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"Yeah," I replied, glancing back at the groaning man. "I'm alone. Going to the Den."
"The Den" was what we called our safe house–an old warehouse reinvented into a fortress of sorts. Its dreary exterior masked the haven within, complete with stocked weapons, medical supplies, and a holding cell for when things got really dirty. We rarely used it, much preferring to use our building in Brickell. But the problem with that was that Sebastian was there, and Bash had made it clear that he wanted to avoid Sebastian seeing any criminal activities if possible.
And, well, it wasn’t really ours.
It had been Jez’s after Pedro died. I hadn’t gone back in years. And I had never been the one driving the van.
"Alright. Be careful. It'll be Skylar and Zane; there's an appointment Justice and I can't get out of. I'll tell them to wait for you there," Bash warned, his voice carrying the weight of the world.
"Understood," I gritted out, hanging up and tossing the phone onto the passenger seat.
The grumbling man in the back was starting to flail about, his murmurs growing into feeble attempts at protest. While a part of me was pleased that he was suffering, another part of me was seething with uncontrollable rage. He was just a pawn in this messy game, a symbol of the enemy that had been chipping away at us for way too long.
The road ahead stretched out like a path to purgatory, the heat mirroring the flames I felt licking at the edges of my sanity. This man in the back, he was the key to understanding who had turned my life into a living hell. Each moment of peace with Justice felt like it was bought with blood–and I was running out of currency.
I checked the rearview mirror again and caught his eyes open this time, a lucid terror reflected in them that matched my own smoldering anger. "You'll talk," I whispered to myself more than to him, feeling a grim satisfaction at the slightest nod he gave, an involuntary submission to his situation.
Fuck this guy.
I was done being a punching bag for these people.
I was back.
And I was angry.
Angrier than I had ever been in my entire life.
Chapter Thirteen: Justice
Bash looked pale when he hung up the phone with Hassan. I was getting ready to go out, and we were in our apartment, Bash sitting on the edge of the bed as he tied the laces of his boots and I pinned my hair up in a high ponytail.
Sebastian was with the nanny at story time, so that was one less thing to worry about, but our lives meant that the other shoe could drop at any minute.
"Everything okay?" I asked Bash as I stared at my reflection on the mirror above our wardrobe.
Bash shook his head, his gaze far away. "Hassan's on his way to the Den. He's picked up a...guest."
I furrowed my brows, tossing aside a few hair pins onto the vanity table. "Guest? You mean like, a De Luca?"
Bash nodded solemnly. "Seems like it."
The room suddenly felt tighter, air thinner. I could feel my heart pumping in my chest, adrenaline rushing through my veins just at the thought of another De Luca entering our territory. "Is he okay? I worry about him."
"He sounded okay," Bash replied, though his knitted brow suggested he shared my concern. I knew too well the undertone of pain Hassan tried to hide from us in his voice. "Zane and Skylar are going to be waiting for him at the Den."
"Good," I muttered, relief washing over me for a moment. At least he wouldn't be alone with the enemy.
Bash moved behind me, his large hands finding my shoulders as he began to massage them gently. His touch was soothing, calming the storm within me. For a moment, I closed my eyes, placing my hand over one of his.
"We could use some good news," Bash murmured into my ear. His warm breath tickled my skin, sending chills down my spine despite the worry that gnawed at me.
"Mmm," I murmured in agreement, turning to face him. His green eyes had that haunted look about them again and it tore at my heart to see it there. He kissed behind my ear and I let out a shuddering breath, my forehead resting against his broad chest. I found solace in his familiar scent–the unique combination of leather, his cologne and something purely Bash. It was grounding and I let it wash over me, soothe the frayed edges of my worry.
"Hassan's a fighter," Bash murmured, pulling back to look into my eyes. "He's got us, he's got you, Justice."
"So he doesn't need you there?"
Bash's lips lingered on my skin as he slowly moved to my shoulder. "No, darlin'. This is where I'm supposed to be."
