Page 20 of Reaper's Justice
Reaper considers this, his profile sharp against the afternoon light streaming through the window. "You already showed her that by standing free while she's in chains."
"It's not enough." I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the warmth in the van. "You wouldn't understand."
"Wouldn't I?" There's something dangerous in his quiet tone. "You think I don't know what it's like to want someone to pay for what they've done? To need them to look you in the eye and know they failed to destroy you?"
I turn to look at him, and can’t help but notice the scars visible on his knuckles, the hard set of his jaw, the shadows behind his eyes that speak of violence both endured and inflicted.
"You can observe," he says finally. "But you don't participate. And if I tell you to leave, you leave. No arguments."
It's more than I expected. "Thank you."
He nods once, turning his attention back to the road ahead. We're approaching the compound, the gate visible in the distance.
"The other girls," I say. "Can I see them again? Help them understand what's happening?"
"If you want."
"I do." I hesitate, then add, "I know what they're feeling. The fear doesn't just disappear because you're physically free."
"No. It doesn't." He says.
The compound comes alive as we arrive, men moving with purpose as the vehicles pull in. The SUV continues through, heading elsewhere, to the safe house with the rescued girls, I assume.
Our van stops in the central courtyard. Blade and Viper drag our captives from the back, none too gently. Naomi stumbles, and I feel a flash of satisfaction that I immediately try to suppress. This isn't me. I'm not cruel. I'm not like them.
But maybe, a small voice whispers, maybe you need to be a little cruel to survive in this world.
Reaper's hand hovers near my elbow as I exit the van, not touching me but ready to steady me if needed. It's a small courtesy that I've noticed repeatedly. He never touches me without warning or necessity.
"They go to the shed," he tells Blade. "Separate them. Start with the suit. Ghost will join you."
Blade nods, dragging the well-dressed man away. Viper follows with the second man, while another club member takes Naomi, who struggles futilely against her restraints.
"Come inside," Reaper says to me. "You need to eat something before we continue."
I follow him into the clubhouse, aware of the stares from other members. News travels fast. They all seem to know who I am, or at least what I represent. A complication. An anomaly. The president's... what? Rescue? Responsibility? I'm not sure what I am to him, or what he is to me beyond an unlikely savior.
The main room is quieter than before, most members having gone with the rescue operation or on other business. Reaperleads me to the kitchen area, gesturing for me to sit at a small table while he opens the refrigerator.
"Sandwich okay?" he asks, already pulling out bread and cold cuts.
"Yes. Thank you." The politeness feels absurd given the circumstances, but habits die hard.
He works efficiently, making two sandwiches without asking what I want on mine. When he sets the plate before me, I'm surprised to see it's exactly what I would have chosen—turkey, no cheese, extra tomato.
"How did you know?" I ask, genuinely curious.
"Observed what you ate yesterday," he replies with a shrug, taking the seat across from me. "Pay attention to details."
We eat in silence for a few minutes, the events of the day settling over us like a heavy blanket.
"The girls," I say finally. "Will they really be safe?"
"Yes." His tone leaves no room for doubt. "My club has resources. Connections. They'll get whatever they need. Medical care, counseling, new identities if necessary."
"Why? I’m sorry, but I still don’t get it. What do you get out of it?"
He sets down his sandwich, meeting my gaze directly. "Not everything is a transaction, Evelyn."
