44
James
My office is destroyed.
I stare at Curly, Starkey, and the twins as they watch me pace back and forth. They’re smart enough to know there’s nothing they can say that will calm the rage wreaking havoc on my insides. I called Curly in specifically because I know him and Moira are close.
Moira.
Unbelievable.
Turning, I point at Curly, my finger shaking. “Did you know?”
His nostrils flare, his fingers popping as he puts his fist in his other hand. “Hell no, Hook. I would never let that bitch get away with this.”
Nodding, I rest my palms on the edge of the desk, my grip so tight my knuckles leach of color. “Bring her to me.”
“I don’t know if—”
My arm sweeps across the desk, everything crashing to the floor, wires ripping from their sockets and pens rolling across the wood. “Bring her to me. Now.”
Curly nods, pulling out his phone and walking away. But he needn’t go anywhere, because as he opens the door, Moira stands on the other side. “Hi, boys.”
My head snaps up, untapped fury ripping through my muscles and bleeding from my bones. “Moira,” I purr. “How lovely of you to make an appearance.” I walk around the desk, my fingers gripping the handle of my knife so tight it bruises.
She makes her way inside, meeting me halfway, and smirks. I brush her hair off the side of her neck, the back of my hand resting against her cheek. “Tell me, sweetheart, did you think you would get away with it? Or do you simply wish for death?”
She looks me straight in the eye and smiles. “I still think I’m getting away with it. James.”
The back of my hand connects with her cheek in a sharp crack, her body flinging onto the floor. My nostrils flare as I step over to her, the heel of my shoe digging into her back. I lean into my body weight, reveling in the way she whimpers beneath me. My eyes snag on that disgusting crocodile tattoo gracing the back of her neck as a memory flashes in my mind.
“Sorry. New tattoo, it’s still kind of sore.”
I shake my head, chuckling at my own stupidity. Reaching down, I flip her over, pinning her down with my forearm on her chest. “Ah, such memories of you beneath me like the filthy whore you’ve always been.”
Her hands smack the floor, and she lets out a scratchy scream. “Fuck you, Hook. This is exactly why I dipped. You treat people like shit.”
“Spare me the theatrics. I treat you like shit because you’ve never been worth anything more.” I press my blade against her jugular. “Tell me what I want to know.”
“I’d rather die,” she sneers.
I grin. “Oh, rest assured you will.” I lean down, my lips at her ear. “You made a mistake choosing Peter.”
Her brows furrow and then she laughs, her head smacking against the floor until tears seep out the corner of her eyes. “Oh my god, you don’t even know, do you?”
My jaw clenches, my free hand reaching up and grasping her hair, lifting her head up and slamming it against the ground. She cries out as I push her face into the floor, my knife back at her throat. “Speak in riddles again and I’ll cut off your lips.”
She winces. “I don’t know Peter, okay? My man is Croc.” She pushes her neck into the edge of my blade. “And he’s coming for your head.”
I remove the blade, replacing it with my fingers, squeezing until I feel her trachea in the palm of my hand. She coughs, her eyes bulging at the pressure. “You don’t—don’t want to do that,” she wheezes.
“I promise you, I do.”
“He has your precious Wendy. And I know where she is.”
Before this moment, I always thought I had known fear. Had assumed that staring down the face of my uncle—hearing the ticks of his watch as he locked my bedroom door—was the epitome of the word.
I was wrong.
Because I have never known the icy grip of true terror as I do when Wendy’s name passes Moira’s lips.
The blunt end of my knife comes down on her head before she can speak again, knocking her out cold. I drop her body to the floor, rushing to find my phone and pull up the GPS tracker installed in her necklace, hoping beyond hope that she still has it on.
She does.
And she’s at Cannibal Cave.
But if it isn’t Peter, then why are they there?
Once I have her location, I’m out the door, Starkey and the twins coming with me, and Curly staying behind. He’s waiting on my call. Once I make sure Wendy is really there, he’s to put a bullet in Moira’s head.
I’d like to prolong her torture, but Wendy’s safety is paramount, and I don’t want to leave loose ends.
The drive to Cannibal’s Cave takes half the time it normally would, my foot like lead on the pedal, my mind spinning in a thousand different directions.
I am so stupid for believing that my enemies wouldn’t take her from me.
That Peter wouldn’t use his own daughter. I underestimated him once again.
The boys are relatively quiet in the car, Starkey sits in the passenger seat with a pistol in his lap, and the twins speak quietly to each other in the back. And my insides are raging, my mind praying to a god who’s already sentenced me to hell, bartering my soul as long as it keeps Wendy safe.
She has to be safe.
As soon as we hit the cave’s entrance, I throw the car in park. “Okay.” I blow out a breath, slipping on my gloves and checking the chamber of my gun. “Are you ready, boys?” I grin. “The time has come to pay the piper.” I don’t wait for them to follow, knowing they’ll have my back. I’m solely focused on finding Wendy, getting her to safety, and then killing every person who thought they could use her against me. Surprise flickers at the realization that revenge doesn’t even matter to me now, not if it’s at the cost of her life.
Walking past the charred trees, I ignore the way my chest pulls from the memory of Ru’s body lighting up in flames, and head into the entrance of the cave. I go through the narrow rocky hall, and into the large opening, my steps faltering when I see Wendy, unconscious, tied to a chair with dried blood on the side of her face.
My heart falls to the floor, fire decimating my insides at the sight.
I will burn them all.
“Hook, nice of you to make it!”
My chest cramps at Peter’s voice. I had been holding out hope that it wasn’t actually Wendy’s own father who would go to such extremes just to get to me.
“Peter.” I place my hands in my pockets. “Funny seeing you here, being a disastrous father figure, once again.”
He chuckles as he looks at his daughter. “Yeah, well, sometimes sacrifices must be made.”
I tilt my head. “You would harm your own daughter?”
His eyes darken. “She wasn’t supposed to be hurt. Tina got a little carried away.”
“Hmm.” I glance over at her again, focusing on the even rise and fall of her chest, the relief from seeing her breathing making me able to focus on Peter instead. “Maybe you need to keep a tighter rein on your bitch.”
He runs a hand over his mouth, his shoulders lifting. “You’re probably right. But what can you do? Women.”
I sigh. “I tire of playing these games, Peter. Tell me why you lured me here.” I put my arms out to the sides. “I assume that’s what all of this is for?”