Sometimes, justice needs more than proper channels.Sometimes, it needs someone willing to break the rules to make things right.
And as we pull away from the hospital, away from my shattered career and toward the unlikely sanctuary of the Devil Souls’ clubhouse, I find myself thinking that perhaps Zach’s world makes more sense than I’ve given it credit for.
The wind whips around us as we speed through town, and I hold on tighter, my chest pressed against Zach’s back.For the first time in my life, I understand the appeal of taking justice into your own hands.
* * *
Zach
I watch Xavier’s face through the side mirrors as he holds on to me during the ride, the wind whipping around us.His expression is a mixture of shock, anger, and something deeper, a profound hurt that makes my blood boil.This isn’t just about a job.This is about his identity, his purpose, everything he’s worked hard for.And that bitch Alex took it from him with a lie.
The more I think about it, the colder my rage becomes.By the time we reach the clubhouse, I’ve made my decision.Xavier needs to speak with the lawyer, get the legal wheels turning.But there’s another kind of justice that needs handling first.
“Go inside,” I tell him after we park, keeping my voice gentle despite the storm brewing inside me.“Grey’s waiting with the lawyer.Tell him everything.”
Xavier studies my face, those perceptive doctor’s eyes seeing more than I want him to.“Where are you going?”
“Just need to handle something,” I reply, deliberately vague.“Won’t be long.”
He hesitates, concern flickering across his features.“Zach… don’t do anything that’ll make this worse.”
I cup his face, thumb brushing his cheekbone.“Trust me.”
After he goes inside, I pull out my phone and make a quick call to Tiana.“Need an address,” I say without preamble.“Alex Donovan.Where she lives.”
“Why?”Tiana asks, instantly suspicious.
“Just get it for me.”My tone leaves no room for argument.
She sighs, but doesn’t push.“Give me five minutes.”
While I wait, I check my weapon, tucking it securely in my waistband.The weight of it is familiar, comforting in its deadly promise.My phone buzzes with an incoming text, an address in the suburban part of town, along with a note.
Husband’s name is Mark.Works from home.
Perfect.
Twenty minutes later, I’m pulling up to a tidy two-story house with flower boxes and a welcome mat.The picture of suburban respectability.I park down the street, approach on foot.A silver Audi sits in the driveway.Probably Mark’s.I circle around to the back, finding a sliding glass door that leads to a kitchen.
Through the glass, I can see a man in his early forties, wearing glasses and a button-down shirt, sitting at the kitchen table with a laptop.Mark.Working from home, just like Tiana said.
I test the door.Unlocked.These people have no idea what real danger looks like.
I slide it open silently and step inside, drawing my weapon in one smooth motion.Mark doesn’t notice me until I clear my throat, the barrel of my gun pointed directly at his head.
“Don’t scream,” I advise as his head jerks up, eyes widening in terror behind his glasses.“Don’t move.Just listen.”
“Take whatever you want,” he stammers, hands rising instinctively.“My wallet’s on the counter.Car keys too.”
“I’m not here to rob you,” I tell him, my voice eerily calm even to my own ears.“I’m here about your wife, Alex.”
Confusion joins the fear in his expression.“Alex?What about her?”
“Call her,” I order, gesturing with the gun.“Tell her to come home now.Say it’s an emergency.”
His hands shake as he reaches for his phone.I move closer, pressing the barrel against his temple to emphasize my point.“Nothing stupid.Don’t try to warn her.Just get her here.”
He nods frantically, dialing with trembling fingers.I listen as he tells her there’s a plumbing emergency, water everywhere, and that he needs her help immediately.She agrees to come right away.
