I’d injected him with cyanide, as had Frankie with the other guy. He would be dead within minutes. I didn’t give a shit. He’d said some pretty nasty things to me whilst shoving me in the cell for Stuart. Not to mention the times he’d kicked me in the stomach for good measure. He deserved to die painfully. To be honest, everyone on the estate deserved it. They were all complicit in holding me captive.
West walked into the security building to work out how to open the gate. Francis looked over at me, a slight look of concern on his face.
“You okay, Scar?”
I shook my head. I wouldn’t be okay until this was over with. Until everyone was dead. Until I’d destroyed this place where I’d been brainwashed and held against my will for ten years. It would be my fucking reckoning. I’d never believed in revenge or an eye for an eye, but what Stuart had done to me… it was unforgivable. This wasn’t revenge. It was justice.
I put my hand up when he made to walk over to me. If any of them comforted me during this, I might break. They could catch me when I fell, but only after we’d destroyed Stuart Carver for good. Right now, falling apart was not an option.
“Let me do this. I need to.”
Francis gave me a nod, but the concern didn’t leave his face.
This was personal for me. I was the one who’d been kidnapped. I’d been stolen from my life. I was the one who’d make them all fucking pay.
Drake and Prescott pulled the second car up behind us, both getting out. Prescott immediately came over to me. My eyes were on Sam, whose breathing was shallow now. He’d passed out a minute ago.
“Take him to the car,” I said, my voice hollow.
Prescott put a hand on my arm and gave it a squeeze. I turned away and got back in the car to wait for them to deal with the men and the gate. My hands splayed out over the dashboard as I took a deep breath, bowing my head to try to regain some semblance of control over my warring emotions. I vaguely heard the gate opening before West and Francis got back into the car. West started it and then we were moving. I looked up, watching the dark road ahead of us and the trees surrounding the estate.
The moment the main house came into view, I sat back and put my hand over my mouth, bile rising up in my throat. My prison held ugly memories. Being back at the scene of the crime was horrific. My low moan of fear had Francis reaching forward and squeezing my shoulder. He said nothing, just gave me the reassurance they were all here for me.
West pulled the car up near the fancy turning circle in front of the house with a fountain in the middle of it. Drake and Prescott stopped next to us, getting out of the car a moment later. The two men we’d poisoned were in the back of their car.
I stared at the building in front of us through the windscreen. It was strange to see it all lit up, given it was nearing eleven o’clock at night. Dark deeds were best done at night when the country was sleeping. When no one would be any the wiser until the morning light arrived.
“Ready, little Scar?”
My eyes flicked to West. Seeing his amber eyes so full of love had me taking another deep breath and unbuckling my seatbelt. I could do this. I had my boys with me.
“As I’ll ever be.”
The three of us got out of the car, joining Drake and Prescott, who stared at the estate with thinned mouths and angry expressions on their faces. They knew what had gone down in the walls of this place.
You’d think we would have had a party to meet us with all the security Stuart had for this place. I smiled. He didn’t account for how much I knew about his fucking estate. Instead of guards, there was a single man waiting for us at the front door.
I walked over to him as the boys got the two men out of the car. Gio had a tight smile on his face when I stood before him.
“Hey.”
“Miss,” he replied with a nod.
“Is it done?”
“Yes. It wasn’t easy, but you shouldn’t have any trouble.”
I hadn’t told him what we were going to do to everyone, but I’m sure he was more than aware. After all, the boys had threatened his life if he didn’t help us. This had been the hardest part of our plan, getting Gio alone so we could have a conversation with him. Of all the people in Stuart’s employ, his chef had been the only one who was nice to me. Everyone here was complicit in what had been done to me, but I had no interest in harming this man. He’d given me comforts no one else had, like the birthday cake he’d made for me last year when I’d been locked in the cell. The memory of Mason giving it to me was sour, but that wasn’t Gio’s fault.
“You should get out of here.”
He reached out and squeezed my shoulder.
“Live well, Scarlett.”
Then he walked away towards the car nearby. If he said a word or revealed his involvement in this to anyone, the boys would hunt him down and end his life. He knew that. They hadn’t wanted to let him go. Gio wasn’t innocent, but his help had meant we could destroy this place and get away with it. At least, that was the plan.
I watched him start the car and drive away towards the road leading off the estate. The one we’d just driven along.
The boys joined me, Prescott and Drake, carrying the two men who were now dead. I stared up at the house, dreading having to walk inside. It wasn’t a place I had any interest in returning to, but soon it would be gone. Eviscerated from the world. I kept that in mind as I stepped into the lobby through the open front doors.
The building had two large wings on either side of the centre part. One of them was for the staff, the other for Stuart and Phoebe. The middle part held all the entertaining rooms, places for the public when Stuart held dinners and parties here. I was never allowed to attend those, but I’d snuck out and watched on several occasions just to see something outside of my limited worldview. I got caught a lot, landing me in the cell, but it didn’t stop me. My need for something more outweighed the risk.
The lobby was a grand affair with a staircase curled around each side ending in a landing overlooking the marble floor below. My footsteps echoed around the vast space as I made my way into the centre of it and looked up at the painted ceiling. Stuart had commissioned the artwork when I was still in my teens after he’d visited the Sistine Chapel in the Vatican. He liked over the top shit to demonstrate his wealth and influence. Everyone always admired it when they walked in. I personally thought it was excessive, but there was no accounting for taste. Everything about Stuart Carver was lavish and fucking gaudy if you asked me.
West came to a stand next to me, his eyes darting around the place as he rested a sledgehammer on his shoulder. His face was a picture of disgust.
“What the fuck is this shit?” He waved at the ceiling with his free hand. “Who does he think he is? The lord of the fucking manor? What a cunt.”
“You could say that. He likes to show off his wealth.”