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“She’s a waitress, Trey.”
This line of pushback from Nash was confusing since he’d always been the type to help people advance in the Underground, not hold them back.
“No. She was working her way up the ranks on a crew before you moved her to be a waitress. Had that incident not happened, she’d probably be standing in this room right now alongside the rest of security.”
Nash’s jaw squared.
Oz angled his head, looked up at Nash, and scowled. “Is there a problem?”
Nash cleared his throat. “No, sir.”
Trey watched Nash walk across the room and down the stairs.
“You take Noelle.” Oz said.
“Now that we got all the bullshit squared away.” Rogue stood. “Can we fucking get on with this?”
Trey followed Rogue’s lead past the security and down the stairs. The house was old and didn’t have access to the cellar from the interior. They had to go out the back door and around the side of the house. Rogue pulled open the metal doors and waved Trey to go first.
It was time for some long-awaited revenge.
For Dahlia.
Trey drew in a breath and walked down the steps.
Ben Crosby.
His head hung low, bloody and battered. This was just the beginning. Trey grasped a handful of hair, pulling his head back. “Years later, and you still can’t keep your shit together? Your ass should be rotting in jail.”
“I did my time.”
Trey tightened his grip. “But she’s still doing hers. Lives every day without her father because of you. You took him from her. Your time isn’t over.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Are you?” Trey tightened his grip. “What’s her name?”
He blinked, scanning his gaze over the room. “What?”
“His daughter. What’s her name?”
He shook his head, his breath laboring. “I-I don’t…”
“You don’t know. Not hers, or his wife’s, his mother’s, sister’s, or brother’s. You don’t know any of them. But I bet you know yours. The same fucking people who were begging for your salvation at trial sat across from the family you fucking destroyed.”
“N-no, no, I’m different. I’m not the same person I was.”
Even if he had been a changed man. It didn’t change the past. Not for Dahlia. Or her father.
Trey narrowed his gaze. “Neither is she. You stole who she was supposed to be. You took that from her. Now, I’m gonna take that from you.”
Trey couldn’t bring Dahlia’s father back, but he could find retribution on his behalf. He may not want it, but Trey needed it. Even if Dahlia never knew about it, he’d seek revenge. This man didn’t just take a life. He altered futures. He shifted the realm of what should have been. Even if it meant Dahlia never crossing his path, this man took her future. He changed her. He created the empty hole in her heart. Trey would spend the rest of his life trying to make it whole, but he would never succeed. He couldn’t. That space was reserved solely for her dad.
“I have kids.” It was a desperate plea and dishonorable at that. He’d been out four years and hadn’t made any effort to see his children. He was using them merely as leverage.
Trey leaned closer. “So did the man you killed.”
“Please.” He wept, dropping his head to the floor. Some people might view his pain as empathy for his children. Trey knew better. He’d seen a lifetime of selfishness and faux heroes. This was one of them. But he wasn’t above one last-ditch effort. A Hail Mary of sorts. Trey could be fair. He could acknowledge redemption. But it had to be honest and pure. It had to be real.
