Page 41 of Lethal Vengeance
“What about the person you are now?” Zane probes.
I stare at the colorful houses on this street, admiring their boldness. “I’ve been thinking about that question a lot lately,” I reflect softly. “I’m not sure I know the answer. I’m proud of how strong I’ve become. The old me would be ashamed of the horrible, almost unforgiveable acts I’ve committed, but the new me accepts them. I only truly regret one thing. Is that enough? It’s a tough call. I don’t think a person can ever really know what’s inside until they’re put to the test. My test is coming.”
Zane looks out into the night. “There are some things you can’t come back from, and I don’t want that for you. Sometimes, it’s okay to put yourself first.”
I give a half-laugh. “That’s rich coming from you. When do you ever put yourself first?” He looks surprised by my words. “Maybe you should try it and let me know how it goes.”
The door to the apartment building is just a few feet ahead. I tug him to a stop.
“Sophia won’t be able to find peace until they’re dead. All of them. I know this with every fiber of my shattered soul. It’s why I’m here,” I say, trying to put into words why this is so important to me.
“Kill them and give her peace. It can be done in a day. Why do you need to torture them?” he bellows, his voice loud in the night air.
Ahh, Julio. “Do they all know?”
“We don’t keep secrets from each other,” he rasps, looking conflicted. “Why? Help me understand.”
All my secrets are out there. Good. “I’m not torturing them.” His eyes are full of disbelief. “I’m reminding them. Every single thing I do to them, they did to her first. It wasn’t enough for them to steal her life. They beat her, raped her, forced her to have a baby, and stole her organs. And the icing on the cake: they left her in the desert for the vultures to feed off,” I spit out, my teeth bared in fury. “Now that I think about it, they’re getting the better end of the deal. I should really find a way to up my game.”
His eyes close, and when they open, I see a glimmer of understanding and deep, deep sorrow. “I’m sorry. So, so sorry.” Broad shoulders bend under the knowledge I’ve been carrying around for three years.
I’m done talking. Spinning around, I turn to open the door and see the other three standing on the sidewalk behind us, anger pouring off them. I tense, but their eyes are on the man behind me. I leave them to deal with each other.
Five flights of stairs give me time to cool and gain some perspective. It would be so easy to be furious with Zane, but I can’t. I understand him too well. I used to be him. Always doing what’s right and good.
Now that I think about it, I was worse than him. I had zero empathy for those who took the law into their own hands. It was wrong. Period. I would have viewed Zane with contempt and seen him as nothing but a man willing to bend the law to fit his purpose, even if that purpose was to rescue others.
Surprisingly, I don’t feel contempt coming from him. Worry, frustration, a need to understand why I’m set on this path, but overall, I think he doesn’t want me to cross the line of no return.
Zane is fine with breaking the law, even killing someone, but in his mind, torture is a tool used by only the worst of the worst—the terrorists, drug lords, and other predators. Those without a conscience.
For me, there is no line I won’t cross for Sophia. I raised her. She was mine to love and protect. Now, all I can do is make sure she finds peace so she can go to heaven like the rest of my family.
Weary, I stumble over to the couch and lie down. I close my eyes, needing to truly escape the world for a while. If I’m lucky, I’ll catch a couple of hours of sleep before the mission tonight.
19
QUINN
The low murmur of voices wakes me. All four men, dressed in black fatigues and combat boots, are loading and strapping weapons to their bodies. The 3D model is live on the table giving them a visual reference to check.
I sit up and stretch. Grabbing my backpack, I head to the bathroom to clean up and get changed. Not one of them says a word when I pass.
The mirror has plenty to say. My hair is windblown and wild, and my face is stained with dirt, but all that is fixable. The lines of sadness and grief on my face are a different story. I’m thirty-three going on fifty according to this mirror.
Averting my eyes, I concentrate on getting mission ready. Unlike the guys, I’m only wearing the black camouflage pants. The jacket is too bulky and hinders my ability to fight. Pairing it with a skimming long sleeve bodysuit gives me the room I need to move. Lastly, I add black boots. I swiftly French braid my hair and tuck the end into my shirt to keep it out of the way.
Next, I pack my body with weapons and supplies, add the tracker to my boot strap, and put my phone into an inside zip pocket.
The mirror reflects a competent, combat-ready woman. A badass. I grin and stride out, full of confidence.
They’ve already taken the rest of my stuff to the new place. “Here’s my pack. Is it okay to leave it in the car, or should I leave it here?” I ask Sterling.
His sharp green eyes search mine. “If there’s anything identifiable, leave it here.”
“There’s nothing. I’ll leave it in the car,” I inform him, glancing at the watch on my wrist. It’s one of the few times I wear it. “What time does everyone have?”
“One forty-seven,” Cruz returns. “You don’t have to go, you know.”
