CHAPTER NINE

SHAW

Letting her settle into her situation and ease the drug out of her, I walk around the broken building that used to be The Priory. There's not much left of it other than the far end where she is. And the area around it is just as barren and empty. Boarded-up buildings, barely any houses to speak of. She might even be in the room that Elias died in. It's the only one that's got a closable door left on it, and that's where Knox said he'd eventually found him. Neck broken, snapped in two. Dead. Gone.

I stare at the rubble and warning signs outside through a single pane of glass that survived the carnage Reed created. That's all that's left of the doors my brothers must have walked through – warnings and wrecked things. It's usually the reverse everywhere they go. They do the damage, and I'm usually included in that. Not this time, though. This time I'm here with some girl while they deal with the kinda crap this family engages with in New York.

I should be there, not here.

It's dark out. Rain's falling heavily and splattering old dust and wreckage like it's attempting to drown the past. Can't drown the fact that my brother – Elias – is dead, though. Nothing can get rid of that memory inside me, and regardless of this fucking annoyance inside me about where I should be, I guess I'm here to avenge that to some degree. I have to be, and I have to think like that. It's the only way Abel sending me here makes any sense to me.

Turning, I walk around layers of old tape masking unsafe area and head back to the healthier part of this framework. Patches of damp ground squelch under my feet, despite it being summer, and I look up to see the sky clearly through the gaping roof. One push in the right direction, and this whole building would crumble down. Maybe that would be a better ending for her than what I'm here to instigate.

Eventually, I arrive at the better end and look through some of the rooms. Stairs lead off to the right, heading downwards. I trial them until I find some cellars still in one piece. Piles of crates line the sides of one room, some with a few bottles of booze inside. I lift one out – brandy. Nice. I take a few gulps and look at makeshift areas like we have back home. All those girls must have been down here, caged up, Miri and Naja included. I wander back up the same stone stairs Carmen would have walked, probably with Elias following her to find the sweetest girl he could have.

The bolted, steel door housing Miri comes into view. It's as blackened from the fire as the walls are, but it survived, as did the interior of the room she's locked inside – as did Abel, Dante and Rachet, thanks to Knox. Not Elias, though.

I slide the bolt and walk in, closing the door behind me. She looks up instantly from her sitting position in the far corner, eyes like slits and confusion shining on her face. "Hello, Miri."

She doesn't respond, just glares at me like I'm the one in the wrong. I'm not. Like Abel said, this around us was all her fault in some respects, and her sister's. I drink from the bottle. I might not like the thought of doing what my brothers do to women like her, but she is the last piece of the puzzle that needs finishing. This building and the memory of what happened here has reminded me of that.

"Guess you know where you are." Still no response, and she watches me like a hawk as I lean on the door and smile at her. "Do you think he died in this room? I wasn't here. Don't know the layout." No movement. No change in her expression either. "Did he touch you? Or am I the first Cortez to get inside you?" If those slits could get any meaner, they just did. "Yeah, that's it, sweetheart. Shaw Cortez. Nice to meet ya." I give her a minute, letting that sink all the way in. She swallows and looks at the wall rather than me for the first time, giving me the first round of nerves to play with. "I thought you'd be a harder target given your past. But you spread those legs for a stranger easy enough, didn't you?"

I crouch down so I'm in her eyeline. "I think we'll do that again before I take you home. I mean, if Elias didn't get inside you, you should at least feel what he would have done to you, don't you think? I should do that for him. And if he did, it should be him you remember this time round, not me." I pause, picking my words. "Shame, really, you were a good fuck the way we did it last time. Sweet as cotton candy. You won't like this next time. No one ever did when he fucked them."

I stand again and watch her rise up with me. She tries taking a solid stance, but those legs aren't back to functional yet. He'd laugh at that, not question what the hell he was doing like I am.

She spreads her arms out to the wall for balance and looks at me, then the door. "There's no getting out, sweetheart. You won't get through me."

Another swallow, and she looks back at the ground. "I don't understand why you're doing this. We had dinner. You were nice."

"Because of that C carved into your foot. You must remember that. It means owned."

A sneer crosses her face. "They stole us off the street. No one owns me." She shakes her head like she's trying to see clearly. "Never."

Not a thing changes about my face or my intent here. "I own you. My brothers own you. Elias owned you. Even my goddamn sister owns you if she feels like it. That's the way this goes."

She staggers forward, finger pointed. "NO ONE OWNS ME!"

My dick's awake instantly at her pissed tone, and the speed of me getting over to her and grabbing hold happens like a fucking ghost whispering by. I sneer and latch on, spinning her until she's shoved up close to the wall and whimpering. "My fucking brother died because of you. Reed killed him because of your sister and then blew up this place to try killing the rest of my family. If you think I'm letting you talk to melike I'm the piece of shit here, you're very fucking wrong." I force my hand between her thighs and grab on to her pussy, pulling her ass back into me. "What was your number back then?" She shakes her head and keeps her mouth closed. "Fine, we'll fuck it out of you, then."

She struggles and tries pushing me off her, but she's no match for me in this mood, especially not with that drug still inside her. Her pants get ripped down across her ass, and I'm sinking my fingers straight inside her the moment I can. She shouts and swipes a hand back at me, her arms flailing as she tries to fight, so I tackle both until they're in my grip and held tight behind her back. A few more shoves and moves, and she's face down in the dirt, and I'm lining up to show her what Elias would have done to her.

"How could you?" she whispers, choking on a sob. "I don't deserve this."

I don't listen. Her head gets crushed up to the wall, so I know she's cornered in, and before I think about anything, or consider what I'm doing, I start getting my dick out. She keeps shouting until that turns to pleading for me not to do this. I don't care. Not this time. This time it"s all about a dead brother, and it's not long before I'm balls deep, and she's silent as a fucking mouse.

I fuck hard and without mercy, all the time thinking of him and the fact that it might have happened right here in this room. Every drive in turns into an incensed need to visualise that so this makes sense somehow. I'm almost fighting with her, overpowering the problem. She shakes the whole time, grunting each time I jolt in harder. Her face and neck crush further into the wall, knees high under her so I've got free access, and I watch the scratches start bedding into her skin from the sharp ground. Elias would laugh now. He'd get revved right up and find a new way to torture her.

"Did he fuck you?" I wrench her arm up to me, twisting her body so I can see her face clearly. Glassy eyes look back up at me, light reems of blood coming from the scratches. "Did he?" I push her, changing the angle so I can finish myself off and watch her fear like he would have. "Tell me!" No fucking response, so I keep ramming home, panting out my frustration, until I cum, and she's nothing but a used hole on the floor.

Swallowing and sneering, I pull out and watch the cum seep from her. She stays just like I've left her for a minute – ass up, knees awkward against the grounduntil she eventually tries pulling her panties and pants up.

I tuck my spent dick away. "What was your number?" She still doesn't speak, so I reach for her shoes and pants and drag them all the way off her. She moves slowly, trying to cover herself. "Again, what was your number?" Because I can't use her name anymore. A name means something, and she can't mean a damn thing to me. Like she wouldn't have done to him. She just stares, so I start ripping at clothes until she's fully naked, enraged with some Cortez nature that doesn't usually belong in me. She doesn't even struggle this time, just lets me. I pick them all up and hold them there, taunting her with them. "Maybe you can have something to cover your ass when you learn some fucking manners and answer my questions." She looks at the ground, refusing eye contact at all.

Fine. We've got time.

I back out of the room, picking my brandy up on the way, and slam the steel in front of me. The lock gets thrown and bolted, and I dump her clothes on the ground. One last glance at her shivering in the corner, and I turn to walk from the space. I don't even know what that was, let alone how I feel about what I've just done.

Some part of me finds justification in avenging my brother, but the other is lost in some deep-seated rage about treating her that way because of something long done. It just came, though. It rose through me like a wave of hatred for anyone who dares tell me what I do is wrong. I've tried right – tried fighting the inevitability of my family. Doesn't work. Never has.

Half a bottle of brandy later, whilst listening to her tears from outside the room, my phone rings. I look at it from my place on this dirty step on the stairs. Abel. I pick it up, put it on speaker, and lean my head on the wall. "Yeah."

"Have you got her?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Where is she?"

I look across the dark corridor to her room. "We're back where it started. At what's left of The Priory."

He chuckles, deep and rumbled. "Nice touch. That's much more like a Cortez." I frown and take another swill on my brandy. "I'll make arrangements and get in touch tomorrow, and then we can get this bitch dealt with and get you to New York."

"What does ‘dealt with' mean?"

"Sold. I don't want her anywhere near us." Why the fuck am I hunting her ass down then? I look back across the corridor. Could've just left her free.

"Who's the buyer?"

"Why does that matter? We're getting rid of dead weight. Gotta make some profit and clean house around here. I'm reorganising. Putting everything in place."

"Yeah, Okay."

The phone cuts out. Conversation over, apparently. Fine. I'll just do as I'm damn well told again, yeah? I snort, pissed with myself, him, and the situation I'm in. It should be easier to treat women like crap by now. It isn't.