He picks up after two rings. “Is he okay?”
I release a fractured exhale as I nod. “Yeah, Dad. He’s okay for now.”
“Thank fuck.”
I exhale shakily into the phone, trying not to crack the fucking thing with how much I’m tightening my grip on it.
Soon after Bran went into surgery, I called my dad, breaking apart, hyperventilating. He told me to breathe and I asked how the fuck I was supposed to do that when the love of my fucking life was fighting death on a surgeon’s table.
That’s when I told him everything in a word vomit. Everything about Bran and me. Everything about how that fucking pedophile is taking him away from me and that I need her gone. Erased. Fucking eradicated.
Dad said simply, “Then we’ll get it done.”
He jumped on his private plane while I was talking to him and said he’d make arrangements with his godfather to find the vermin.
“Just landed, son. It’ll take me approximately an hour to get to North West London.”
“Give me an address, Dad. I need the fucking address.”
“Listen to me, Nikolai. I know you’re agitated. I can hear it in your voice, and it’s okay to feel like that, but you will not make a reckless fucking mistake that will get you arrested. I told you if we’re doing this, we’re doing it my way.”
I run a frustrated hand over my face. “I can’t wait anymore. I need her fucking blood.”
“Nikolai. Think of Brandon, okay? Think of how he’ll feel if he wakes up and finds out you’re being arrested for murder.”
“Fuck!” I drive my fist against a wall and ignore the pain that explodes in my knuckles.
“The UK is different from the States,” he continues in a collected tone. “It’s smaller and more contained, so there’s no room for mistakes. Tell me you understand that.”
“Just get here, Dad. Please, hurry.”
“I’ll be there in fifty-three minutes. I’ll forward you the coordinates. Let’s meet there.”
After he hangs up, I check the map he sends me as I stride through the hospital door.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I whip around to find Landon staring at me with harsh eyes. “Whatever you’re doing, I want in.”
Grace lives in this glamorous residential area in St. John’s Wood that’s full of fucking cameras and private security measures. That’s why Dad insisted we wait until his contacts had everything under control.
When we get the okay, Dad, Landon, and I don’t even have to sneak around. We walk into her building and take the elevator to her apartment.
We enter the code and stride right in.
My throat floods with disgust when we get inside her living room, where that video was taken. The sofa and the decor have changed, but it’s still the same revolting place where she stole a piece of my lotus flower.
It’s time she gives it back.
Landon must feel the same, because he snarls at it, his fists clenching.
A commotion reaches us from the bedroom, things being knocked over, curses sounding in the air.
Dad stands in the doorway and nods at us. “Go do your thing. I’ll be here.”
I nod sharply, thankful beyond words for having him as my father. Not many encourage their children's murderous ideas or their need for vengeance.
My father, Kyle Hunter, the most elite sniper you’ll ever encounter, feeds my tendencies in the healthiest ways possible.
Landon and I move silently to where the sounds are coming from. Grace doesn’t seem to notice us or the deep fucking hole she’s dug for herself.
She’s packing a suitcase, shoving clothes in with their hangers, and curses when they don’t fit. A red satin robe covers her body and her makeup-free face reveals the fucking monster lurking beneath.
Landon is the one who strolls in, both hands in his pockets as he whistles. “Going somewhere, Grace?”
She jerks, knocking the giant suitcase off the bed.
Her beady brown eyes widen as she watches us, her gaze ping-ponging between us. “What…how did you get in…?”
“That’s not important.” Landon grabs her by a fistful of her hair and she shrieks. Good thing she’s rich and can afford a soundproof apartment. “What is important, however, is what you did to my brother. My. Fucking. Brother!”
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about. Lan, let me go. You’re hurting me.”
“Good. It’ll hurt a lot worse in a minute, you worthless fucking bitch!”
“Lan…please…” Her voice cracks, tears pooling in her eyes.
“Too early to beg. We still haven’t done anything.”
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t bring back the years you took from him.” I speak for the first time. “Sorry doesn’t give him back the blood he fucking lost tonight!”
“I really thought he liked me as well. He kissed me.” Her lips tremble. “He always kissed me.”
“He asked you to stop. Countless times,” I snarl in her face. “You shut him up and took what you wanted.”
“I’m going to need you to say it out loud now, Grace.” Lan tears at the hairs on her scalp. “I’m your god and I want you to confess what you fucking did.”
“Lan, please.”
“Fucking say it,” I roar and pull out a gun from my waistband, then jam it against her forehead.
“I did it! I assaulted him when he was fifteen. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I really didn’t think he hated it. Please don’t kill me. I’m so sorry!”
She’s full-out sobbing now, shaking, and being a fucking mess of snot and tears. If Landon wasn’t holding her, she’d fall in a heap on the floor.
“Channel that energy and write it down.” He shoves her onto her vanity chair and I grab the notepad and pen from her bedside table and throw them in front of her.
“W-what do you mean?” She stares at us with a lost expression.
“Write down everything you did to him,” I say. “In detail. Confess your fucking sins.”
“Including the grooming.” Landon grabs her hand, shoves the pen between her fingers, and slams them on the paper.
She tries to shake her head, but my gun at the back of it stops her.
“Make it quick. We don’t have all night.”
Grace cries the entire time she writes, her hand trembling and blotches of tears smudging the words.
After she’s done signing it per my order, she releases a choppy breath as if she’s run a marathon. Landon reads her letter and then puts it in front of her again. “Ask him for forgiveness. Ask Mum for forgiveness for breaking her trust. Write about how you know nothing you can say can forgive what you’ve done, but you’ve been tortured for years and have never forgiven yourself for it.”
She jots down the words, sniffling. After she’s finished, Landon reads it again and nods in approval. Then he grabs her by the hair and drags her to her bathroom as she screams.
I follow them to find him shoving her into her gigantic bathtub and turning on the faucet full blast.
She thrashes, sending water everywhere. “What are you doing? Let me go this instant! I already did what you asked!”