Page 35 of Savage Sin

He pauses. I know he is reliving the moment, so I wait, instead of voicing my questions, of which I have many.

“He had no remorse about throwing away my siblings. They were birthed from whores and of lesser blood, he explained as we rode out into the countryside. It was a rainy day. I thought we were going on the hunting trip my father always promised to take me on. Only I had no idea the prey would be human beings.”

I gasp, shocked at the depravity. Tears for the boy Rage was and what he lived through finally unlock to sting my eyes.

He watches me for several seconds. When he reaches out and wipes at a tear with the pad of his thumb, his gentleness surprises me. But his words break my heart.

“Don’t cry for the monster in me. I’m not worthy of them or the sorrow shining in your eyes.”

His voice is calm, like he’s accepted his fate. I should be scared shitless. The thing is, I’m not. At least not anymore.

“I cry for the little boy who needed someone so badly to be on his side.”

My eyes focus on the scars scattered over his back as he continues. I understand what abuse is and to see another person beaten down by someone else’s depravity and cruelty breaks me in ways I don’t know how to express.

“I could not kill the mother with the baby she clutched to her chest. A boy. He predicted as much, so my father did it for me.”

“And the baby?” I shutter my eyes, but my heart bleeds.

“Before he could kill my half-brother, I jerked him out of the dead mother’s hands and swore I would raise the child into someone my father would be proud of.”

I hear what he doesn’t say. He doesn’t say he didn’t kill any of the women. Only he couldn’t kill the one holding the baby.

“Rage, how many of your father’s mistresses did you kill?”

“All remaining seven. It was the cost of saving the baby.” His voice grows distant, pained. “He pulled them from the home he provided for them and on my sixteenth birthday, I killed seven innocent women.” Tears roll down his checks and he does nothing to brush them away.

Dear God. I swallow back my own tears in an effort to stay calm, but my heart and soul bleed for the man at my side. I grew up in a harsh world. My mother was the obedient servant while my father reigned with an iron fist. No one demanded anything of him and lived. It’s why I find his mother being the controlling one of their union so unique. For our world, anyway. But the evil he suffered goes beyond anything I ever endured. Not even Joaquin’s torture to my body reaches the depravity of this man’s father.

“Rage,” I start, but my words die off. There’s nothing I can say or do, and I doubt he wants my sympathy. “Where is he now? Your brother?” I think I know the answer, but ask anyway.

He reaches out and traces the line of my chin. “Dead,” he says flatly, and then drops his hand away. He pulls out a fresh cigarette and lights up. After blowing the smoke above our heads, his eyes meet mine again. “After we put them in the ground, I got addicted to Euphoria because I could not live with seeing their faces in my nightmares.” He pulls out the black baggie from his pocket and holds it up. “And now it’s followed me across the ocean and into my backyard.”

I lay there as the puzzle pieces fall together. Before my father died, he had suspicions of a mole. Joaquin carried that paranoia into his reign. There was a lot of bloodshed until there were nearly no enforcers left. He had to bring in fresh blood.

Now I understand why Rage is hell bent on avenging his brother and why he thinks I’m the key. This man wants blood for blood.

He dumps the pills into his hand and pushes them around. Him getting high doesn’t bode well for me. And the compassionate human in me sees the torture on his face.

“Rage, look at me. Talk to me more. How did your brother get tangled up with my family?”

“I haven’t been this close to Euphoria in a while. Not alone anyway.”

“You’re not alone. I’m here and I see you. Think of your brother.”

A long silence falls over us. Addiction isn’t something I’ve ever dealt with before, but I can see this man needs help and I am not the kind of person to turn away.

“You’re strong, Rage. You don’t need those. Talk to me.”

One by one, he puts the pills back in the baggie.

“You’re too kind to be a part of my world.”

The back of his knuckles are rough over my cheek, like the man they belong to.

“Growing up, my brother saw me fight my addiction. I got sober enough and with the help of a friend, we came stateside. He became a DEA agent, and I became a Savage. I pushed him off on a good family that would finish raising him right, but he never forgot.”

“Joaquin killed your brother.” I fill in for him. “You sacrificed a lot to save his life, and my family ended up killing him.”

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