Page 191 of Kiss the Villain

“No, thanks. That will probably hurt, and I don’t like that shit.”

“Jethro’s right.” Simone, who’s usually less argumentative than Jethro, is still glaring at me. “Gareth doesn’t deserve this. No matter what his grandfather did.”

“Save the I-told-you-so moment.” I pull harder on the collar, nearly ripping it.

Of course, they were both against it. Even Jethro has been saying there’s proof Alexander was there that night, not that he was present when Cassandra was violated and killed.

Lately, they’ve both been trying to get me to come back. Abandon the whole thing. Leave Gareth alone.

Simone even saved all the money Gareth paid her for the PI side gig in a different bank account, intent on giving it all back.

Unless I’m imagining it, I’d think they both like him. Which is ironic since they don’t even likememost of the time.

“Let’s get this over with first.” Simone jumps out of the van before it properly stops. “One and two, with me!”

A few other men jump from the vans and I follow suit, a gun in my hand.

We’re surrounded by trees on all sides, their dark branches stretching upward, cutting into the sky. The air is thick with the earthy scent of moss and damp soil, muffling the world beyond the wilderness. In the distance stands a large, brutalist-like structure, its sharp angles and imposing concrete facade looking lifeless against the natural chaos of the forest.

“All security disabled,” Jethro says. “Fifteen minutes.”

We rush into the formation Simone devised with the little knowledge we have on Declan’s house in the forest.

Which isn’t much since I didn’t even know he had this place. It’s more like a compound.

Declan and his men only carry untraceable phones, especially since they knew I’d try to find him through them.

We only managed to locate this place through the tracker I had Jethro insert in Gareth’s bracelet. We lost the signal when Declan took him on a plane, but we got it back again once they landed in Chicago and then they headed all the way here.

It took us time to arrange the plane and the plan, but we finally made it—without a wink of sleep on my part. I couldn’t do that when Gareth’s fate is unknown.

Declan’s men start shooting at us immediately, but Simone and the others cover me as we kill our way in.

Simone’s presence is like a wall of steel at my back. The air is thick and suffocating inside as she shoots and wrestles men twice her size with brutal efficiency, tossing one of them into the wall.

I grab one by his hair and slam his head on the concrete, watching as it cracks open.

Jethro gives me directions to where Gareth is, and I follow, letting Simone and the others take care of the men.

The floor beneath me thuds with each step, but I barely hear or see anything. Not the shouts, the alarms, the gunshots.

As I shoot open the door to the room where Gareth is, my heart pounds so violently in my chest, I feel the sickening sound of it in my throat, like it's trying to rip its way out.

Gareth’s arms are bound in a straitjacket as he bangs his head on the wall.

Again.

And again.

The thuds are a disturbing silent scream.

Blood spatters across the wall, splashing over a projected video, and drips in jagged lines, carving small veins that trail down to the floor, pooling beneath him. It stains his bare feet, and his white pants, and there’s a red blotch on the arm of his straitjacket—messing him up.

You messed him up.

I rush toward him and pull him back by the shoulders. There’s a gaping wound in his forehead, blood trickling over his nose, his eyes, his entire face.

Fuck.

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