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“Not going in there?” Briar asks, gaze glaring at Roman’s bruised body. My brother’s face is swollen, jaw distended, dried blood on his shirt. He’s bound to the chair, and he looks down at his feet, ignoring the newcomers. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking.

Killian shakes his head. “This is for them.”

My husband snorts. “But you want to.”

His knuckles pop, fisting at his side. “More than anything.” His dark eyes look at me, and I shudder. “You have every right to be in there, too. For what he did.”

Logically, I do. Roman has kept me a prisoner, a trophy on a shelf to be awarded to the highest bidder. If anyone should have their revenge, I should be one of the first in line.

I’m not a killer, though. I don’t want his death staining my conscience. Knowing my sister-in-law and brother will be the ones to kill on my behalf is more than enough.

“They need it,” I respond, hip braced against Briar’s. “I have my closure; this is theirs.”

Maeve bends, eye-level with Roman. He spits on her, missing her face, but a bloody glob lands on her shirt. Killian tenses, but Hayes’s hand flies out, connecting with Roman’s cheek. My brother teeters backward from the force of it.

“It’s done, by the way,” the Reaper mutters, gaze fastened to the two inside the room. Hayes punches Roman again, a smile breaking across his face. It’s vicious, and I grin slightly at his glee.

“All of it?” Briar asks, and I turn, confused.

Seeing me, Killian shrugs. “The women we released have all found a place to go. For therapy.” After Briar got me out of the hotel, I demanded to speak to the others who were at the house. My only request was to free them.

“Lex made good on his word,” he explains, shrugging. “The girls are getting all the support. Cherry, too.”

“You found her?” My eyes widen.

He smirks. “Of course I did.”

Briar rolls his eyes, scoffing. “Show-off.”

“The house still stands,” Killian continues, slipping his hands into his pockets. “You could return to it. Do something with the Bruno name.”

Biting my thumb, I shrug. “I could. But I’m not a Bruno.” I never was.

After discovering Ello was my father, I’ve spent the last few nights diving into his and my mother’s background. They fell in love young, with romanticized dreams of marrying in secret. Her father never approved of Ello or his humble upbringing.

When Roman Bruno Senior came looking for his payment, Carina’s father hatched a plan: sell his daughter before she could marry someone he hated. My grandfather signed an agreement; she’d be free after producing an heir for Senior. Somehow, Ello convinced Senior to hire him on as Carina’s personal guard. She might not have married him, but he was determined to never be without her while she tried to finish her contract.

Ello—my father—confessed it was torture to watch Senior touch my mother. To know she was his during the nights he was home. He hated the bruises he left, the way he used her. He tried to soothe her after, and after Roman was born, they planned to leave.

But Senior put her on lockdown. He forced another child on her and refused to honor the agreement. She was trapped—and Ello refused to leave her. They did the best they could while trying to escape. After I was born, she didn’t want to wait any longer, knowing I would be used in Senior’s empire. They planned to meet at a predestined spot and be a family. Ello was to bring me separately, but Senior planted a bomb in her car. She was killed before she left the compound.

My heart broke for my father, to watch his love endure so much, only to lose her in the end. It’s why he stuck so close to me—my mother’s will paid him to be my guard should anything happen to her, and Senior tried for years to find it. When he was arrested, that duty fell to Roman. Neither were able to find it.

Because Ello had it, safeguarded off-grounds. With it, we accessed my mother’s wealth, where it truly belonged—with us.

“I have a plan,” I tell them both. “The Bruno name will die with Roman, and with it, their empire.”

Killian smirks and Briar presses a kiss to my forehead. “Whatever you want, I’ll follow your lead, Sunshine.”

His support makes me smile. “I’ll need a lighter.”

His eyes flash with something unholy. “Kinky. I’m in.”

A crash directs us back to the window. Roman falls to the ground, and Maeve’s spiked heel is against his throat. The tip presses so deeply that a spot of red appears.

“Finally,” Briar mutters, arm wrapping around my waist.

Hayes cocks his gun and holds it out. The barrel is pointed down, his knuckles white. He says something so low I can’t hear it through the glass.