Page 8 of Savage

“Why have I become the judge, jury, and executioner?” Her voice is a whisper, drenched in pain and guilt.

“They deserved it,” I tell her as I twist in my seat so I can face her. “Nothing about what we do is easy. But if you think about the lives we’re saving, it makes all this shit worthwhile. We’re not hurting good people, Harper.”

She flicks her gaze toward me, and I see the sparkle of tears glistening in her eyes as she regards me. “I just hate that I had a choice, and I chose to kill.”

“And he had a choice, too,” I remind her. I know the story of the doctor who paid millions for the videos her father made, so there’s no need to find excuses for killing him. As far as I’m concerned, he should have been put down like a fucking animal years ago. “Being sorry about something doesn’t always make it right. He had a choice, and he chose wrong.”

Life doesn’t afford many second chances. Dr. Stirling may have had regrets and tried helping others, but it doesn’t change what he’d already done. And it doesn’t mean he truly repented. Not until he was caught, that is.

“There are some crimes people can come back from. There’s no doubt about that,” I continue. “But there are some people who can never change. He may have been a fucking excellent therapist, but how do you know he didn’t get off on hearing his patients’ stories?”

Harper nods then replies, “I wondered the same thing.”

I didn’t expect her to agree.

We’ve found evil in an array of different guises doing this job. And we’ve come across some vile assholes, especially those who enjoy hearing about their victims’ trauma. There have been days when I’ve been physically sick, and only their blood on my hands could ease the rage that fueled me.

“So,” I say then, reaching my hand out for her to take. “I don’t want you to feel guilty. It’s not on you. These were adults who were meant to keep you safe.”

Sometimes, we need to remind ourselves why we’re doing this. I’m not a good person, but there is a morality to my reasoning. We’re doing this to save the women and children who are still being held captive and to prevent anymore of them being taken.

Harper grasps my hand and gives it a squeeze before she says, “I know, Dante. Thank you for the reminder.” I can still hear the pain in her voice, but I know she’ll be okay. She’s stronger than she thinks.

“Right, little mouse, let’s get inside.”

I press a kiss to her knuckles before exiting the car. She follows me as we make our way inside. The house is silent, and I wonder if Rayne is sleeping. It’s still early, so she should be around.

“Gym?” Harper suggests, and as we enter the large training room filled with equipment, we find our blonde beauty.

When we walk in, Rayne looks up and smiles as she sets down the weights she’s been using. I’ve been training them both to fight, to defend themselves if the need ever arises. I would never allow either of my girls to go on a job without me, but I worry when they’re out on their own shopping or having lunch in the city.

“We might have a lead,” Rayne says as she comes up to kiss both me and Harper. “Falcon has been helping me hack into a database that popped up on the dark web.”

“Oh?” I arch a brow, intrigued by what information this could give us.

“We discovered a few names on there we haven’t seen before. The Fallen will check out the ones living in the States, but there were a couple in Europe and one in London that could be an important lead. It’s a name I recognize because he used to own me.”

I look at Harper then back to Rayne. “It seems we’re heading to London, then.”

It’s been a while since we’ve traveled to the Big Smoke, but we’re only a few hours flight away, so it’s worth checking out any leads that crop up.

“I’ve already called ahead. The pilot is ready and waiting,” Rayne tells us with a smile.

I want to end this more than anyone, but I know we still have a long way to go. I’ve a feeling we’re going to discover a lot more names in the coming months.

“Every time we eliminate one of these monsters, more of them pop up. And it worries me,” I tell them.

“Why?” Harper asks as she looks at me.

She looks calmer now, less agitated, and I want to smile. I don’t, but I want to.

“It worries me because it means this is never ending. It’s a continuous circle of trafficking.”

“It will end.” Harper’s assurance comes with a smile. But I can read the trepidation in her eyes.

One thing I’ve learned about my little mouse is that she hates killing. It doesn’t matter what they’ve done. It seems to hurt her. Whereas I can end a life without blinking and enjoy every moment. I savor their agony and pain.

Rayne is different again. She will always make sure the person in question is guilty beyond any reasonable doubt. Then she’ll do her job, walk away, and never talk about it again. Perhaps that’s not a good thing. But it’s the way she handles it.

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