“Shade, don’t fucking play with me. Location! Now!”
“Fuck!” He hissed. “I’m about to send it to you. We’ll meet you there.”
“Thank you.”
I ended the call without another word.
The sun was long gone.Darkness pressed down like a weight as I parked in the empty lot by the abandoned warehouse and water. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the distant lapping of waves.
I stepped out of the car, shoes hitting the cracked pavement.
I walked to the trunk and swung it open. There he was. Tied up, taped mouth, that smug little bitch thinking this was going to be easy. My gun raised immediately, the barrel steady, my hand trembling not from fear but from the fury coursing through me.
I loomed over him, letting the anger settle into my words. “You know what, Waylon? I could shoot you right here, rightnow. Put you six feet under and be done with it. But nah…I refuse to let you get off that easy.” My jaw tightened. “You’re going to pay for what you did to Skye, and for the disrespect to the man who raised you.”
He blinked through the tape, fear finally creeping into his eyes, but I wasn’t letting him off. I yanked him from the trunk, shoving him to his knees on the cold, cracked asphalt.
I ripped the tape from his mouth, and immediately, he started begging. “Please! I didn’t?—”
I cut him off. “Shut the fuck up. I don’t want to hear that bullshit. You’re going to feel every bit of the pain and fear you tried to put into someone else’s life.”
I struck him across the jaw with the butt of my pistol. His head snapped back, a strangled cry escaping him. I swung again, my fury pouring into each hit, the sound of my anger echoing off the empty lot. His face started to crumble under the blows, blood mixing with sweat, pain twisting his features. I wasn’t stopping. I couldn’t stop. This was justice, raw and unfiltered, the kind only I could deliver.
“Do you hear me?” I yelled, each word cutting through the night. “This is what you get! This is what happens when you hurt people that don’t deserve to be hurt!”
He whimpered, begged, spat blood at my shoes, but I didn’t even flinch.
And just as my pistol connected again, Shade and Trace moved closer, stepping away from where they’d been watching from afar.
“Alright, man, chill,” Shade said.
Trace just smirked, hands on his hips, surveying the damage. “Damn, Ocean,” he said with an amused grin. “You didn’t hold back, huh?”
I stepped back, letting my chest heave as Waylon gulped for air, relieved in a way that almost made me laugh. I did laugh, though it came out cold.
“You think this is mercy?” I asked, pointing my gun at him. “You think they’re here to save your ass? Hell nah. This is just a taste. A fucking taste.”
Shade chuckled and Trace leaned against the trunk, shaking his head in disbelief.
I looked down at Waylon, my chest heaving, rage simmering into cold fury, letting him see the full weight of it. “Next time you want to hurt someone, remember this night. Remember who decides justice. Remember that nobody, and I mean nobody, touches my people and walks away.”
His face was a mess, pride shattered, fear written across every line. I could smell the remnants of his boldness fading, replaced by pure terror. And I let him sit there, kneeling, bleeding, broken, knowing that he’d carry this night with him for the rest of his life.
Shade put a hand on my shoulder, steadying me, but I could still feel the tension in my body, the anger brushing beneath the surface. I took a deep breath, lowering my gun slowly, letting the silence hang heavy.
“You better hope I never catch you in a hallway, in a crowd, or anywhere in this city,” I said, quietly. “Because if I do…next time, my brother won’t be there to hold me back. And you won’t be lucky enough to beg.”
He whimpered again, trying to crawl back, but Shade gave him a sharp kick. Trace just shook his head, still smirking.
I turned back to the car, gripping my gun tight for a second longer before tucking it into my waistband. My hands were trembling, but not with fear. With anger. With satisfaction. With a promise made to the only person that mattered…Skye.
And I swore under my breath, that if anyone ever tried to touch her again, they wouldn’t get off even half as easy.
53
SKYE
I hadn’t slept a wink. The whole condo felt too quiet, too still, like it was holding its breath, waiting for something else to break me wide open. I was curled up in an oversized blanket, clutching it like a lifeline, still trembling from everything that had gone down. My stomach twisted every time I thought about last night, about Waylon, about Ocean going after him. The anger I knew he carried had to be worse than anything I could imagine.
