Page 50 of Ruthless Vengeance
My brother doesn’t give a shit about who gets hurt. All he’s ever cared about is himself, which only makes me more anxious to hear what he has to say.
The only reason he gave up the information on Cillian was to exchange it for Marco’s protection, nothing more. So, whatever reason he has for wanting to speak to me now, it likely has nothing to do with him wanting to make amends.
Marco turns slightly in his seat to face me. “Look at me, Clara.”
I swallow before pulling my attention away from the warehouse. When I look over at Marco’s dark brown eyes, my body relaxes.
“Do you trust me, love?”
I nod without hesitation, and Marco’s shoulders relax as he lets out a breath. It seems he’s just as apprehensive about having me talk to Ben as I am.
Marco reaches for my hand. “If you want to leave at any point, just say the word and I’ll get you out of there, no questions asked.”
I exhale as I entwine my fingers with his. “I need to do this, for myself as much as for you.”
Marco watches me for another moment, looking for any hint of doubt in my words, any reason to tell me to stay in the car.
But I hold his gaze with silent determination until he dips his chin.
“Okay, let’s get this over with.” He squeezes my hand once.
We step out into the cold air, and I wrinkle my nose as I’m hit with the smell of concrete and metal.
Marco keeps my hand in his, his grip firm, as he leads us over to the main door of the warehouse and bangs his free fist against the metal.
Heavy footsteps sound on the other side, and then a heavily lined face appears.
“Ah, it’s you,” the man grunts before opening the door fully.
“Nice to see you too, Dom.” Marco chuckles, though the sound is anything but light. “I’ve brought Clara to see Ben.”
Dom’s pale blue eyes flick to me, and I cringe under the scrutiny of his gaze.
He’s at least half a foot taller than Marco, with a series of intricate tattoos snaking up his bare arms and neck. A thick scar runs along the length of his shaved head, and to my horror, he’s missing an earlobe.
Suddenly, my hands feel incredibly sweaty, but I refuse to let go of Marco.
“You better not have killed him while I was gone.” Marco leads me inside the warehouse.
“No, but I wish I had,” Dom grumbles.
I try not to flinch at Dom’s words, but that’s hard to do when he’s talking about wanting to kill my brother.
We might not have a relationship anymore, but we once did. In my mind, he is still the child who used to make mud pies with me in the backyard, not the serial criminal who waits for me inside this warehouse.
I wish I could detach the memories I have of Ben from when we were kids from the man I’m about to face, but that’s easier said than done.
As we cross the warehouse floor, I focus solely on the feeling of Marco’s calloused fingers against mine, the warmth of his skin,the sound of his footsteps. Anything to distract myself from my pounding heart and the reality that I’m about to face my brother.
The last time I saw Ben, I was the one locked in the cell. I know firsthand how terrifying it is to feel so helpless, and yet I willingly let Marco do the very same to him.
And yes, I know he should be locked up, he escaped his punishment. But this is not it, is it? This is doing to him what was done to me.
Does that make me no better than Ben?
The thought makes my stomach churn.
Marco squeezes my hand as Dom leads us down a dimly lit hallway.
