Page 56 of Fast Vengeance

Get the fuck out of my way.

She managed to hold it back and shoved his restraining arm aside instead. Heart thudding, she stepped around him to look at the screen.

The instant she did, she came to an immediate halt, the soles of her shoes suddenly glued to the floor. She covered her mouth with one hand, tears flooding her eyes as she took in the horrific image before her.

Oh my God, no. Please, no…

Rodriguez leaned forward, hit a button to start the video. A chilling voice came from behind the camera.

“Say your name.”

They’d beaten Brock to a pulp. He was covered in blood. And they’d included proof of the date by showing the front page of a newspaper.

She bit her lips together, blinked back tears as she watched in horror.

It took a long moment for him to respond, and when he did his voice was so hoarse with pain that she died a little inside on hearing it. “S-supervisory Special Agent B-Brock Hamilton.”

“Did it come?”

At the question from behind her, Victoria tore her eyes away from the horrible image and spun to face Oceane, who rushed into the room with an anxious expression on her face.

She locked eyes with Victoria. “Did they send the video? Is he alive?”

This time Victoria was the one to step forward and try to block her friend from seeing the monitor. But it was too late. Oceane had already looked at it.

She froze, her blue-gray eyes widening in shock, then horror. She twisted away with a cry, covering her eyes too late in a futile effort to block out what she’d just seen.

SHE HAD ONLY seen the screen for a split second, and that sickening image was already burned into her memory forever.

Oceane struggled to breathe, tried to make sense of what she’d just seen, couldn’t control the horror and outrage swamping her.

They’d chained him. By the wrists. Left him hanging from the ceiling in some sick reproduction of Jesus on the cross, his arms spread out and his legs dangling beneath him.

He’d been covered in blood, his face split open. And he was shaking, a combination of pain and cold, judging from the blue tinge around his bloody mouth.

Her father had done this. Ordered for Brock to be tortured and then had one of his men film the aftermath.

Oh God, she was going to be sick. She swallowed, her stomach pitching. She took a stumbling step forward, blindly reached for something to steady herself with.

A low curse sounded from somewhere in the background, then strong arms banded around her from behind, holding her upright.

Gabe. His familiar, comforting scent surrounded her, but as reassuring as his presence usually was, it didn’t help the nausea. She gagged, tried to push free before she got sick on him.

Someone shoved a trash container in front of her. She reached for it, latched onto the sides as her stomach heaved, bringing up the tiny amount of dinner she’d forced down her throat earlier on the plane. Acid burned up her esophagus, her eyes watering as she retched until it was empty.

Someone took the bucket from her. Gabe scooped her up in his arms, lifting her off her feet. She made a sound of protest and weakly pushed at his shoulder, but he wouldn’t be swayed. In moments he’d carried her outside into the muggy night air. Victoria was there, holding the trash can.

“Put me down,” she whispered to Gabe, pushing harder on his chest. As good as it felt to have him hold her, she didn’t want him to see her as weak. And God, he and the others must all hate her guts for what her father had done to Brock.

He set her on her feet gently. “Sit down, then,” he ordered softly. Someone must have brought him a water bottle because he unscrewed the cap and handed it to her.

She took it, rinsed her mouth out several times, spitting into the bushes that lined the concrete sidewalk that led to the main building’s entrance. How had she been fathered by a man who could do such a thing to another human being? How had she lived for so many years without ever seeing the true monster inside the man?

“Here,” Gabe said, holding out a silver wrapper. A stick of gum.

She unwrapped it and stuck it in her mouth, her stomach quivering. Victoria knelt down next to her, set a comforting arm around her shoulders, her dark eyes worried.

Oceane shook her head, tears clogging her throat. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry,” she whispered, her chest hitching.

---