“Trace the plate number. I want to know who the driver is.” While they do that, I move to my desk to secure my Suzuki Hayabusa key out of my top drawer. I don’t even care that it is below freezing outside. My bike is faster than any car I own, and it will stop pesky traffic from getting between Zariah and me. “Also, it’s time to bring Stepanov out of hiding. We’ve got answers to questions he should have had answered years ago, and he needs to hear them.”
“And Nesti?”
My teeth nearly crack from how tightly I hold my jaw. “Keep out feelers. He’ll surface soon.”
Matvei nods. “He won’t when I give him a brand new pair of concrete boots.”
Confident my crew has everything under control, I head to the garage my bike is stored in. My men will follow me, but if they don’t, I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.
With my blood still hot, I only throw on a leather jacket for protection before hooking my leg over my bike. Its engine purrs to life as quickly as Zariah does when my hands land on her. Muddy sludge dots my boots when I pull back on the throttle.
I race through the streets, my speed excessive. I visited Zariah’s family compound many times when I was a child, so I know the best route, but it doesn’t lessen my love of the throttle in the slightest. Nothing is on my mind right now but getting Zariah as far away from the deathtrap that’s nearly claimed her life twice already.
Dominique was killed on my watch. I refuse for the same thing to happen to Zariah.
Chapter 27
Zariah
My heart rate spikes when my bedroom door flies open for the second time tonight. I don’t know who I am expecting, but I’m reasonably sure it can’t shock me any more than I already am. My family home has been gutted. Not a single shred of the life it once held has been left behind. The family portraits that adorned the walls only hold mismatched paint colors. The floors are void of a single piece of furniture. Even my bedroom has been stripped bare.
I came here to cling to a piece of my life I once knew. Now I have nothing—not a single thing. Everything has been taken from me, and it was cruelly stripped by the man confronting me. I should be fighting to hold myself together, to not succumb to the horrifying blackness engulfing me. I do neither of those things. Instead, I fight with everything I have. I give as bad as I am getting.
With the cry of a wounded woman, I charge for the man responsible for my turmoil with my fists held out in front of me and my cheeks lined with tears. Asher dodges the fist I’m aiming at his face, but he accepts the one directed at his chest. It pummels into him with a thud, its repetitive wallop coming with a heap of tears and cruel words.
“You killed my brother—my baby brother.” I hit him over and over again. “I hate you, Asher Yury. I fucking hate you!” I can’t see anything through the tears blurring my vision, but I’m certain my words are hurting him more than my fists. He stiffens more with every horrible name I call him, but he does little to stop the onslaught.
“How could you do that to him? All he ever did was look up to you! And for what? To have you kill him like his life was worthless. You should have killed me. You should have taken my life instead of his. I’ll never forgive you for this. I’ll hate you until the day I die.”
What Vaughn and Dominique did was wrong. They had every right to fall in love, but they shouldn’t have kept it hidden like they did. But that doesn’t give Asher the right to kill them for it. They were young and fearless; they didn’t understand the repercussions of their actions. That’s why I crushed so hard on Asher when I was a child. I had no clue of the ramifications that could come from my feelings. I loved him for who he was, not the title he would have assured I’d keep for eternity. Lineage wasn’t important to me. Endless love was.
Now he’s ruined it. He’s taken away everything I’ve ever known and destroyed it.
Within minutes, my arms are burning with exhaustion. I’ve belted into Asher with everything I have, yet it’s still not half the punishment Vaughn suffered.
A sob tears at my throat as I drop my forehead to rest on Asher’s chest. I’d rather choose anything but him for comfort, but considering he’s the only stable, solid thing in sight, I have no choice. I’m seconds from collapsing. My tiredness of this life and everything that comes from it is visible all over my face.
Holding me close to his body, Asher moves us to the other side of the room. After sitting on the floor, he braces his back where my headboard once sat before cradling my head into his heaving chest. I should be ashamed I’m letting the man responsible for my turmoil comfort me, but I’m not. The last two weeks have been such a blur of emotions, I’m having trouble separating fact from fiction. I truly feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience.
The tears streaming down my face intensify when Asher runs his hand across my wet cheeks. “Shh, Little Mouse. You’re okay. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
His pledge would have snatched the last bit of sanity I’m clutching if it didn’t arrive at the same time his cell phone is thrust into my line of sight. It has a grainy video playing. Although the image is pixelated, I recognize the man lying on a bed in the middle of the frame. It’s Vaughn. His face and body are badly battered, but the rise and fall of his chest can’t be mistaken.
Just in case I’m not seeing things clearly, Asher demands, “Wake him.”
I don’t realize it’s a live feed until Wyatt moves into the frame. He nudges Vaughn. Not enough to hurt him, but enough his eyes pop open a mere second before his hand darts out to seize Wyatt’s wrist. His firm grip has the men standing in the shadows paying careful attention to him, but it doesn’t spark a reaction from Wyatt. He’s too laidback to let a little anger set him off. His personality is at the opposite end of the spectrum of his brother’s. I never saw him act out in violence when we were younger. He likes stirring the pot too much to let anger work its way into his system.
With my mind still hazy, I remove Asher’s phone from his hand. “Vaughn?” My voice is hoarse from the amount of screaming I did.
I can tell the exact moment my mouse-like squeak reaches Vaughn’s ears. He relinquishes Wyatt’s wrist from his hold, then scoots up the mattress. I wipe away the tears sitting high on my cheeks when he accepts the mobile device from the person wielding it. He doesn’t need more worry added to his plate.
“Where are you?” His nearly swollen-shut eyes dart around the screen like the pale pink wall Asher’s back is braced against will give him more clues than asking me directly.
“I’m home. I’ve come home.”
“Home. . .” I don’t hear anything else Vaughn says when Asher’s deep timbre overpowers his frail tone. “Tell her the truth.”
My eyes dart between Asher and his phone when Vaughn’s eyes widen from his request. Vaughn looks truly scared from Asher’s demand, more than he did when he was seconds from death.
