“Bring her home.” It wasn’t a request.
I glanced over my shoulder, meeting his eyes one last time. “I won’t stop until I do, and then, they’re all dead.”
Pound.Whack. Pound.
The sound of leather meeting flesh bounced off the walls, each impact reverberating through the home gym. My knuckles had gone numb twenty minutes ago, but I kept driving my fists into the heavy bag, the chain above creaking and groaning under the assault.
Sweat poured down my spine in rivulets, and salt stung my eyes,but I didn’t stop to wipe it away. Right hook. Left cross. Right uppercut that made the bag swing on its mount like a pendulum marking time I didn’t have.
I wasn’t counting reps anymore. Wasn’t following any training regimen or workout plan. I was burning each strike, working through scenarios where each punch was a different way to make Rusty pay for what he’d done. The pain felt good, cleaner than the rage churning in my gut.
Brock’s personal home gym housed state-of-the-art equipment on rubber flooring. Mirrors covered three walls, reflecting my movements in endless repetition, while the fourth wall was pure floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking manicured grounds currently still being patrolled by Evan.
This place was a fortress. Motion sensors and cameras monitored every inch of the exterior. Dare I say the equipment was better than what we had at the Willows Estate. Brock agreed to let my brothers and me stay at his house until we found Kaylor, his place providing the kind of privacy and protection we needed, not just from Rusty but from my father.
I couldn’t trust him. Not with this. Not with Kaylor.
I threw another punch, harder this time, putting my full weight behind it just as my phone buzzed against the leather bench behind me. The persistent vibrations cut through my focus. I stalked over and snatched the device up with sweat-slick fingers.
Dad.
Of course, because my life wasn’t complicated enough without him inserting himself into the middle of a crisis.
I thumbed open the text, squinting at the screen.
Where the hell are you?
School called. Said you and your brothers missed classes again.
We need to talk. Come home immediately.
Bring Maddox and Mason.
I stared at the messages, feeling my upper lip curl into a snarl.The words blurred slightly as sweat dripped from my hairline onto the screen. “Go to hell,” I muttered, right before I cocked my arm back and hurled the phone across the room. It sailed through the air in a perfect arc before bouncing off the rubber flooring with a satisfying crack, skittering under a weight rack where it came to rest against a forty-five-pound plate.
The screen went dark.
That might not have been the smartest decision. If Kaylor tried to call or, hell, if Rusty tried to send another message… Shit. I’d have to get Evan to get me another phone.
“Do I even want to know who has the audacity to piss you off at a time like this?” Raine’s voice carried a mixture of amusement and bone-deep exhaustion as he leaned against the door frame, one shoulder pressed to the metal while his arms crossed over his chest.
“Just Daddy Dearest,” I said, grabbing a white towel from the bench and dragging it across my face. The terry cloth came away dark with sweat and traces of blood from where I’d split my knuckles.
“Should’ve guessed.” He pushed off from the door frame and walked into the gym. “You ever think about telling him what’s actually going on? About Kaylor?”
“Not a chance in hell.” The words came out sharper than I’d intended, but I didn’t soften them. Some truths were too dangerous to share, even with family.
“You really don’t trust him.” It wasn’t a question, more like an observation delivered with the understanding of someone who’d watched this family dysfunction play out for years.
“Would you?” I shot back, turning to face him fully. “He was working with Rusty, whatever the fuck you want to call it. Who’s to say he isn’t bankrolling this whole underground shit show? Might be funding the trafficking ring as a side hustle.”
Raine exhaled slowly, a sound that seemed to deflate him slightly as he sat down on the bench press. “Well, in other news,” he said, fishing his phone from his back pocket. “I’ve got something that might actually matter.”
My shoulders went rigid, every muscle in my body tensing. “Yeah?”
“The auction.”
I gave him my complete attention for the first time since he’d entered the room. “You found it?”
