CHAPTER NINETEEN

ARIES

You would think it'd be easy to focus on nothing other than my sister, but it's not the case. Exactly two months ago, I married Dalia. She was mine, but now she's not. I'll never hold her, kiss her, or fuck her again and that leaves me feeling like one giant raw exposed fucking nerve. As I step into Max's house, my chest constricts when I see his wife. She introduced herself as Willow, and I don't know why, but she makes me think of Dalia. Not because they look alike because they really don't, but maybe because she said the word wife. Already I miss her, and am having trouble reminding myself that this is for the best. I know she thinks I ended things as early as I did because I couldn't wait to get rid of her. Silly woman. It's the complete opposite, in reality. The truth is, the longer it went on, the harder it would be on both of us. Leading her to believe she meant nothing to me other than sex was difficult, because it's nothing more than a hurtful lie. Do I love her? No, but I honestly do care about her.

Walking into his office, I find a mass of people I don't know, and two I wish I didn't. He quickly introduces everyone, "You know Drake, Domenic, and Benji."

Then he points out the others, "Trevor, Mia, Hunter, Jade, and Nash."

I nod, "Thanks for the help. I appreciate it."

Max looks around like he's trying to look behind me, "Is Dalia not here?"

Shaking my head, I say, "No. She's at Domenic's. I want her safe."

He runs his thumb across his jaw like he's in deep thought, "Alright that's fine for now, but I think, based on what we know, that we're going to need her help after we get Sierra."

Domenic says proudly, "My sister is hands down the best at helping victims. There is nobody that's better."

I smile at the thought of the beautiful woman I've gotten to know, "That doesn't surprise me at all."

Do I want Dalia around Sierra? No. Not at all. Not because she won't provide the best care for my sister, I have no doubt she would, but because it would probably be better for both of us to have a clean break. Seeing her again might weaken my resolve. If I have to look in her eyes again and see the pain I put there, I'm not sure I can handle it. Can I even be in the same room as her, and not pull her into my arms and tell her the truth about how I feel? It's a fucking catastrophe waiting to happen.

Max says, "Okay. My team have all done this before. Nash will be going in and bidding on Sierra, because they won't know who he is."

I glare at him in disagreement, "She's my sister. I can do it."

He tilts his head, almost as if he's amused with me, "Absolutely not. If you want to do that, you're on your own. There's a high probability that she was taken as retaliation from something you did. Before you get riled up, I'm not saying it's your fault. I'm only saying that they may very well know what you look like. That puts everyone at risk, including your sister."

Holding my hands up, I admit defeat, "You're in charge. If you say sending someone else in is the best way, it's fine. I don't like it at all, but I'll deal with it."

Max sighs audibly, "Look, we have video and have figured out why she's being resold, but these videos, when it's people you love, are hard to watch. So it's up to you."

The man called Hunter groans, like those words pain him, "It's horrible. If you think you possibly can't handle it, you probably can't."

Folding my arms across my chest, I narrow my gaze at him, "As long as she's alive, I'd rather know than be imagining every worst case scenario."

He points to a monitor on the wall, "Alright. The video will play there."

I stare as an image appears of my beaten sister. The video starts and she says in a small voice, "Sierra Lombardi. Age 14."

A man, not in sight on the video, says to her, "Are you a virgin?" He starts laughing, like he told a hilarious joke, as the camera pans down her stomach. As if the bruises weren't enough. As if staring at my naked fourteen-year-old sister isn't enough. I stare at her visibly swollen stomach and stumble. Domenic gets up and grabs my arms, and pulls me to the couch, forcing me down as my head swirls. Am I going to puke? Pass out? Maybe both? I have no fucking idea, but I can't believe what I'm seeing. Those bastards got her pregnant.

My fourteen-year-old sister is pregnant by her rapist.

There are voices all around me, but they all sound distant, like maybe they aren't really there. The only thing that catches my attention is the name, ‘Dalia'.

Domenic says, "I'll call her."

Max looks to Nash, "You need to head out. If you are to get outbid, text 9-1-1 to my burner immediately."

"Got it," he says as he rises from his chair and turns to leave.

Domenic steps outside and returns a few minutes later, "She'll be at the safe house."

He clearly doesn't know what happened, considering he's not threatening to kill me. Yet. What confuses me more, is her agreeing to help Sierra. I'm surprised she didn't say to send someone else. Then I think again, that's not Dalia. She'll push aside her pain to help someone in need. I chuckle inwardly, I really never did deserve her.

"So we just wait then?"

Max nods, "Yeah. We just wait. Want a drink?"

"Got something strong?"

He stands and grabs the two phones from his desk, "Follow me."

I follow, with Drake and Domenic close behind me, which is slightly unnerving. When a man is at his weakest it's the best time to attack. And fuck. I'm at my weakest.

He takes me out to a bar outside near his pool, "I've got just about everything. Pick your poison."

I run a hand through my hair, "I'll take a double shot of whatever."

He hands me my drink, I nod my thanks, walk over to the table on the patio and take a seat. Domenic comes over to me and sits down.

"It's hard at first, really hard, but you get through it. Killing the fuckers helps, but it takes time. When you see her today, it'll seem like you've lost your sister and she's gone for good. But then over time you will see glimpses of the little girl you knew. As the days, weeks, and months go on, you'll see more of it. I won't lie. She's never going to be exactly the same, but she will get through it."

I take a swallow of my drink before setting it on the table, and turn to him with a glare, "Why the fuck are you being nice to me? Offering advice and shit? I gotta admit it's a little unnerving."

He chuckles loudly, "It really is. Whether I like it or not, you're my brother-in-law now. Besides, even if you weren't, I know how terrible what you're going through is."

I finish off my drink and say, "You don't know shit. Clearly you haven't had a conversation with your sister today."

"What?" He says.

I sit on the chair beside him, my hands around my now empty glass, wishing I could will it to refill, "I broke her fucking heart. Like she meant nothing to me."

"What?" He repeats himself.

Following his lead, I repeat myself, "I broke her fucking heart. Like she meant nothing to me."

He keeps his voice low, but no less threatening, "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you right now."

I shake my head, not looking away from my glass, I say, "I don't have a single one."

The smile on my face can't be helped when I think back to the night I married her.

I still remember that first night. We walked into the hotel room just after we were pronounced husband and wife. The second we walked into the room she started screaming, "It's so hot in here! This must be what hell feels like."

Then came her clothes. I watched as she stripped one item at a time. First her dress. Then her bra. And finally her panties. Jesus, I've never wanted to fuck a pussy more than I did that night. But I didn't. I wanted her to be awake, struggling beneath me, begging…

Begging for me to stop, begging for me to fuck her harder. It didn't really matter, I just wanted to hear her beg from those pretty lips.

Those lips… I knew they'd feel so good wrapped around my cock.

I wanted to fuck her so bad it hurt, so the next morning I did.

She cried.

How was I to know she could fall for an asshole like me?

It's not until Domenic stands up and punches me in the face, that I realize I was thinking out loud. I fall out of the chair, flat on my back on the hard pool deck. He climbs on top of me as I hear Drake in the background saying something, but after three punches to the face, my ears are ringing, and I can't think any more straight than I could before.

Did I want him to hit me? Maybe.

There's a stupid thing about emotional pain. When you really feel like you're dying inside, physical pain takes away your focus, it makes it so you can get through it. Between Dalia and Sierra, I'm not sure I'll survive the night. Even more than that, I'm not sure I want to. Max comes back from wherever he went, and pulls Domenic off of me, "What the fuck is wrong with you, Domenic? This is my goddamn home. I have a wife and children inside."

My attacker yelled ‘Fuck', and took off somewhere. I don't know where, hopefully to play in traffic. Max helps me off the ground and shoves his finger in Drake's face, "Clean up your brother's mess, or neither of you will ever be welcome here again."

Drake scratches his head as he looks at the doorway then back to the bloody floor, as if he can't decide which direction to go.

"Now," Max yells and makes his decision for him.

"Sit," he says as he turns to me, "I don't know what that was about, and I don't fucking care, but there's no violence in my home."

I nod in agreement, "Got it. I'm sorry. I may have said some things that instigated that. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

He takes a seat beside me, a phone in his hand, "Let me explain how things will work after Nash gets her."

"Please."

The man I think was named Trevor brings over two more glasses of alcohol, and sets them in front of us, which I'm grateful for because my face really fucking hurts. Domenic De Luca is a big man, six foot seven, and he's an absolute monster. Also, getting hit and not blocking punches, or attempting to defend yourself, tends to sting.

He takes a swallow of his drink, "Nash will bring her to one of my safehouses, where Dalia is waiting. Doctors will look at her before you can see her."

"Alright," I say, but I'm not really happy about it. I want to see her immediately and see for myself that she's okay, but I do know she's going to need medical attention.

I take a large swallow of my drink and he continues, "She's going to be scared. Probably terrified. You can expect your sister to not want to be touched. I know you'll be eager to hug her, but you need to take things at her speed. Pushing her too far, too fast, can set back her healing."

Once again my mind goes back to that fucking video, that right now I wish I had chosen not to see. It's going to haunt me for years.

"Max, she's a fucking kid. She can't have a child."

I clench my fists, the pure fury in me is making me want to kill someone. No. Need to kill someone. It's the purest need I have right now.

"Aries, look at me."

I do with a glare, even though he has done nothing to receive it.

"She needs a little time to come to grips with what's happened, and then she can decide what's right for her. I tend to agree with you. Fourteen is too young to be a mother, but it's her baby, her body, and I urge you to let her make that decision. She has been stripped of all control and dignity, don't take more from her. Give her the options, and let her take control of her life by making that choice."

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, his phone rings and he answers it, "Nash."