Page 82 of Retribution
Rowan asks, “Why do the authorities believe it was the work of vigilantes?”
April replies, “Above the bodies, there was a set of blood-red lips spray-painted on the wall, drips hanging down from them, like a bloody kiss.”
Rowan mock shivers for the audience. “Very creepy indeed! And do the authorities have any idea who they might be?”
April smiles back at him. “No, Rowan, none. It’s not a tag that’s ever been seen before.”
Switching off the TV, a frown forms as my mind races. I’m sure I’ve seen something like that before. Where? A wisp of a thought passes through my mind, and I pull out my “Deceased” file. Rifling through it, I come across a picture of a mirror found in a foreclosed house once belonging to Robert and Presley Harrison. Tessa Harrison’s parents.
And upon that mirror was a bloody kiss.
Sitting for a moment, I let the implications run over me. Tessa is alive. I knew she had to have help bringing down her abusers, and at the time, I suspected that he or she was a powerful hacker. A hacker that would be able to manipulate the security system at New Beginnings. Spinning my chair around, I face the windows, unseeing as each puzzle piece slots together.
Vincenzo Gianelli is suspected to either have ties to the international organization, or possibly to be in charge of it altogether. I’m leaning towards the latter. Vincenzo—Dutch’s father. Who she’s been trying to take down. And his suspected ties to Tony and Dolores D’Angelo—Rebecca. Talk about six degrees of separation.
I finger the picture, tracing over the bloody kiss. I get it now. How it all works, how everything that happened did so in just a way to ensure vengeance for the aggrieved parties.
A sense of peace envelops me, and smiling to myself, I shred the picture—the last remaining evidence. Then I walk over to my private bathroom and flush it.
Chapter 46
Trey
One Week After The Shooting
The harsh scent of antiseptic and the incessant beeping of a heart monitor pull me reluctantly from the dark embrace of nothingness. My eyes flutter open, my gaze blurry and unfocused.
A vague shape leans over me, and I groan as his visage comes into focus. His lips curl into a smirk as the darkness reaches up, dragging me back under with only the barest of thoughts reaching through my muddled mind.
What the fuck is he doing here?
***
One Month Later
“Well, well, well. Look who’s finally decided to join the land of the living.”
Blinking, I take in the room around me, and the dick sitting in the chair next to the bed I’m lying on.Fuck, I thought that had been a dream.
“Sorry, Unseen, no such luck. Definitely not a dream.”
Fuck off, asshole.
“Nope.”
Shit.
Nate sighs and shakes his head, those weird as fuck eyes of his holding a trace of humor as he looks me over. “Looking a bit better, Trey. It was touch and go for a while.”
Taking a proper look around, I realize that I’m no longer in a hospital. It looks more like a bedroom, with walls painted a pale cream, and burgundy curtains framing the large sash windows overlooking—
“London? The fuck am I doing in London?” I rasp out, my throat sore and hoarse. Panic washes through me at the sight of the parliament buildings showcased perfectly by the framed windows.
Going to lift my arm, it takes me a second to realize that I’m strapped down, and fury descends. Struggling against the restraints, I send a glare at Nate, who watches dispassionately with a raised brow.
Pain lances through my chest at the movements, and I blow out deep breaths, trying to calm my rage and panic. My heart thunders in my chest, and I wonder why Nate hasn’t killed me yet.
After all, he did promise to do so if he ever saw me again.
