts. Climbing the fence sends pain shooting through my ribs.
I ignore it.
Hell, if it weren’t for Hannah, I’d probably collapse into the flower bed and lie there staring at the stars. I just hope she got out. That she is already halfway to our parents’ house.
Scared... but safe. Because in the end... she’s all that matters.
Halfway between the gate and the house, movement in the dining room window catches my eye.
Three figures. For one glorious second, relief floods through me. Then I realize one of them is Hannah. Tied to a chair. Another few steps reveal one of the twins pouring something from a red container across the floor.
Gasoline.
My jaw clenches. Every instinct tells me to raise my gun and fire through the glass. End this. Now.
But not if it puts Hannah in danger. Revenge stopped being my priority somewhere along the way. Keeping her safe. Keeping her happy. That’s all that matters now.
She came to me looking for help. Instead… she changed my life. Through all the chaos she brought with her, she taught me what happiness felt like. What it meant to love someone.
Without her... I have nothing left.
I edge closer.
Hannah isn’t hurt. Not yet. But with gasoline soaking the furniture and countertops, that could change in an instant.
Only then do I really look at the man speaking to her. My blood turns to ice. I know that face. The way he moves. That smug smile.
Time has aged him. But I’d know him anywhere. He’s the man who murdered my mother.
There’s no time to think. I press my back against the wall and move through the flower bed toward the side of the house. Two of them remain with Hannah. Which means the third has to be somewhere else.
Perfect. They’ve split themselves up without even realising it.
I circle around the back of the house and peek around the corner. Nothing. But the sliding glass door to my bedroom has been smashed. Good. Easy access.
Keeping low, I slip closer. One careful glance inside... And for the first time tonight... Luck is on my side.
One of the twins is standing in my bedroom, going through my closet.
I slip silently into the room, sliding my pistol back into my belt.
“Fucking safe is impossible to break,” he mutters to himself, oblivious to my approach. “No way I’m getting it done in a couple of minutes.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that.” I hook an arm around his throat and cinch the choke tight. My years of training will make it damn hard for this old fool to break free. He coughs and fights to no avail, but eventually goes limp in my arms.
“You and me are going to have a little chat,” I say. “Then I’m going to get my woman, and get out of here.”
And so begins my assault on my own home. Not to silence the nightmares that have plagued me for decades, but to save the woman I love.