Chapter Twenty

Impatience

Willow

It's been three days of watching my husband torture the men in his employ. No one is skipped over as he tries to find the weak spots in his house, in his empire. Anger and frustration cling to him like a cloak. He has barely slept and only eats when I threaten withholding sex.

Dominic stands beside him, never uttering a word, watching as his friend and boss lays waste to the empire they both thought was rock steady. They still haven't spoken about what happened and I know eventually it will blow up but they will do whatever they want, as usual.

"Are they still in the basement?" Thalia asks, walking into the library. Dressed in a soft pink sundress she looks like a petite fairy.

I've been sitting here for the past hour with my cousin, Alejandra, working through the Hernandez family finances. She's been combing through everything since she arrived in the States and I am not happy at all. My uncle got the family name locked up in some seriously shady stuff. Drugs, guns, but the worst is the human trafficking. Why the hell would he ever go into business with a scumbag like Kirrill Singleton?

I need to have a serious conversation with Rafe because I honestly don't have a fucking clue how to get out of this mess. If I could, I would kill my uncle again.

I smile at Tahlia. I don't know her as well as I would like to and that is another item on my to-do list. She is just as much a part of this family as I am. "Rafe is taking a shower while Dom fetches him some new victims. I got bored and we needed to work through some shit," I explain. "Have you met Alejandra?"

I gesture to my cousin, who gives Thalia a smile and a brief nod before returning to her paperwork. She is very dedicated to her work and wants to prove that she will be an asset to the family. Not that I even know if there will still be a Hernandez family. None of us can find Roman, and we don't even know if he left of his own volition or if he's been taken.

"Yeah," Thalia's voice cuts into my thoughts. "I can see watching your husband torture a hundred men becoming monotonous after a while."

Both of us chuckle at her words. This is definitely not a normal conversation. Other women would have run from this house and these men a long time ago.

"Have you seen Regina?" I ask.

"She's fine, and the baby is doing well. She knows she needs to take care of herself, even if her emotional state is still shot to shit."

"I wish I could help her," I say. "But half of this mess is my doing and there isn't really much that can be done about how she is feeling."

"Give her time. The pain will never fully go away, but it will fade."

Thalia has a haunted look in her eyes and I want to ask her more, but Diego strolls into the room, acting like he doesn't have a care in the fucking world. Blood drips from the gym bag in his hand to the floor, soaking into the carpet.

"Jesus wept, Diego!" I shriek, jumping up. "Don't you have any goddamned manners? You're ruining my carpet!"

"Sorry, Boss." He shrugs with a grin. "I brought a present."

"You're like a cat, stuffing the canary in his owner's slipper," Thalia says with an eye roll.

"Actually," Diego singsongs, "the gift is for you."

He walks over to the coffee table while Alejandra hastily grabs all her papers, and plops the bag down. Unzipping it, he reveals the unblinking gaze of a man I have never seen before. I'm trying to figure out who the fuck this could be when Thalia sobs loudly behind me.

Spinning around, I face her. Tears stream down her ashen face. She doesn't even blink, staring at the head in the bag.

"Who the fuck is that?" Alejandra asks with the detached calm of a perfectly trained mafia princess.

"That used to be Daemon Cross. Human trafficker, general asshole, and the former right-hand man of Kirrill Singleton."

Diego is sickeningly proud of himself, preening like a damn peacock. Thalia was right, he's an overgrown fucking cat.

"Why is his head in a bag?" I ask, my mind running a mile a minute. I'm not sure if this will help or hinder me. But if Diego is running around tearing down the Singleton empire from all sides, I may still have the chance to save my own family name.

"I owed Tahlia a life debt," he replies like it should clear up every question I have, referencing when she recently saved his life.

"I needed him alive," she whispers. "He was one of the few people who knows where my daughter is."

Daughter? What the fuck? I really need to spend some time getting to know her better if shit ever settles down. If that ever happens.

"I only killed him after I got the information," Diego says softly. "I know how important this is to you."

Thalia stares at him, disbelief coloring her features.

"Would you care to explain just how you know so much about the people in my house?" Rafe asks from the doorway. "I've spent years trying to track Kirrill down, and the last three days trying to find the rat, but perhaps I've been looking in the wrong place."

I glare at my husband. "Don't even start with that shit. If Diego wanted to he could have killed me the same day Sebastian took out your father. Hell, he could have killed any of us a hundred other times. Instead, he has been keeping me alive while I have been putting myself at risk."

"Willow," Diego says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Your husband has a right to question me and my methods." He turns to Rafe. "It doesn't mean I am going to answer your questions but feel free to ask them."

"I don't fucking like you," Rafe says, venom coating his words. "And if it weren't for my wife, I would have had you put down like the dog you are, a long time ago."

"Understandable," Diego muses. "But then you would lose an asset."

"You haven't been anything but a pain in my ass!" Rafe snaps.

"That's because you're wound so tight." Diego chuckles, pushing my husband's buttons. I want to jab him in the ribs but I also want to see where the hell he is going with this. "I am here to help. Whether you care to believe me or not. My loyalty may lie with Willow but she is loyal to you, so you get me too."

"I wish I could get fucking rid of you," Rafe mumbles as he stares into the bag. "But you may turn out to be useful. You've been able to do something Dom couldn't accomplish in four years."

"He helped," Diego says, gesturing to the doorway.

Standing there, like an avenging angel, is Dominic, covered in blood from head to toe. In his arms he holds a sleeping toddler against his chest.