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I reached into my pocket, but Ry’s words cut through me. “Let’s get ready.”
My gaze cut to Ezra’s, and I nodded. He and I were going to finish this the proper way, the one in which Zali and Ryder wouldn’t have to live with the consequences of their actions today.
Fourteen
Zali
Ididn’t know why, but Ezra insisted on driving to Benedict’s house. Tristan and Flynn were coming in via the beach, and we were going straight through the front door. I watched as Ry scaled the fence and Ezra pulled onto the curb, waiting for him to do his magic.
A moment later, the gate began its slow roll open. Ezra pulled in, headlights off, and paused long enough for Ry to climb back in. The grounds were quiet, no movement in sight. The only lights on were those in the gardens, spotlights pointing up at the trees illuminating the branches with a soft glow.
We were all wearing the same mics and earpieces we’d had on in Monaco, and I heard Tristan’s murmured, “We’re in the grounds. Heading toward the house now.”
“Copy,” Ezra responded. “We’re through the gate and coming up on the front door.”
Apparently, most locks were easy to break—true of both digital and physical ones I supposed. But these houses made me pause. Surely they’d have more security than what we’d seen. Ry had spotted a couple of cameras at the entrances, but that was it so far.
Ezra parked the Tesla in a darkened corner where the brake lights wouldn’t alert anyone home of our arrival. We got out, closing the doors with a quiet snick. He’d disabled the automatic lock of the doors, and the key—a nondescript black card—was in the cup holder. Any one of us could jump in and drive if we needed to make a fast escape.
We crept around to the front door, and I held my breath, waiting to see if sensors activated the lights. But when it stayed dark, my breath left me in a relieved rush.
Ezra pulled two thin tools out of his back pocket and dropped to his knees. Ry shone a light on the door as Ezra jiggled the tools in the lock. Barely thirty seconds later, just like schools of fish parting for shark on the hunt, the lock clicked. Ezra eased the door open a crack.
He hadn’t been kidding around—locks really were for keeping the honest thieves out.
Ry fed a camera attached to a screen by a foot of posable wire through the gap in the door. It was used for checking whether a drain was blocked, but it was perfect for what we needed—small and intended for dark spaces. He panned the width of the room, making sure the coast was clear. There was nobody in the entrance, but we couldn’t see into the room where light from a floor lamp blinded the night vision camera.
“We’re in,” I whispered, creeping after Ezra and Ry.
“All the doors around the back are locked. There’s someone in the living room, so we couldn’t check them. Come and let us in. We’re at the laundry, eastern side of the house,” Flynn answered.
Ezra gestured to Ry with a tilt of his chin, and I could see the indecision in his gaze. He wanted to be with us when we stormed the room.
“We go together,” Ezra whispered.
Ry nodded and went in search of Tristan and Flynn. But I didn’t want to wait. That fucker was right there, so close that I could just feel my hands closing around his throat as I choked the life out of him. I wanted him to bleed. To suffer in pain the same way Mum and Asher had. I wanted to see the fear in his eyes when he realized he was breathing his last breath.
I was moving before I knew it. But I was yanked to a halt before I could even process what I was doing. Ezra had wrapped his hand around my wrist, holding me in place.
Struggling, I tried to yank my hand free, but he gripped me tighter. I gritted my teeth and glared at him, but his only response was to shake his head.
“Together,” he whisper-hissed.
An eternity later, Ry reappeared, Tristan and Flynn on his tail. Tristan and Ezra gazed at each other and nodded, a silent conversation passing between them before Tris turned to Flynn and did the same. Some of the tension dropped out of Ezra’s shoulders, and alarm bells rang in my head. Something was off. What did they know?
The television in the living room was on, but the volume was muted. Soft classical music played through the overhead speakers instead. The warm light from the lamp created an intimate space, leaving the room in shadows except for the bubble of peacefulness that the fucker who murdered my family was enjoying.
I took in the moment, letting my anger boil in my veins. The need to avenge my mum and brother built until I was shaking, the pressure mounting until I was set to explode. Was my brother scared in his last moments? Did he see the light of the surface get further away as the yacht disappeared into the depths of the Pacific? Or was he already unconscious? I’d never prayed before, but I did then. If I could wish for anything, it was that they died not knowing the horror befalling them.
The soles of our shoes were silent on the marble floors as we crept forward and scanned the area. We’d gone in as prepared as we could on short notice—but it wasn’t anywhere near enough. But neither Ry nor I were willing to scout the property for days, waiting to find out who lived there. We couldn’t risk Benedict becoming aware of our presence, and we didn’t want Martha to send us packing for creeping out the neighbours either. So we were moving fast. Getting in and out as quickly as we could. This was supposed to be reconnaissance to try to find out if anyone was home, and if they were, who was there.
The first question had been answered in the affirmative.
Now I just needed the answer to the second.
Ezra had insisted on no weapons. It was fucking ridiculous if you asked me—if he’d bought his gun, we could have walked straight in there and executed the fucker without a moment’s hesitation.
Ezra wouldn’t be swayed.
