Chapter 22

The first real-time I've seen my woman get shit-faced shouldn't have been because she's dealing with the death of her brother. It pisses me off that I'm leaving her alone as it is. Her being drunk off her ass, yeah, that doesn't make me happy. Not in the least.

During church, my brothers and I all came to an agreement. This shit comes to an end. To get to Johnathan Bryant, we're going to confront the threat that started it all. Not completely, since he was already after Willow and using Honor as a way of bait through Simon. How the wheels have turned. He doesn't want the others anymore.

We'll still be taking him out as well, but first up, Gwyneth's parents. More or less, her mother. Neither of them knows about Simon, or they shouldn't that is. It'll be interesting to see the news dawning on them when they find out. If, from what we know about the mother, she won't be a blubbering mess. What I want to see for myself is how the father will react to the knowledge his son is dead. Will he be torn up about it like his daughter? Will he wonder where his daughter is? If she knows? How she's taking the news?

Riding with my brothers now, I can't get the sight of Gwyneth's heart breaking out of my head. All I keep seeing is the pain filling her eyes. The tears wanted to escape the hold she'd had on them. Her pain echoed out to me. Fuck me, I never want to see that look in her expression again.

The more I think about it, the higher my anger gets. It's time for the bullshit to be done and over with. By the end of the night, I swear one way or another, this shit ends for my woman. I won't allow anything else to happen to her.

Enough is enough.

The people behind this, the ones responsible . . . they're in for a reckoning they've never seen before. I'll take them all down and burn their homes to the ground.

Thirty minutes pass, and soon we're driving up to a gated property. Cy does his thing and gets the gate to open. Once we're through, we ride right up to the front doors.

The door opens immediately to two men who look similar to each other, even though one is much older than the other. Father and son. Simon and Gwyneth's father and grandfather. Both of them are dressed in suits that look like they cost about what I spent on all of my leather together.

"What the dickens is going on here?" the grandfather demands the moment all of us shut our bikes off.

No one replies to the old man as we climb off the back of our bikes and make our way toward them.

"I'll have you all arrested for trespassing," the old coot blusters.

"You go ahead and try to have us arrested, you old bastard," Malice snarls. "I'd like to see you try."

I guess my VP knows the older man.

"Who are you people, and what are you doing here?" Gwyneth's father asks, and on a closer look, I can see some resemblance.

"I'm your daughter's man," I speak up, stepping forward. "Do you have any idea the bullshit you and your wife have caused? That the debt your wife and you have caused is the reason your very own son is dead."

"Excuse me?" the old coot huffs.

"What are you talking about?" Gwyneth's father asks, shock overtaking his expression. "What do you mean my son is dead? What have you done to him?"

"How about you ask your wife?" Hammer advises. "Speaking of her, where is she this evening?" Moving forward, he pushes his way through the two men into the oversized house.

"I'm calling the police," the old man shouts.

"Go ahead. Maybe they'd like to know how your son and his wife are behind your grandson's murder." Malice sneers.

"Why do you keep saying we're the reason? What have you done to my son? Where is my daughter?"

"Your daughter is none of your concern," I snap and get directly in his face. "Because of you and your wife's selfishness, not taking care of your debts the proper way and then not taking care of the money you owe that person, her life was put in danger. And your son, we hid, unfortunately, someone found him and killed him."

"We're not in debt," Gwyneth's father utters the words, taking a step back, his face paling. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything about this. Our finances are in order, and if they were in trouble, I would know about it and take care of things properly. I might be a lot of things, but I'm no fool when it comes to my money."

"You're an idiot and a sad excuse for a father," I state, though I believe him when he says he's no fool when it comes to finances. "How about you explain to us then how your wife came to be in debt and seeking money from a man named Johnathan Bryant?"

This is something I want him to explain. And from the look on his face, he's not exactly thrilled to hear Johnathan's name.

"What is this about?" the old coot demands, stepping closer to his son. "We have nothing to do with the likes of Johnathan Bryant. He's nothing but trouble. Always has been."

"So, you know who this fucker is?" I quip.

"Oh, we know who he is," Gwyneth's father confirms, nodding curtly. "Come on inside, we'll discuss this in the other room and not in the foyer."

Following the other man, I take in the house where my woman grew up. Not a house. A fucking mansion that holds no personality whatsoever.

"My wife is out of town for one of her girl trips to some resort or somewhere with her friends according to the message she left for me with my receptionist."

The older man takes a seat in one of the high-back chairs as his son makes this announcement. "Woman is always looking to go to the spa or some other resort. She likes to spend money every chance she can."

"How about you explain to us how it is you know nothing of a debt that has your name attached to your wife's?" Hammer demands.

Gwyneth's father doesn't bother looking toward my Prez, he keeps his gaze focused on me. "Gwyneth is safe? She's unharmed?"

"Don't concern yourself with my woman," I advise him. "And answer my Prez's question."

"I don't know what this debt is. If my wife has accrued this, then it is on her and her alone."

"That would be where you're wrong." Dagger snarls.

"Because of your wife, Gwyneth has a bounty on her head. A deal was struck that she would be used as payment for a debt to Johnathan Bryant," I inform her father and grandfather, meeting both of their gazes. "We have proof of communication between your wife and this fucker. Because of this debt, your son was killed. Someone cut his head off and left a message for anyone who protects Gwyneth that they're next."

"Oh God," Gwyneth's father utters, collapsing onto a chair behind him. "She did it," he mumbles to himself, shaking his head. "She really did it. She said she'd make me pay one day."

"Want to enlighten the rest of the class?" Gunner snaps.

"Gwyneth's mother . . . she died. We were having an affair when I found out she was pregnant with my daughter. I intended to leave my wife for her. Then, during childbirth, there were complications. She died, bled out. I stayed with my wife under the circumstances she were to act like a mother to my daughter, and we never tell her the truth."

"She knows your wife isn't her mother," I inform him.

"Of course she does. My daughter isn't stupid. I don't know what happened for her to leave the moment she could, but my wife, well, she said it was for the best. That it was what my little girl wanted."

"She left because your wife tormented her, and sent her off to some bullshit spa," I spit out and glare at both men. "Are you two oblivious to the fact the bitch was all but torturing her those six months that she was supposedly overseas studying? Fuckin' bitch was having her tormented by electrodestelling her she wasn't proper material for someone of your station. Because of her, Gwyneth slept in her car until her captain took her in. To make it all worse, your son was dragged into this, and to protect his sister, he tried going up against us. Then, he told his sister what was going down, and she had the sense to come to us and explain. Got her brother to explain. Got him to apologize. Because of her we did what we could to protect him. If not for your wife, none of this would have happened." By the time I finish, I'm shouting loud enough for the chandelierin the middle of the room to shake.

"Oh dear Lord," the older man whispers, face drained of all color.

"You want to make things better, start talking. Where exactly is your woman because she's definitely not at some spa," Malice states.

"I don't know. But I can call her."

"Don't do that," Cy interrupts Gwyneth's father. "Give me all of her phone numbers. Along with those she associates with."

For the next fifteen minutes, both men give us everything they know of.

By the time they finish, I'm itching to get back to Gwyneth. To make sure she's okay.

"Do you think I could possibly see my daughter?"

I glare at the man who fathered my woman. "I'll discuss it with her. See what she wants. You don't get anywhere near her unless I'm there, but more importantly, unless she wants to see you."

"Fair enough," the other man nods in agreement. "Please let her know that I'm truly sorry and that if she'll give me another chance, I'll make things right."

I grunt out an answer as my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to find it's a text from my sister. I open the message to make sure it's not an emergency, and my blood freezes in my veins just as my brothers also pull out their phones.

There's a text with a picture.

I have something you want. You have something I want. Trade, and they won't get hurt. I'd hate to take another head, but I will.

The picture was of my sister and her kids. All of them staring at the camera in fear, tears running down their cheeks.

Motherfucker.