I had a couple of non-negotiables when my pack and I talked in-depth about Brody. First, I would be seeing him without anyone else in the room. Second, when the time came, I wanted his death to be quick.
My pack had a couple stipulations of their own. We would go as a pack; they would accompany me every step of the way. When I was with Brody, the door needed to stayopen. And one of my Alphas would be tasked with killing him.
It was also something that would happen soon, and of course they acted on that. Delivering what I asked within a day.
When they open the door, their sombre mood matches mine. There’s no joy in taking a person’s life. Most certainly putting a bullet through his brain will end the threat he represents, but it won’t ever bring peace to my heart. Nothing is going to erase our tragic and painful past. The scars he’d left behind would forever be a part of me. What would bring me some kind of peace however was knowing he’d never hurt another person.
Hendrix holds my hand, ignoring how I nearly break his fingers as I squeeze the dear life out of them. Dominic leads us to the entrance of the room, which strangely looks a lot like the cell from my nightmare—concrete walls, nothing descript, dark and dank, full of stale air, and Brody tied to the chair.
“You stupid fucking bitch!” he laughs maniacally once he sees me. He throws his head back and roars, “I FORBID YOU”.
Once he starts, he doesn’t stop screaming—the screams echo and ricochet off the walls, the noise somehow growing louder with each repetition. Every time he runs out of breath, he gulps in air and continues his yelling.
He doesn’t see what I’m about to do until it is too late.
I unload the entire canister spray of Duratious in his face.
I seriously never thought I’d need to use the small, but incredibly powerful spray Heidi gave me. But exactly like Verdune promises, the spray instantly rips Brody’s designation, leaving him mute and locked in the same state he forced me into every time he barked my way.
The only noise now is his heavy breathing and the hammering of my heart.
Warmth spreads through my pack bond, a message of support. I turn, finding them exactly where I left them. Loving me from a distance even though I can see how desperate they are to be here beside me.
Brody makes an odd gurgling sound, and I turn back to him. All the words I was going to say become no longer necessary. Why would I give him anything else after he has taken so much?
And I wish I could say that seeing fear creep over him—realizing this is where his reign of terror ends—gives me something. But it doesn’t. It only adds to the burden I’ll carry forever. That doesn’t mean I’ll change my mind; it just means his grief serves no purpose to me.
I doubt even a minute has passed as I stare at him, but it’s enough.
Walking back to my pack, I move straight into Ryder’s arms, needing his blazing energy and his affinity to infuse my soul with raw energy and happiness. He squeezes me tight, peppering kisses all over my face, anywhere he can reach.
I expected him to turn us, to walk me back to where we parked the Range Rover, but he doesn’t. He wraps his hands around my face, drops his forehead to mine, and blows a long, steady exhale of his honey-dipped scent into my face.
Then his arms fall away, and he steps backwards.
“Go, Sin. Dominic will take you up now. Hendrix is going to wait for me.”
My legs feel like they will give out, and agony rips the air from my lungs as I realise he’s going to be the one to do it. Ryder. The man with a deep, pure soul—who radiates sunshine warmer than the sun—is going to pull the trigger. He is changing himself forever. For me.
Dominic reads my distress and scoops me into his arms.As he holds me close, my legs wrap around his waist, and I bury my face against his chest, howling through the ache in my heart. His voice is a steady mantra, repeating over and over what I need to hear: that Ryder will be the same Ryder when he comes back to me.
I want to believe him.
I honestly do.
RYDER
Brody’s body stayed uncollected and exactly where we left it for weeks.
We didn’t get anything—no correspondence from lawyers, no midnight threatening calls promising retribution, no raids by dodgy police. Nothing at all. Because the Family fucking knew we’d given him a chance.
His death was on him and him alone.
That’s not to say we were going to naively believe the founding family were done with Simona. Hopefully they were. Either way, we’d be ready for them, and we’d do whatever we needed to ensure Sin’s freedom.
Nothing would tie her down anymore.
Unless of course she was centre stage at Noire, naked as the day she was born, and spread over a spanking bench.
