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She’s a shell of the person who’s tended so carefully to me for the past four years. Almost like we’ve swapped places, back to how we were before…and then some. She almost looks like me.

When she sinks into the corner of the couch and pulls the throw around her, clutching the edge against her mouth as if it will hold back the horror of whatever she’s done, I ask, “Tell me what happened.”

Tears stream down her face and where I’m calm and strong, she’s shaking like a leaf and terrified to give voice to her confession. “It’s my fault. I’m the reason they found Teague. Oh my God, Tru, I’m so sorry. If he’s hurt… if he’s⁠—”

“Don’t finish that. Don’t give voice to the possibility that he’s anything worse than just hurt. Wounds can heal, right? Relationships are forever, so tell me what happened. Who has him?”

Her body shakes with silent sobs, the force required to hold herself together too much to bear. I know that feeling. And I hate that Winnie is experiencing it, but I need her to spill.

“The police. An officer…detective, maybe, was here looking for Teague. Christophe was on a call in his office, so I chatted with him just for a moment. Just for a minute. I was careful, Tru, I was. I know how crooked they are. I know how bad they can be. But he said he was Teague’s cousin and I… I just… Oh my fuck, I’m so fucking sorry. I told him Teague was on his way. That he’d be here soon. He smiled, and I swear I could see the hint of resemblance. I could see that they were related. He said he wouldn’t bother us further, that he’d just go meet Teague before he got here and chat with him real quick. I’m so sorry.”

Chapter 21

Roar

TEAGUE

I’ve only been here for a handful of hours, but every single one of them has sucked ass. But the pain coursing through my body hasn’t dulled my rage. No, that is fully intact and growing by leaps and bounds.

Every strike striped across my back has me seeing red. Every detail Desmond lays out on the time he spent torturing Truie feeds the murderous fire in my belly. I thought I killed the men who hurt her in the dungeon and thought she took care of the last when she shot Alain. As it turns out, the worst of the monsters escaped unscathed.

That won’t stand. If it kills me, if it’s the last thing I do, I will rid the world of the worst of the monsters.

“C’mon. You’re the one who took her, went all white knight and carried her out, hid her away. How the fuck do you think I’m gonna believe you have no idea? Where the fuck did she hide the fucking thing? It has to be her. She’s the one I was fucking. Christ, she made the sweetest sounds when I sliced into her skin, painted her with blood, mixed it with my cum.” He grits his teeth in an evil grin as he shares the details like he’s an artist proud of his unparalleled masterpiece. “You should have seen her, all red swirled with my pearly white.”

I roar. I don’t know how I have the energy for it, but I fucking roar before dropping my voice and giving life to all the ways I plan on fucking up his life. “Keep talking, Des. Keep telling me every little detail of the shit you did to that woman, I fucking beg you. Keep talking. Because you, you pencil-dicked little twat… I will rain down on you the same pain, the same torture, the same humiliation, and the same fucking degradation that you so generously bestowed upon her. I will exact her revenge piece by piece, slice by fucking slice.”

A telltale whistle through the air warns of the next strike against my back. This one allows the darkness to edge in closer and almost takes me under.

“You can’t do shit, Tig. Look at you. Your hands are free and you still can’t get yourself out of that chain. Fucking pathetic.” He circles me as he taunts. “Maybe you need some motivation. Maybe if I send one of the boys on an errand to catch the little piglet, drag her back here by the fucking toe and give you a front row seat to a show. Maybe then you’ll talk. Maybe she will. I need that fucking file.”

I have never felt so useless, so impotent. Because he’s right, my throbbing mangled hands aren’t doing me any good. My back is on fire. The only thing sustaining me is the fucking rage.

One hand. If I had use of just one hand, I could do it. Take Desmond down. I’m pretty sure there’s only one other guy working with him. Not a cousin, no relation that I know of, and he’s young. Fit but inexperienced and maybe not as smart as he should be if he’s working with a dirty cop.

The door cracks open, sucking the silence from the room and replacing it with the sounds of classic rock and the garage beyond.

“Uh, boss? There’s a guy out here, says he needs to talk to you. Looks official.”

Desmond turns, staring at the messenger. “And you think telling me this through an open door is the smart thing to do? Shut the fucking door, you⁠—”

“Hey. You give him the message?” I lift my gaze, the haze clearing as I make eye contact with the floppy-haired kid Christophe seems to have a soft spot for. Fucking Roux gives me the subtlest of chin lifts. “I need this guy gone, he’s blocking the bay, and I can’t move the cars out.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Desmond growls. “Shut the fucking door. You want to just invite him back here? Who the fuck is it anyway?”

Roux shrugs, wiping his hands on a greasy towel, doing his best to keep his shit tight. And maybe to Desmond, he is, but the little double bounce on his toes and the way his left shoulder shrugs a little higher, a little tighter, has me bracing for the incoming breach.

It happens fast. And quiet.

Roux bobs left and Desmond’s sidekick drops in a heap to the floor, blood blooming around him.

Desmond, shitty cop that he is, freezes. Not that there’s much he can do. Nowhere he can go.

Christophe’s guys, fully kitted in tactical gear, are through the door and on him before he has a chance to react.

“Your kin, right?” Tierney asks, knee in Desmond’s back as he holds the blade of his knife to his throat. “You want me to end this for you or…?”

“Jesus, you’re a mess.” Gaufre pushes through and helps me to stand. Pain lances through my body silencing me. Turning, he adds, “Get Hibou, we’re going to need to field dress some of this shit before we can move him.” He lifts the chain from around my neck and props me on a metal chair. “I’m gonna hit you with morphine, help dull some of this. You want the cop dead or alive?”