Seth’s jaw clenched. His hand didn’t waver. But he didn’t pull the trigger.
Yet.
He’d spent four fucking days torturing Silas Nichols, the assassin Gene hired to murder Autumn and Tristan. Four days of extracting every scrap of information, every name, every detail, except the one he needed most—before he’d finally let the bastard die.
Gene deserved all that and worse.
Seth’s gaze flicked to Heavenly—pale, shaken, but alive. Then to his mother, tears streaming down her face.
Both women had been seconds from execution.
Hudson had thrown himself at a killer to save them.
Gene had been willing to murder them all. To take everything Seth had fought to rebuild.
Gene needed to pay.
Seth’s gaze flicked to Nik. The Russian’s expression said he understood. That he’d give Seth whatever time he needed. Whatever tools he required.
“Seth.” Matt’s voice cut through the silence, tight and controlled. “What do you want to do?”
He stared down at Gene, the man who’d played the role of family friend for two decades while building his empire on blood and lies.
Seth’s hand didn’t shake. His voice was cold. Final.
Seth straightened slowly, his gun still trained on Gene’s skull. His hand was steady. His breathing had evened out. The red haze of fury was still there, but it had cooled into something harder. Colder.
“Nik, stay with this son of a bitch, will you?”
Nikolai’s grip on his weapon tightened. “He goes nowhere.”
“Matt?” Seth asked.
“On it.” Matt kept his gun pressed to Gene’s temple, stare locked on the bastard.
Gene lay, back flat against the hardwood, his breathing labored. He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Just glared.
But he was defeated, and his face said he knew it.
Good.
Seth refused to give the son of a bitch more of his energy right now. The people he loved needed him, starting with his son.
Hudson stood frozen a few feet away, chest heaving, eyes wild. Heavenly had curled an arm around him in a motherly gesture, whispering soft assurances as tears streamed down her face. His mother held Heavenly’s other hand, face ashen with shock.
They were alive. All of them.
Seth was so fucking grateful.
But the terror had taken its toll on them.
Beck stumbled through the splintered frame of the front door, pale and stoic, one hand pressed to his bloody shoulder. His jaw was tight with pain he refused to voice.
Heavenly gasped. “Beck!”
She ran to him, her shaking hands fluttering over his wound. “Oh, my god, you’re still bleeding. Let me?—“
“I’m fine.” Beck’s voice was rough as he wrapped his good arm around her waist and pulled her against his blood-soaked chest.
