40. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Rome

We have an hour to be done with this. Less than that, really. Our men will need twenty minutes tops to clean this mess up before the FBI agents barge in.

Our connections in the FBI promised they’ll hold back any agents assigned to the case. They said an hour is all they can do for us.

They deserve worse, our parents . Years of torture. Spending the rest of their miserable lives behind bars.

Except the thought of having them locked up and breathing sickens me. An hour it is.

By then, they’ll be gone. And no, no one will think they’ve been kidnapped or murdered.

But I digress.

We walk fast past the lobby of the building where Anne and I grew up. Nothing’s changed in this concrete and metal prison. High ceilings, marble everywhere, dark wood features and two antique elevator doors.

Everything screams money. Not a whisper of pain and heartache seeps from these walls. None.

Fuck this place.

The man at the front desk lets the five of us through without a word. We cleared it with him a week ago. Transferred money to his account that’d put his two kids through college in case he lost his job over this.

A mysterious glitch in the security cameras for the time we spend here. That’s all we asked in return. It didn’t hurt to learn he loathes Joseph as much as I do.

Anne and Damien head to the elevators. Quinlan, Liam and I are right behind them. The violent energy that’s been building inside me since the moment we left home hasn’t let up on the way here.

If anything, it expanded. It’s taken over every part of my body. Hatred soaks my blood. The need to avenge me, but mostly Anne, is everywhere.

“Their plane took off.” Liam, on the other side of Quinlan, shoves his phone into his pocket. “The Langfords are officially on their way to Vietnam.”

We join Damien and Anne, waiting for the elevators. The corners of Quinlan’s lips lift, curving into a wicked smirk. She knows which Langfords Liam is talking about.

She heard all about it on the way over here. Jagger and his girlfriend, Nila—his future wife, according to Damien—play a big part in our plan.

Jagger came up with fake passports for him and Nila. We bribed the officials in the airport and the Langfords’ pilot and plane crew.

Money solves just about anything , Quinlan repeated my words. And she was right. As far as the world is concerned, Joseph and Elaine Langford are on a flight to a country with non-extradition treaty with the US where they’ll stay for good.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” My fingers run along the delicate curve of her neck. The word murder plays on repeat in my head, yet somehow, I have it in me to be mildly soft. Caring even. “Something’s going on in this beautiful head of yours. Tell me.”

She doesn’t say a word. I’ve learned this about Quinlan over the time we spent together. This is my day. My moment. She won’t steal the limelight.

Unless I demand she does.

Liam joins Damien and Anne’s conversation. They don’t see how any trace of softness vanishes from my expression.

Quinlan does. My hand closes on her cheek, hurting her the way she loves. “We’re going home. Right this fucking minute. Unless you start talking.”

“Rome.” She searches my eyes, frowning. “I was smiling. That’s all.”

A subtle shake of her head gets her talking.

“Fine.” A sigh, then her smile returns. “Is it sick that I have butterflies?” Quinlan’s large gray eyes look at me as the five of us start filing into the elevator. I’m still holding her. “It’s like I don’t even recognize myself anymore.”

“It’s hot is what it is.” Damien tugs on her hair.

“You don’t have to turn everything into—” Red travels up Quinlan’s neck and cheeks. She remembers that Anne’s here. Clears her throat. “I was talking to Rome.”

“He’s right. It is hot.” The elevator goes up. My blood boils and still, I have this moment to give her. “You’ve always been this person, sweetheart. Good and feisty and unhinged. You needed to stop surviving and start living to see that, that’s all. You’re not sick.”

“Sick is starving your children for the fuck of it,” Anne laughs, her pitch a tad too high. Guess I’m not the only one getting worked up. “Wanting them dead is justice.”

“Okay.” Just as Quinlan says that, the elevator reaches the top floor of the building.

We step out into the hall. The pounding between my ears is loud, but the rhythm is slow and consistent. Confident.

“We’ll keep her safe.” Liam slides his arm around Quinlan’s waist, tucking her into his side.

“What?” Her head whips toward him. “I’m not staying out here.”

Damien stands on her other side. “Of course you aren’t. No one will. We’ve been waiting for this for years.”

My thumb caresses the bandage on my right ring finger one time, and then I fish the penthouse key from my pocket. That was the easiest part to retrieve, thanks to their locksmith.

Anyway.

“Here we go,” Anne whispers. The metal glints under the glow of the overhead, expensive light fixtures of the hall. Her eyes shine brighter. “This is it, brother.”

This isn’t the right moment to hug anyone. This isn’t the time to feel any other thing than the need for revenge.

It really isn’t.

“Yes.” I hug my sister regardless.

“This ends today.” She pulls away.

“It is.”

The key fits in its hole. The lock gives in. One click, one push on the bronze handle, and the door opens.

My stomach roils that first second I step inside. This goddamn place hasn’t changed. The white marble floor is clean and inviting as the warm lights are. An original painting hangs on one of the walls of the foyer.

Antique wood furniture lines the other. There’ll be more of it throughout the place. They belonged to a Duchess from wherever the fuck. Whatever I had in my room, I broke and tarnished before I hauled my suitcase and my sister out of this hellhole.

This deceiving fucking hellhole.

Memories push their way up. They try to assault me.

I’m that kid again. Curled into a ball in the corner of my room after two days without food. My stomach was so empty. Elaine’s empty expression when I begged her to spare Anne. Anything, even dog food would do.

Fuck this. I push them back to where they belong. Far away where they’ll never bother me again.

No more.

“Why the hell do I pay you, you bunch of incompetent imbeciles?” my father shouts, his voice booming from the living room. Bouncing off the walls. This isn’t the tone he used on us when he announced there’ll be no food for the next few days. He isn’t calm. Not enjoying himself. “You’re my PR firm. Your job is—Shut up, idiot. Shut up and listen. Damage control is what you do, is it not?” The brief silence ends with a, “So fucking do it. Our stock will not plummet. No one’s removing me from my own company. No. One.”

A sob cuts through the thundering silence. Elaine.

A high marble wall separates the foyer and the living room. I can’t see what’s going on there.

I know what doesn’t. Joseph doesn’t comfort her. He doesn’t have his arm around her shoulders. Doesn’t kiss her and promise he’ll fix this for her. He doesn’t care about her.

All those years. Her blind devotion and taking his abusive side over ours.

It was for nothing.

Anne sneaks a glance at me, her eyebrows high, lips pinched. She wants—no, needs —to kill them.

Our time is running out.

But I need to be here. Where I am. Where we are. I need this minute to absorb his misery. Joseph’s at his weakest. At his most vulnerable.

He won’t give me the pleasure of watching him crumble. The second we march into the living room, he’ll regain his composure. The cold, heartless bastard that had terrorized Anne and me for years will rob me of this part of my revenge.

I put a hand on Anne’s shoulder. My right hand, with Quinlan’s mark on it.

Dark blue eyes gaze up at me in confusion. She’s shorter than I am, shorter than she’s been in the penthouse now that she’s changed into the sneakers I’ve been saving for her in my car.

Listen , I mouth, leveling her with a serious gaze.

Curses. Glass crashes on the marble floor. He’s on another phone call, shouting and cursing. One of his contacts in the government, by the sound of it. Ordering them to close the stock market until he proves the article was a hit job. Fake news.

He won’t be able to. What he’s doing is stalling. Just long enough so federal agents won’t come knocking while he liquidates his assets and disappears.

Someone beat you to it, you piece of shit.

“I want it done within the hour. Don’t call me before that.” Joseph ends the conversation. Shatters another vase or one of Elaine’s crystal figurines.

She cries harder.

Three hands rest on my back. Two larger ones. One small and warm.

We’re here , their touch assures me. You’re not alone in this .

I’m not. Haven’t been in a long fucking while.

Every muscle in my body tenses. My fingers flex on Anne’s shoulder. I stare at eyes that are the same blue shade as mine, then turn around and grab Quinlan’s neck. I don’t just kiss her. I devour her. Brutally. A true savage. Much like she is.

“Unfortunate news, Joseph.” My voice is eerily calm as we step into the living room, reminding me a lot of Liam’s.

The two monsters in the living room snap their heads at us.

Elaine is in a pale pink blouse and matching pencil skirt, her light-brown hair twisted into a bun at her nape. Just how Joseph demands her to be at all times.

Presentable. The perfect cover to help hide how rotten he is.

She can’t pull it off today, not really. Her blue eyes are puffy, bloodshot. A few strands of her hair have escaped her neat bun, clinging to her black mascara streaks on her cheeks.

She’s a mess.

Joseph seems to be handling it better than her. Dressed in a dark blue suit, his brown eyes are furious. His black, graying hair is combed to the side. As if he’ll step out of here any minute. As if he has a chance to be saved.

Joke’s on him. He’s not leaving. No one’s here to save him.

This is the end of the line for him. For both of them.

I close the distance between us, while Joseph stares at me. He doesn’t say a word, shifting his gaze behind me. To my real family.

“Too scared to face me on your own?” Arrogant prick. He smirks, his eyebrow quirking. “You’ve always been such a coward, Roman.”

“He’s not a coward, you fuck,” Anne hisses, moving to my side.

Small fingers squeeze my waist from behind.

Quinlan.

Once this is over, the three of us are dragging her home. She’ll cry and come and—

Not now.

“No one calls me Roman anymore.” No one has for years.

In fact, he’s the only one who’s ever called me that.

Forget about dinner, Roman.

Was that attitude? Good job, Roman. You just landed you and your sister a forty-eight-hour water fast. Just water.

You think you can punch me, Roman? Look at you. You’re weak. You’ll always be weak.

I changed my legal name to Rome the second I broke my trust fund. Couldn’t run fast enough.

“Triggered by a name?” he goads me, playing games. It was always games with him. “You’re the same pussy you were when you ran out of here. With your tail between your legs, if I remember correctly. Weak, pathetic man-child. Your position and money mean nothing when deep down you’re a loser.”

His fingers tap on the screen of his phone. Elaine ambles toward the hallway, undoubtedly trying to escape my wrath.

“Don’t.” I point a finger at him.

Anne stalks toward the cowardly woman, grabbing her by her bun. My sister laughs at the sound of her screams, the giggle even more unhinged than before. I don’t blame her.

Elaine’s pain is delicious.

“Or what? You’ll hurt me?” Joseph’s chuckle draws me back to him. It grates on my nerves.

I soak it up, knowing damn well the man is terrified and doing his best to hide it.

His smile never reaches his eyes. It used to, before. Doesn’t anymore.

“You’ll go to prison for this.” He waves his phone at me. “Then what? You’ll leave your sister with her poor excuse of a husband?”

“Nick is a better person than your useless ass will ever be,” she growls, tugging on Elaine’s hair harder.

“ Ahhhh! ”

Anne smiles down at her. “Shut up, bitch.”

“You’ll leave her with these people?”

This is how he’d always manipulated me. Anne is my weak spot. But even if I die today, nothing will happen to her. She’s strong all on her own. The people I’ve surrounded myself with are just as strong and love her just as fiercely as I do. She’ll never want for anything again.

“Who the hell is this woman, anyway? You’ve finally found someone desperate enough to date you ?” He tilts his head, looking at Quinlan. I step in front of her. “You’re not that bad looking. You could do better than this good for nothing. This man-child.”

The second I see Liam shoving Quinlan behind his back, I pounce forward. I’m around the leather sofa and past the coffee table at an inhuman speed. Fueled by my rage. By my thundering sense of justice.

My teeth are bare. Fists clenched.

Red. My whole fucking world is red. That’s the color of revenge, of the need to protect what’s mine.

Joseph stumbles back, doesn’t make it far. I bat the phone out of his hand.

His throat is in my hand, my face in his. This isn’t how I choke Quinlan. I’m not being careful with his windpipe.

Quite the opposite.

“Don’t you dare talk to her,” is the first thing I say, hauling him closer. “This is about you and me.”

He clutches at my T-shirt. “About you going to prison.”

“This again?” I shake him. “You really think I’ve waited all these years to end up in prison?”

Joseph is a couple of inches shorter than I am. His idea of working out is playing golf with his rich buddies. He struggles in my hold, his fingers rising higher to claw at my hand as he gasps for air.

The smell of his fear is intoxicating.

“Answer me.”

When I shake him a second time, that’s when his new reality sinks in. His pupils are huge. His forehead glistens with a sheen of sweat.

That doesn’t stop him from testing me. “You won’t g-get away with this. You’ll die in prison.”

“What’s that, Dad ? You’re worried about me all of a sudden?” The adrenaline rushing through my veins nearly blinds me. I’m drowning in it. “Don’t. You worry about staying alive long enough for me to shatter every bone in your body.”

I’ll never forget this. The first punch to Joseph’s cheekbone, to the area below his eye. The way my bloodied knuckles crack against bone. The way righteousness isn’t a word anymore, it’s a feeling.

“Leave him alone,” Elaine sobs.

Sobs.

For the twenty-six years we’d lived here, she hadn’t shed one goddamn tear over Anne or me.

She was either angry or annoyed. When Anne cried too loud. When we started BLF, and I could afford taking my sister out to restaurants whenever they let her out of the house. They never caught me, but Anne gained weight. They made her throw up, but not always. Not all the time.

Elaine scolded me for the new clothes she had to buy my sister. Acted like she was doing me a favor by not snitching to our father .

“No.” My fist lands on the same place on his face, the crack somehow louder than before. I must’ve broken a bone, or maybe just cracked it. That’s fine. We have time to do more damage. “You’re getting what you deserve, old man.”

I toss him on the floor, and he lands there like a pile of old, sweaty clothes. He’s quick to school his bewildered expression. His hands— fuck yes —they betray his fear, flying up to protect his face.

Anne laughs, and it sounds the craziest of all her laughs up until this moment. Nothing wrong with that.

Hell, I don’t feel all that normal myself. Whatever that means.

“That’s a lie. You’ll never get everything you deserve.” I’m on my knees, one hand around his throat, connecting my fist to his ribs. One, two, three. A hundred times. “It’s unfortunate that I’ll have to settle for”—I grip his wrists, wrenching his hands off his face—“just a few punches. You’ll be dead in no time. Truly unfortunate.”

Someone’s watching me. Calling for my attention.

Not Anne. She’s over at my side, crouched over Elaine, who she threw on the floor. She pokes the tip of a dip pen into Elaine’s throat. Stab . Stab . Stab . The bitch keeps sobbing and screaming. There are already five holes there. Blood trickles down, tainting the collar of her blouse. The floor.

Anne’s not the one who’s looking at me. In fact, she’s doing great. When we talked on the phone the other day, I didn’t know how much she needed this. I’m glad she convinced me to bring her with us.

This leaves my friends. My Quinlan.

Joseph groans, miserable beneath me. Reminding me why I’m here.

Carnage. I’m there. So fucking ready.

But I make time for her. I’ll always make the fucking time for her.

I stab my knee into Joseph’s cracked ribs, keeping him in place. As I look over my shoulder, I half-expect to be met with disappointment in Quinlan’s gray eyes. Fear of the animal I’m transforming into before her. Her hands clasping Damien and Liam’s, begging them to protect her.

I’ve never been so wrong in my life.

Our unhinged, wild woman smiles. Her smile is huge. No one’s comforting her. The three of them are there, their gazes dark and approving.

Quinlan gives me the thumbs up. Blows me a kiss. “You’ve got this, baby.”

I lift my hand just in time to catch her air kiss. With a somber expression, I press it to my cock. I love you , I mouth.

“What in God’s name is this, Roman?” Joseph reminds me he’s still alive. Still well enough to talk. “Is this what you’ve been up to? Dating a psycho bit—”

The derogatory name dies a violent death on his lips. The next punch I administer knocks out two of Joseph’s front teeth. They graze my knuckles as they fly out of his mouth.

“Shut your goddamn mouth.” Crack . More blood and half a tooth fly out of Joseph’s mouth. “I warned you, not a fucking word about Quinlan.” The next five blows knock him unconscious. I sink my knee deeper into his ribs, shaking his head until his eyes flutter open. “You’re not dealing with her. You’re dealing with me.”

“With us.” I hear Damien.

“Rome will kill you,” Liam adds. “Then we’ll hunt you all the way down to hell.”

My brothers.

Elaine’s howling now. Her voice is soaked in what I can only imagine is blood. Anne must have hit an artery.

My heart bursts with pride.

“Stop,” Joseph whispers, blood sputtering on his chin. “Stop, Roman.”

“I told you I hate that name.”

I press Joseph’s cheek to the floor, connecting a fist to his ear. His scream is—what a goddamn irony—ear piercing. I repeat the motion, coaxing more agonized cries out of him.

“You, I feel nothing for you.”

My knuckles are painted red. My blood and his. Finally.

Words race to the surface, but each of them is lodged in my throat. A long list of accusations I want him to hear in his final moments. Things he’s ought to apologize for.

They stay there.

Knowing this fucker, it’ll go right over his head. He’ll never experience remorse. His apologies will never be genuine.

For the slightest chance that his last words will terrorize Anne, that he’ll mock her for the pain she had to endure, I shut up.

I obliterate Joseph’s face.

Nose, eye sockets, jaw.

These are for Anne’s protruding ribs that gave me nightmares for years.

I slam my fist to his throat. Don’t let up. Never let up.

Crack . This one went into his temple. It was for Anne’s tears. For each and every one of them.

The hint of a tremor races through my bicep at the excessive force.

I don’t stop, because—

The morning I walked into her room. My little sister chewed on the wall. On a piece of paper from her notebook. Just to have something—anything—to pad her very empty stomach.

“ Stop ,” Joseph groans when I’m taking a break from his face to yank his shoulder out of place. “Kill me, please.”

“Hmm.”

The day he was home early and emptied my bag. He threw away the food Damien or Liam brought me. I saved that for Anne.

I was so skinny. Couldn’t fend for my sister. Before she came into the world, there were days I wished for death. I didn’t understand the meaning of it. I only wanted the constant pain and the humiliation of being neglected to go away.

Until I had another person to look after.

“Stop.”

“Stop?” I laugh. I mock him. I pull out his other shoulder to a nauseating yet oh-so-pleasing cracking sound. “We’re having so much fun, though. Father and son bonding. Why would I ever stop?”

I do have to stop, though, at some point. We’re on a deadline.

“Anne, bring her over here.”

The woman who supported Joseph’s sick, sadistic idea of fun. The pathetic excuse of a mother who called up every favor they had to stop me from becoming Anne’s legal guardian the day I turned eighteen. Joseph punished both Anne and me for entertaining the idea. The bastard locked us in separate rooms, denied us food for three days straight. Didn’t matter that Damien and Liam pounded on the door to our home. Took advantage of the fact that I forbade them from calling the police. Joseph would’ve kicked me out if I did that. That was the only way I could stay close to Anne.

“Come, come, bitch.” Elaine doesn’t put up a fight as Anne drags her the short distance over to me.

Joseph coughs, screams. Of course he does. I’m ruthless, throwing his arms over his head. Holding him down by the wrists. His shoulders must be on fire.

“Throw her on top of his arms.” I look at Anne, my cruelty reflecting in her eyes. “I need them to stay pinned to the floor for this.”

“Yes, brother.” Anne follows my directions.

Elaine—who seems to have passed out—collapses on top of him. He squeals, wriggles his body.

He’s not moving anywhere.

Anne crouches beside me, ignoring Joseph’s curses. “Quinlan said she’d help if we needed her. On the drive over.”

I swallow. Hard. Anne’s considering this. She’s officially welcomed Quinlan to our family. And all it’s taken was, what? An hour together?

It was meant to be. We were meant to be.

“What about you? Do you need her?” I whisper, not letting on how much I do, in fact, need Quinlan. How… wholesome it’d be for her to be a part of it.

My opinion could affect Anne’s answer. And this isn’t just about me. Hasn’t been since I became a big brother.

Anne whirls a lock of hair around her finger. The blood that’s dried on said finger isn’t hers. It’s Elaine’s, and my sister smears it on her hair.

Her eyes aren’t distant, though. She’s present for this. No one’s ever died from temporary insanity, so I guess it’s fine.

More than that. She’s having fun. Yeah, that’s the word for it.

“Need?” Anne pushes the bloodied finger into the hollowed part where Joseph’s arm used to be connected to his body.

He winces, the sadistic fucker, and the movement shifts Elaine on his arms. He screams again at the new pressure.

Good.

“Such a crybaby.” Anne rolls her eyes. “Anyway. I think we’re handling it. Except…” She looks over her shoulder, at the three people behind us. “We’re not alone anymore, Rome. He doesn’t have the power over us, either. We don’t have to do it by ourselves.”

“Anyone interested in fucking them up? With us?” I glance at them, swallowing around the damned emotion in my throat. “They’re still breathing.”

This half-plea, it’s new to me. I hate feeling this raw and vulnerable. To have to ask.

Even though Damien and Liam have been offering it for years. And Quinlan, she stood there in our kitchen this morning picking out a knife for today.

The awkward feeling in my chest lasts for all of a second.

They don’t make it weird. No one comes over with open arms to hug me.

They move. Then they’re there. Liam and Damien crouch at Joseph’s feet. Liam rubs his hands, Damien twists one of Joseph’s feet left and right. Warming up by the looks of it.

“No knives?” Quinlan rounds the two barely alive people, stopping next to me, closer to Joseph’s head. Still standing, she taps her sneaker.

“I can get you one from the kitchen.” Anne’s smile widens.

“You know, I thought I’d need one too. But…” She squats down, talking to Anne with her gaze on me. “Rome taught me a few moves yesterday. I’d like to try them.”

Pride. And love. And this peaceful sense of finality.

“Go right ahead.” I rub her arm. My hand stays there, guiding her, as Quinlan rears her arm back, bending her elbow. Aiming for maximum impact.

“Wait.” Damien’s smirk is so fucking audible, it makes Quinlan giggle.

“What?” Suddenly, I don’t want to be here anymore. I want these people dead. I want the men we hired for this to clean this shit up and be home.

I want Quinlan in one of our beds.

“It’s going to be a good one,” Liam comments. “I can feel it.”

“Talk.” Anne elbows Damien, her eyes glimmering. “I have a husband to get back to.”

“What if we all did it together?” Damien’s eyes bounce between us. “Anne, you kill this bitch up there. Quinlan and Rome, you’re in charge of pretty boy’s face. Liam and I have ankles to break.”

“Oh my God, yes,” Quinlan and Anne high-five while Joseph keeps fading in and out of consciousness.

While he and Elaine bleed out on their precious floors.

“Damien, you’re a genius.” She beams at him.

“Well, I am the one who suggested we kidnap you, so, yeah.” His tone bathes the room in warmth.

“Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry.” Her smile falters when she turns to me. She nibbles on her bottom lip, her hand cupping my cheek. “I’m so rude. I got caught up and forgot to ask. What do you want, Rome?”

My hand’s on her neck, pulling her in for a bruising kiss. A punishing one, for being the least rude, most considerate person I’ve ever met. “I want this. I want us. Together.”

“Good.”

This is what love feels like. This is what home is.

I shake my head, unable to suppress the smile on my lips.

“You did it.” Quinlan traces her fingertip over my wounded knuckles. “I adore you. I love you.”

“I love you.”

“Let’s do this.” Anne looks at us, then at her other two big brothers, Damien and Liam.

We assume our positions.

Anne’s at Elaine’s head, cupping her jaw in a faux-loving grip. She’ll bash her head into the floor until Elaine’s brain drips out. That’s what this hold means.

Quinlan aims for Joseph’s least swollen eye. I’ll land one punch after the other to his chest. Until it stops beating. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll punch a hole through there. Damien and Liam have their hands on each of his ankles.

“Five,” Anne starts.

“Four,” Quinlan goes.

“Three.” It’s Damien.

“Two.” Liam furrows his brow, giving me a reassuring stare.

I return to direct my fist at my aim. “One.”

Bones break. Agonized screams bounce off the walls.

A couple of fuck yeses .

A sonorous end to two miserable lives.

May they never rest in peace.