Page 1 of Wreaking Havoc on my Heart

Prologue

4 years ago

I can feel my hands going numb. The metal shackles holding me suspended are really unforgiving when it comes to nerve damage. Although I have to admit, when I’m torturing someone, their comfort isn’t really my priority, either.

This idiot has already given me everything I need, and E is less than five seconds away from breaking down the doors to rescue me. She’s the only one I wanted on this mission anyway. She's the only one I could trust with my family’s information.

Right on time, the door breaks down and a silver-haired spitfire makes her way to the asshat that tied me up here like an amateur.Is it really so much to ask men to learn a little class when torturing someone?

His blood is still spraying at my feet as Evie pulls the lever to let me loose. I grin at her, but the usual maniac smile we share when we wrap up a job like this is nowhere to be seen.

“We need to go,” she says, real worry in her tone. She’s never concerned like this; she’s always one step ahead. Her sudden change has the hair on the back of my neck standing up.

“What is it, E?”

“Vi—she didn’t send me a message at the hour mark. I can’t get into the cameras at your house either.”

My wife, Vi or Vinny, has been struggling with depression since we lost our daughter to cancer a month ago. She’s been turning to drugs and getting involved with some not-so-great people. And if I think they aren’t so great, that’s saying something.

“Did the cameras get cut off, or were they turned off?” E shakes her head.

“I don’t know.”

Fuck.

I’m already at the door before I have a chance to call for the cleanup crew. Normally, I’d do it myself, but not when my wife’s safety is on the line.

E throws the keys to her stolen vehicle at me as we round the side of the warehouse. The only reason I took this job was because it wasn’t far from the house. I was able to have E keep an eye on Vi outside while I got the information we needed inside. It only took three hours, so if something went wrong it means someone had eyes on the house before today.

Fuck . Fuck. Fuck.

I slam the door to the car as we get in and E buckles in, knowing this is going to be a bumpy ride. The warehouse is situated back in the woods at the base of a mountain and is only accessible through a path in the dirt. The jeep she stole may be equipped to handle the terrain, but it doesn’t make it comfortable.

Once out on the mountain roads, I take the turns at a fast pace, making E grab onto the oh shit handle more than a few times. I’m not worried anyone could be following us, the marks crew was small enough that E could take them all out while I was busy with their leader as he ‘tortured’ me. If you could even really call it that.

As we get closer to the house, I keep glancing at E as she types on her computer. My unease only heightens when she’s unable to hack back into my security system that’s apparently been hijacked. She’s one of the best at this, trained by our very own. If she can’t get in, then someone must have disabled everything and shut off the power to the house and the backup generators.

Her silence stretches out, making the air around us grow thick with anxiety. That’s how I know it’s bad. If she’s not talking—if we aren’t both making an effort to help each other's lives feel less like shit, then a real storm is coming.

I skid into the driveway, the wheels sliding on the gravel in front of the house. Our seatbelts dig into our necks, but E doesn’t complain and I refuse to acknowledge discomfort right now.

My heart is racing as I open my door and run to the house. The front is full of large glass windows, and I immediately fall to my knees before I can even enter the door. E has her gun ready, a blade in hand as she enters ahead of me. My vision blurs and I swear my lungs turn to dust. There’s blood streaking the windows, dripping down to look like something out of a Halloween Horror film and not my actual reality. My brain threatens to shut down in shock, and for a moment I actually black out.

Losing our daughter was hard. The pain of seeing her so sick for so long hurt just as much as the agony of losing her. I was able to find ways to cope and heal, but my wife wasn’t so fortunate.

She was the one who spent every day in the hospital with Ellie while I worked. When we lost her, it was like my wife died that day too. Vi always had this spark about her. She was literally running through a field of flowers when we met. I thought she was a figment of my imagination from how angelic she looked in that moment.

Vi floated through life with an air about her that made every bad feeling in my chest melt away. She was the reason I could do this job in the first place. I killed her father, who had been abusing her since she was just a small child, and her world seemed to open up before both our eyes after that moment.

When we lost Ellie, though, it was like the Vi I knew disappeared. Her eyes were constantly filled with a darkness I didn’t know was possible. She would sit in Ellie’s room and stare out the window for hours. Permanent dark circles formed on her face and I watched as she became a shell of a person.

She stopped doing anything for herself, and I coped in my own way by disappearing into my work. I wasn’t there for her. So, I wasn’t surprised when she turned to drugs, even though it broke my heart even more. I couldn’t be around to see them ruin her the same way the cancer seemed to ruin Ellie.

My heart constricts remembering the day our daughter was born. Flashes of all the good times fly through my head like a movie. Their smiles, their matching flower dresses, their laughter. I already know I’ll never hear it again.

I watch as E enters the house. I already know what she’s going to find but still look up with hope in my eyes when she comes out to my side. Maybe the scene isn’t as bad as it looks from the outside. Maybe Vi fought back and she’s in there just fine.

But I know I’m grasping at straws when E kneels next to me. One thing E and I rarely do is share physical touch with each other, and we are never gentle. I don’t want anything to look like I’m interested in her because I don’t want any other man thinking they can do the same. Besides, neither of us needs to be gentle. We need ruthless honesty. We need to get our hurt out so we don’t hurt each other. So, when she takes my hand in hers and squeezes it, I fully black out.

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