Chapter 36

My mouth feels like it's full of cotton and a thousand drums beat along the inside walls of my skull. As I lift my head and open my eyes, the brightness of the room blinds me, making my head pound harder.

I try to raise my arms, but they won't move. Dropping my chin to my chest, I stare down at the reason. I'm sitting in a chair with my arms pulled behind me. It's then that I feel the roughness of a rope around my wrists. My legs are also attached to the chair.

Memories of Jimmy in the kitchen, sitting beside Cat at the bar, flash through my mind. Soon after comes the revelation I made right before I blacked out.

Whisper.

This whole fucking time, he was right under our goddamn noses.

Lifting my groggy head, I survey the room. Our living room. And across from me only a few feet away is my wife. She's lying on her back on the coffee table. Her arms are pulled above her head with a rope wrapped securely around her wrists, which is attached to the legs of the table. Her body is pulled down to the other end until her butt nearly hangs off the edge. Her legs are spread and kept open with rope wrapped around the top by her knees all the way down to her ankles. Like her wrists, she's bound to the legs of the table. A piece of duct tape covers her mouth.

My only consolation is she still has her dress on. But how long will that last?

As if sensing my gaze, she turns her head. Her beautiful blue eyes are wide and filled with terror.

"It's okay, Cat," I say, my voice scratchy from whatever drug Whisper put in the bottle of merlot. I thank Christ that Cat didn't have any of it. "I'm going to get you out of here."

"It's not nice to lie to your wife, Hunter," a voice says off to my right. Jimmy or Whisper or whatever the fuck his name is, comes into view. "After all, Caterina is lying in her final resting place."

I tug on the ropes around my wrist to no avail. They're so tight it's damn near cutting off blood circulation.

"You're Whisper," I state needlessly. We've well past established that he is, but if I keep him talking it might buy me time to figure a way to get Cat and me out of this shit. "I underestimated you."

I move my gaze to the window, which faces the front of the house. The curtains are closed, meaning no one can see inside, including Damon.

Whisper grins and walks over to where Cat's lying. "You did." Cat whimpers and jerks against the rope when he touches her knee. He trails his fingers up her thigh, moving the dress upward. His head swings back to me. "I have to say, watching you this whole time, looking for me, seeing the life you have with Cat, witnessing the struggles she goes through, knowing there wasn't a damn thing you could do, gave me much more enjoyment than I thought it would."

"Get your filthy fucking hands off her," I growl. I don't look at Cat when her whimpers become muffled cries. If I do, I won't be able to keep my cool, and that's what I need to do right now.

"It's amusing that you demand I remove my hands like I'll actually do what you want. I'll be doing much more to Cat than this." He punctuates his words by grabbing her roughly between the legs and squeezes. Cat cries out behind the tape and wiggles on the table as she tries to get away from his touch. "She and I have unfinished business and it's well past time we complete it."

"What in the fuck are you talking about?" I grit out, yanking harder on my wrists and turning them raw.

Thankfully, he removes his hand as he answers. "The night I so deliciously took your beautiful daughter and cute little boy from you, your dear wife wasn't supposed to survive. She was to die right alongside them."

Warmth trickles down my fingers. "Then why pretend to save her?"

"Because I realized I could prolong your torture." He walks around the table and takes a seat on the couch, his position at the center of Cat's torso and putting him in my direct line of sight. "Because I wanted to watch you try and fix your beautiful Cat, and just when you thought you might succeed, I'd be there to snatch her from you again."

He grabs a lock of Cat's hair, rubbing it between his fingers. His eyes lift and meet mine. "And you know what's so damn delicious about that night?" I don't take the bait. He's going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not. "The fire at Slate—the reason you left the house." His lips twist into a sinister smile. "I staged it to get you away so me and my boys could spend hours with your precious little family."

The pressure in my head feels like it's going to explode at any moment.

"Why?" I snarl. "Why target my family? What in the hell have I ever done to you?"

He pulls out a knife from a sheath by his ankle. "You took everything from me," he says quietly, his gaze mesmerized by the blade in his hand. "You took everything away and left me with nothing."

"What are you talking about? I had no idea who you were until the night you and those bastards broke into my house."

His eyes lift, and for the first time since I met Jimmy, I know I'm finally seeing what he truly is. Hatred at its purest and deepest. A devious monster, filled to the brim with sick intentions. How did he hide himself so well from me?

"Oh, you know me. You know me really well actually. So well, in fact, that you should call us family."

My limbs lock, and I cease my struggles. I throw his words around in my head, trying to comprehend them. I'm unable to because what he's saying is too fucking absurd. I have no family. The only family I had, before they died when I was two, was my mother and father. That's what the reports say, at least.

A portion of the inheritance I received after turning eighteen was used to search for my family. Patrick and Summer St. James were my only two relatives. No other relatives were associated with those two names, which must have been a lie since they had to have come from somewhere. Despite my efforts or the money I handed over to private investigators, nothing could be found.

After a couple of years, I stopped looking because it didn't really matter. I didn't need to know my background. It had no impact on where I was going.

I sit there and stare at Whisper, my expression blank and keeping my mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction of my curiosity.

The bastard chuckles when I continue to keep silent after several minutes.

"You can try and hide it, but I see your interest, Hunter. I've been watching you a lot longer than five years and know every little detail there is to know about you. Including your facial expressions." He places the tip of his blade on the hollow of Cat's neck. She sucks in a breath and holds it. "Like right now, you're imagining taking this knife," he moves the tip down her neck, "and jamming it down my throat." His lips curve into a cruel smile. "Am I right?"

Pretty fucking close, but not quite. I'd first use it to cut off his dick and shove that down his throat before forcing the blade down afterward.

"Anyway," he says as he uses the knife to pick up one of the straps on Cat's dress. "Back to what I was saying before. You believe Patrick and Summer St. James were your parents, but they were fictitious." He flicks his wrist and the strap easily cuts in two. I clench my jaw, my teeth nearly snapping at the pressure. He does the same to the other strap. "Created by our parents, Nicholas and Teresa Monroe."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?" I grind out.

I keep my eyes on his, but in my peripheral vision, I see him slowly begin sawing Cat's dress down the middle. Behind me, my hands are slick with blood as I continue to try to loosen the ropes.

"I have birth records."

"Those can be forged, just as you implied the same with Patrick and Summer St. James."

"And pictures," he continues as if knowing what I was going to say. He looks up, his eyes moving to my right forearm. "You have a birthmark on your right arm in the shape of a dragonfly."

He sets the knife down on Cat's stomach and pulls up the sleeve of his dress shirt, showing the exact same birthmark on his left arm. I've never seen that mark on another person, and the chances of it being on someone else are damn near impossible. Unless we're related.

"Who in the fuck are you?" I growl.

"Your big brother," he answers.

"Why was it hidden where I came from?"

"Because our father dabbled in shit that wasn't legal. He was part of the Chicago mafia. He set it up so that if anything ever happened to him, his wife and children would be given new identities. He didn't want anyone coming after his family. The same was set up if only his children survived."

I file that information away for later.

"This still doesn't explain why you targeted my family. I was two years old when they died. How in the fuck could I have stolen anything from you?"

"I'm getting to that," he replies. "But first, I want to refresh my memory of the handy work my boys left on this beautiful body." He pulls the two pieces of the dress apart, exposing Cat's torso. There are six scars on her stomach and chest and he traces every one with his fingers, looking at them with glee and sick pleasure in his eyes. "A work of art, if I do say so myself."

My blood boils, heating me from the inside out. Rage surges through me and my arms tense, the sockets in my shoulders threatening to pop as I struggle against the ropes binding me. Cat squeezes her eyes closed, a whimper slipping through the tape. When she turns her head toward me, her face is red and her eyelids slide open. For a moment, I stare into her eyes before moving my gaze to Whisper.

"When I get free—and I will, one way or another—I'm going to kill you slowly."

His eyes lift to mine and one side of his mouth curves up. "That'll be a neat trick, considering your current lack of control of the situation."

"Remove your fucking hands from my wife or you'll lose them."

I need to calm my shit if I have any hope of getting Cat out of this. I've failed her once. Doing so again is not an option.

"I believe I like them where they are," he taunts. "Actually, that's wrong. I like them better right here." He yanks the cup of her bra down on one side and wraps his filthy hand around her breast. He squeezes it so hard, the parts that stick out between his fingers are red. Cat screams and thrashes against the table.

"Jimmy!" I roar, jerking and pulling, but all it does is dig the rope further into my skin. Maybe if the rope digs in far enough, it'll loosen enough for me to slip free.

He lets Cat's breast go and she stops moving, her eyes still pinned on me.

"Actually, my name is Nico, named after dear old Dad. I was the apple of both of our parents' eyes." The look on his face turns to loathing. "Until the day you were born. I was six. The moment they brought you home, you became their new favorite. I hated you from the moment I saw the way they looked at you. I tried and tried to regain their attention, but it was always you they flocked to."

"I was a fucking baby."

He leans over Cat and yells. "It didn't fucking matter!" His eyes flare and he takes a deep breath, seeming to calm himself. "They were my parents first and you got in the way."

He picks up the knife again and moves the tip down Cat's stomach. She stops breathing, too afraid to move in fear it might sink inside. He slips it underneath the band of her panties and easily slices it down the center of the silk material.

Jimmy continues talking as he watches his handy work. "I used to slip into your room at night and drag a stool over to your crib. I'd watch you sleep and pray you'd never wake up, but every fucking morning, you'd wake the house with your cries." His lips curl in disgust. "One night, I decided I was done praying and would take care of it myself. Mom caught me right as I shoved the pillow over your face. They never trusted me around you after that, but it didn't stop me from trying a few other ways to get rid of you. I put bleach in your bottle once, but Mom smelled it before you had any. And there was one time, right after your first birthday, you managed to climb out of your crib. You were in the hallway, wobbling toward the stairs. As your helpful big brother, I was going to help you down them, but the stupid nanny found you first."

I'm not even listening to what he says. My sole focus is on what he's doing to Cat.

My body vibrates in the chair, my chest pumping, and sweat coats my skin. Cat's panties have been cut away and the bastard uses the flat part of the knife to press it against her pussy. How in the fuck he hasn't cut her already, I don't know.

"The scar you have on your thigh, right above your knee. That happened when I pushed you down on a fork I purposely placed on the floor. You were supposed to land on your fucking head so the tines punctured your skull, but I was still an amateur killer at the time." He shrugs.

"What do you want, Nico?" I ask, using his real name. Everything he's told me so far could be lies. Even the birthmark on his arm and the scar on my thigh could have been fabricated. But deep down, I know it's all true. This man may be unhinged, but he's smart. Too smart to not have all the facts. "Leave my wife out of this, and I'll give you whatever the fuck you want. Money? Me dead. Whatever, you can have it."

From the corner of my eye, I see Cat's eyes widen with panic at my words.

"You think I want your money?" he asks with laughter in his eyes. "I've got plenty of my own. There's something you don't know about me, Hunter. I'm smart. Really fucking smart. So smart I was able to break into one of the most prestigious IT colleges in the nation and give myself a free pass through college. After I graduated, I started my own company with the money I had filtered off one business after another. Can you guess the name of the company?"

My gaze is flat as I stare at him without answering.

"Monroe Security."

Motherfucker.

So that's how he's been breaking into our house without setting off the alarm.

"So what I want is more than you're willing to give," he says, while I still process what he just revealed. "Which is why you'll sit there and watch me take it from you. I thought your kitty Cat was the last thing you had to offer. But then you gifted me with the pleasure of knowing you may have another little one on the way." His grin is pure evil. "Isn't it fucking grand that I can take another child from you before it's even born?"

He presses harder on the knife and this time it does cut into Cat. She screams, the sound, even through the tape, is ear-piercing.

"Goddamn it!" I roar. "Fucking stop!"

The bastard laughs. "I wonder how long I can fuck her with a knife before she bleeds out."

Cat screams louder, and I become frantic, jerking and pulling with every bit of strength I have left. Just as my hand starts slipping through the rope, Cat's screams abruptly cease and her frightened eyes dart over my shoulder. A second later, the barrel of a gun is pressed to my temple by someone who must have stepped from the hallway.

"You didn't honestly believe I came alone, did you?" Jimmy asks, his lips twisting into a cruel smirk. "After all, Henry deserves to be here after he spent so much time in jail."

Henry Stephens steps forward just enough for me to see him. He wears the same sick smile as Jimmy. I'm not surprised to see him. My guess is he went straight to Jimmy the moment he got out of prison. Which means he, Terry, and Howard lied when they said they didn't know who Whisper was.

The muscle in my jaw pulses and my hands ball into fists, itching to wrap them around the fucker's throat.

"I don't believe you two were ever properly introduced. Hunter, meet Henry Stephens, your nephew."

"Your son?" I ask. How many more fucking surprises will he come out with today?

Jimmy grins. "Yes."

"And Terry and Howard?"

"My adopted boys. Well, not technically," he shrugs, "but they were friends of Henry's, and I took them in when their shit parents left them on the streets."

"How fucking generous of you," I grate out.

"I thought so. Anyway, they were all too happy to play their part when I told them what I had planned for you. Especially when I showed them pictures of your children. Apparently, it was a fantasy the boys shared to rape and break a child."

Red coats my vision with his taunt.

"And you loved them so much that you just let them rot in prison," I state.

"Only for as long as it took to get them out. Of course, since Henry is my blood, I had to get him out first."

"Terry and Howard are still in the pen."

"Their time is coming."

Not if I have anything to do with it. That's if I can get us out of this.

"So, you staged a break-in, tortured my family, killed my children, and were going to kill my wife all because you were a jealous spoiled brat when we were kids?"

"Of course not. That would be insane."

I grunt. The guy is definitely off his fucking rocker.

"After the fourth time I tried to kill you, our parents took me to a shrink. They thought something was wrong with me." He rolls his eyes, for the moment not touching Cat. "They put me on medicine, but it only made me angrier. I wasn't just angry at you anymore, though, but at them. I hated them for choosing you over me. Life was fucking perfect before you came along."

My joints lock as he looks down at Cat and something ugly crosses his face. The knife is put down on her stomach again and he pulls out a gun from the back waistband of his pants. He presses the barrel of it against her pussy, pushing the tip inside.

Before I can say anything—what can I really say?—he continues talking. I keep my eye on the gun, hoping like fuck he doesn't have twitchy fingers.

"I overheard them talking one night about sending me away to a boarding school. So, I killed them," he says, casual as you fucking please. "Our father kept a gun in his nightstand. I took it out, shot him first, and then shot our mother. I knew from watching our father kill a man once that I needed to wipe the gun down so the cops wouldn't know I did it. It never occurred to them that it was an eight-year-old boy." He laughs maniacally, as if it was the funniest thing he's ever seen. "I thought since we were brothers they would put us with a family together, and I'd bide my time before I finally killed you, but that didn't work out. We were separated. I was willing to let it go, until I found out years later that our parents left you a fucking fortune and me not one fucking dime. Oh, and since we're clearing the air, once I found out about the inheritance and the people who took you in who informed you of the money, I had the brakes cut on their car."

I grit my teeth. "You killed Thomas and Sandra?"

"With fucking pleasure."

Just another reason to enjoy killing this bastard once I get free. I didn't spend enough time with Thomas and Sandra for me to get close to them, but they were the only people who had given me anything good. Through them, my life changed for the better.

"The inheritance came from Patrick and Summer St. James. Another fabrication," I add more to myself than to him. I look at Jimmy. "How in the fuck was that my fault?"

He jams the gun further inside Cat and she cries out. I hear the click of the hammer, and I freeze, my blood running cold.

"It wasn't," he says frostily.

For the first time since this shit started, Jimmy looks as though he's coming unglued. A red flush spreads over his face and the hand holding the gun shakes. Him becoming unhinged is bad. Very fucking bad with the gun shoved inside Cat. Just a twitch of his finger and she's dead.

"It should have been mine. You took my parents from me. You turned them against me. I killed them because of you." Spit flies from his mouth, landing on Cat, who's barely breathing. His voice rises. "You took everything that was supposed to be fucking mine," he finishes on a roar.

The echo of his scream barely fades from the room when a loud knock sounds against the front door. I tense, preparing to spring forward.

His eyes move to Henry's over my shoulder. "Go see who it is and take care of it," he barks.

I'm not sure if Henry never noticed that my hands are nearly free or if he's just stupid. He moves around me, and I keep one eye on him as he leaves the room while the other stays on Jimmy and his gun.

Thankfully, Jimmy gets up and pulls it free from her then sets it on the couch. The reprieve lasts only a second because his hands move to the waistband of his slacks. Unbuttoning and sliding down the zipper, he pulls out his hard cock and fists it. His lecherous eyes move to Cat laid out before him.

"I always regretted not fucking you myself that night." He tugs on his cock. "Out of all the women I've had over the years, your pussy would have been the tightest. My son says you were his favorite, while Terry favored your boy and Howard favored the little bitch. Having you for only one night won't be nearly enough. Too bad I can't take you with me to play with at my leisure, but I don't have time for that."

With one hand around Cat's throat and one gripping his dick between her legs, he leans down, resting most of his weight on her. His head swivels toward me, his crazed eyes meeting mine with a twisted smile.

"I have just enough time for you to watch as I squeeze the life out of your bitch while I fuck her," he says, bending his knees, the tip of his dick an inch from Cat.

My jaw cramps at how hard I'm clenching my teeth. Behind me, I pull my blood-slicked hand free from the rope.

Everything happens at once. When I stand to my feet, ready to charge Jimmy to break his fucking neck, Henry stumbles backward into the living room, his hand around his throat. Red oozes from between his fingers and he falls back onto the floor. Just as he lands, the window across the room shatters and a figure dives inside. Jimmy, who's momentarily stunned by the events, pauses long enough for me to reach him.

I briefly register Cat's muffled scream as my roar fills the room. I have my hand wrapped around Jimmy's neck in the next second, and I pick him up, slamming him to the floor and follow him down.

I'm blinded by rage. All I can see, my every fucking thought, is to continue squeezing until his eyes pop out of their sockets. To feel the life leave his body.

Jimmy will die a brutal death, but not at this moment. He deserves a death much more painful and prolonged.

Cat's whimpers draw my attention away from Jimmy, whose face has turned red from lack of oxygen. Seeing fear and pain in her beautiful blues, I immediately let go of Jimmy.

I notice Silas, who must have been the person at the front door, standing over a deathly still Henry, and I jerk my chin at Jimmy. "Secure him and put him in the basement at Slate," I growl, barely containing the rage still roaring through my veins. "Station Kurt outside the room. No one goes in unless it's you or me."

Dropping to my knees beside the coffee table, I gently remove the tape covering Cat's mouth. As soon as it's gone, she bursts into tears.

"It's okay, baby," I whisper hoarsely. I start working on the ropes around her wrists, but it's taking too fucking long. A knife appears over my shoulder.

The second the ropes are cut away, I'm pulling Cat from the table at the same time she's scrambling to get onto my lap. With her arms around my neck and legs around my waist, I fall to my ass. We're as close as two bodies can get, but it's still not enough. I want to absorb her into my skin and never let her free.

I look up when a blanket is set over Cat's shoulders and meet Mathias's eyes. "Thanks," I grunt.

He walks away without a word.

I bury my face in Cat's hair, breathing in her scent, reassuring myself that she's really okay. Her body begins to shake, so I tuck the blanket around her more tightly, leaving smears of blood from my wrists on the material. I'm not sure if she's cold or her shivers are because of the events over the last couple of hours.

I pull my head out of her hair and gently tip her head back, needing to see her face.

"Are you okay?" I ask, forcing the words out through my dry throat.

Her chin jerks up and her tongue darts out, licking away a fallen tear sliding down her lip. "Yes. I think so."

My chest hurts, like someone punched me in the solar plexus. My eyes roam her face. Her cheeks are splotchy and red, her eyes are swollen and bloodshot, and there's a cut on her bottom lip from when Jimmy slammed her face on the counter. There's also a bruise forming on her left cheek, and blood drips from her nose.

My eyes move to the man lying on the floor on his stomach only ten feet away. My anger renews, not that it's lessened all that much. I want to set Cat aside and pummel the bastard until every bone in his body breaks beneath my hands.

"Hey," Cat says, laying her hand against my cheek and turning my head back to her. "Don't look at him. Look at me."

I inhale a shaky breath and let it out slowly. Careful not to hurt her, I pull her toward me again. She comes willingly, tucking her head back into my neck.

I close my eyes, letting the closeness of her body soak into my bones, calming the unspent rage still radiating through me.