Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two

LUCILLE

Theron thinks he knows everything about me, but he doesn’t. I’m not the girl I was at eighteen. There’s a reason I hardly even flinched when he killed Emmie and Charlie.

Granted, I know I screamed a bit—mainly because I wasn’t expecting it to happen, but I’m not mad about it at all. I’m glad Emmie is gone, and I’m a bit pissed that I didn’t take care of it myself. It was clear that she was not going to go down without a fight. She tried her best to have Theron under her thumb.

Sitting in the back seat of an SUV, I am as quiet as possible, watching as the town of Nights slides by. I don’t know where we’re going, and I don’t care either. All I know is that someone hurt these men when they were younger and now it’s time for some answers.

I want them, too.

All of them.

When the car stops in front of a warehouse in an industrial area, I blink and really take in the world around me. I’ve never been this far out of town before. This is on the true outskirts.

There is the sound of a motorcycle in the distance, and I can’t help but wonder what would be out here for the rider. The next town over isn’t for another twenty miles, and it’s half the size of Nights.

“Ready?” Theron asks.

Turning my head to face him, I’m surprised to see that he’s already out of the car and standing with the door open, his palm facing upward. Unbuckling my seat belt, I slide over to the other side of the car, lift my hand, place my palm in his, and look up at him with a small smile.

“Yeah, I’m ready.”

His strong fingers curl around mine before I slip my legs over and place my feet on the gravel and dirt beneath me. The moment I stand, he drops my hand before he presses his palm against the small of my back and guides me toward the metal building.

He doesn’t give me any warnings, and I don’t ask for any, either. This is a new experience for both of us, and I’m here to learn about Theron and his past. I’m here for him. To be by his side. I’ve worked for a decade to be back here, and I’m not about to walk away now.

I am here for him.

Always.

And.

Forever.

The other men are already in the metal building when Theron reaches for the door and tugs it open. He stands to the side, allowing me to pass through. I’m not sure what I’m going to find when I walk through the door, but I’m surprised that these two men are tied to chairs in the middle of the room. I figured they’d be strung up or something. It’s kind of disappointing, actually.

Staying behind, I watch as Theron, Boden, and Grayson make their way toward the men. They are a formidable trio, and they are a seriously fucking sexy one at that, too. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I worry it as I watch them stand in front of those men in silence.

“Where the fuck can I find the organizer of your operation?” Boden asks.

His voice is deeper, rougher than I’m used to, and it causes my spine to straighten. The man on the left, I recognize him as the gallery owner, Ron Vale. He fights against his restraints, and I watch him, intrigued by how much he’s fighting even though he knows he can’t go anywhere.

“Are you going to answer or just wiggle around?” Theron asks.

Ron stops moving. He tilts his head back and looks up into Theron’s eyes, then I watch as tears fill his eyes. They don’t fall, which is surprising. But when I flick my gaze down to his crotch, I smirk at the sight of his discolored pants.

“I don’t know how to find him,” he whispers as his gaze shifts to the ground.

Liar.

Grayson chuckles, then crouches down in front of him and tilts his head to the side. I wish I could see the expression on his face. I have no doubt he is absolutely fucking with this man.

And good for him for doing it, too.

I watch as Grayson reaches down at his hip and tugs a knife out of the sheath against his belt. Without another word, he reaches forward, his hand moving so quickly that I almost miss it.

He presses the tip of the knife against the center of Ron’s throat and hums. “You know how to find him. Where is the person who gives you the orders? Because you’re not just collecting orphans and selling them to people you know. You aren’t that goddamn smart.”

Those words. They make my whole body ache. I cannot believe that these people were going to hurt children. That they’ve been hurting them. They are, without a doubt, the epitome of evil. Those boys did nothing wrong other than exist.

Then, as my gaze scans the backs of the men who are in this room, it hits me—hard—that they had the same past as those boys. Sold by the epitome of evil for no reason other than because they existed and were alone.

Vaughn reaches out and wraps his fingers around my forearm. Turning my head, I look over at him. I can’t hide the tears in my eyes; they’re threatening to spill over. Vaughn shakes his head once before he mouths something— we are okay .

But are they? Because this is ten years later, and they’re chasing down this guy still. I understand their anger, their need for revenge. I understand it all, but they are not okay. None of them will be okay until vengeance is served.

THERON

Ron Vale is a pussy.

He’s already pissed his pants. I watch as a single tear escapes, then slides down his cheek before another one does. It’s pathetic, but it also tells me everything I need to know about him.

This man is not in charge of shit.

This man does paperwork, but that’s about it. What he doesn’t do is deal with any part of the buying and selling of children where he actually sees their faces.

“Give me the information on Ravet, and I won’t torture you,” I offer.

The tears begin to flow down his cheeks, but he doesn’t say the words. Making a tsking sound with my teeth and tongue, I lean forward. My lips curl in disgust. I’m seconds away from twisting his goddamn neck.

I am so over this shit.

I want Ravet at my feet.

I want to watch him suffer.

“An unknown number would text me instructions. I did those requests, which were mostly paperwork that Emmie helped me with. Transferring funds, sending invitations. But all of this was done with a burner phone and an unknown number.”

At least they weren’t complete idiots. Except, I’m pretty sure we can get information off that phone. “Where is the phone?” I demand.

“The gallery. Locked in a drawer in my office,” he rasps.

I lift my hand. I know there is nothing else he can or will tell me. It’s obvious that this is everything he has. Pressing the knife against his neck, I slowly bury it inside of him, watching as the knife sinks into his throat. His screams are lost, and that makes me smirk.

“You will never hurt another child again,” I whisper.

Straightening, I turn to Boden. “Burner phone at the gallery. I don’t know what we’ll find on it, but that’s all he had to offer me.”

Grayson moves toward Callen Drake. He’s been quiet in this. He doesn’t own a gallery. He’s a completely silent partner at the club. There wasn’t much on him as far as background goes, although I know I didn’t dig too awfully deeply into him. It all makes me wonder who exactly he is—and what he knows.

Because it is something.

“And now that you’re the last man standing, pray tell, what do you know?”

Callen presses his lips together, jerking his chin upward slightly. He looks down his nose at me in an attempt to be a badass. It doesn’t work. He’s not that. He’s not even brave. What he is, is a fuckin’ piece of shit.

Reaching down, I wrap my fingers around the front of his throat and squeeze. He stares at me but doesn’t say a single word. His eyes don’t show fear, either, which is nothing like Asher and Ron. He is the one in charge. He’s not Ravet, but he’s the one with the direct line.

I can’t kill him.

At least not yet.