Page 101 of Shattered Souls
With a curt nod, Dax’s gaze slides to a large, metal, heavy-set door on the far side of the basement. “She’s in there. Room is soundproof. Do whatever you want; my guys will deal with the cleanup.”
His inference is clear, and Riley shivers at my side. Still, she doesn’t contradict him, which says everything about where her head is at. The same blood-soaked place as mine, apparently.
Dax leaves us to it as we turn to face the door he pointed out. Before I can take a step toward it, Riley is striding forward. Shoulders squared, her head is held high as she steps between crates and boxes piled haphazardly. Fierce determination gleams in her eyes, a fire that refuses to be extinguished despite everything she’s been through.In spiteof everything, she’s survived.
This world might try to break her, but my girl is un-fucking-breakable.
I can’t help but admire her strength and bravery as I walk behind her, sporting a hard-on.Not exactly the time,I tell my dick. Not that he’s listening. Riley’s courage is hot as fuck. Her iron will to keep going is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Thatfight. That strength to get up and throw another punch when all you want to do is tap out.
Riley pauses at the entrance, just for a second, her grim determination unwavering. She’s ready for this confrontation, even if it means facing some of her darkest fears. I step closer, my heat enveloping her in a silent reminder that she’s not alone. That I’m here—we’rehere. No matter what happens in there. She glances over her shoulder, those captivating eyes meeting mine as a small smile lifts her lips. I nod, and she faces the door, which looks like it leads to a walk-in freezer once more. It is with a sense of pride that I watch her take a deep breath before pulling on the handle.
We follow her into the room, purpose-built for precisely this reason. Why Dax needs a soundproofed interrogation room is none of my business. I’m certainly not about to complain about the convenience. Unlike the rest of the basement, the light is startlingly bright, and I blink as black spots dance across my vision. When they finally clear, I look around the tiled room, the stench of bleach and an underlying hint of rust assaulting my nostrils.
Lydia is sitting on a metal chair in the center of the room, her wrists bound in front of her and a blindfold over her eyes. A drain sits beneath her seat. Her head is slightly tilted, and her ear is strained in our direction. Goosebumps pebble her exposed skin—of which there is plenty since her short dress fails to cover her—and the chair rattles from her shaking so hard.
“W-who’s there?”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to ask questions,” I drawl. We decided before we got here that I would take the lead, at least initially.
Her lips purse, a crease forming along her forehead before she asks, voice shaking even more than before, “R-ruthless? I-is that you?”
“I see you’re just as useless at taking orders as the last time we spoke.” My voice is rough and harsh, my tone like the crack of a whip that has Lydia cringing in her seat.
Standing over her, I stare down at her pathetic form, unfeeling. I don’t have an ounce of sympathy for this piece of shit as I recall everything she’s done, everything she allowed to happen. My gaze strains toward Riley, but I keep my attention focused on the sniveling woman before me, knowing if I catch sight of Riley’s expression, I’ll likely murder this bitch before Riley gets what she needs off her chest.
“I-I haven’t done anything,” she whines.
Leaning down, I bring my lips to her ear. “Haven’t you?” She shuffles on her seat, trying to put as much distance between us until she’s perched right on the edge of the chair. Her lips part, likely with another protest, but I cut her off before more bullshit can spew from her mouth. “I’d think real hard about your answer because I can’t tolerate any more lies from you.”
Her lips snap shut.
“Does the name VincentKnucklesFisher ring any bells?” Lydia’s entire posture stiffens. “Ah, I’ll take that as a yes.” My voice is a velvet purr dripping with malintent.
“I-if he was one of y-yours, I-I didn’t know!” Her panicked, shrill grates on my ears.
“Oh no, he wasn’t one of mine,” I state with a malicious chuckle. “But the girl you sent him after?” I snarl. “She’smine.”
I whip off her blindfold. She blinks in the stark light, her wide-eyed, frenzied gaze darting around the room as what little color remained in her cheeks drains. Finally, she spots the others standing behind me. Recognition flashes across her face, quickly followed by confusion and a fresh wave of terror. “G-Grayson? R-Riley? I don’t—What’s going on?”
“What’s going on, Lydia, is that you thought you could hire some amateur dipshit to take outmy girl.”
“Ourgirl,” Grayson corrects automatically—possessive jerk.
At the sound of his voice, Lydia’s attention snaps to where he is standing with his arms crossed, looking bored as all hell. What he is is furious. It’s there in the tick of his jaw and the tense way he holds himself, as though he’s fighting to keep from coming over here and slapping the bitch.I can totally relate.“G-Grayson.” There’s a pleading in Lydia’s voice as she repeats his name. “H-help me. I don’t know what he’s talking about. This has all been some sort of mistake! A-an attempt to e-extort money from your father.”
Grayson snorts, his arms crossed over his lean chest. “Believe me, Lydia. None of us are interested in my dad’s dirty money.”
A soft touch at my back has me stepping aside so Riley can take my place in front of her mother.
“What we want is retribution.” Her voice is steel, and I’m so fucking proud of her.
“Riley.” For the first time, Lydia’s tone has a haughty snap. “This is absurd. What have you roped these boys into?”
Grayson and Logan bristle while I clear my throat in a clear warning. Lydia’s shoulders curve in, her wary gaze flashing to mine before darting back to her daughter. “R-ruthless is a dangerous man. You shouldn’t be associating with the likes of him.”
Riley throws her head back in a caustic laugh that feels like broken glass embedding beneath my skin. Dropping her gaze back to her mother, she tilts her head to one side. “Says the woman who hired him tosell my daughter!” Her last words come out in a scream that bounces off the white tiles.
Lydia’s face drains of color. Riley notices, her cackle at the turn of events something deranged yet cathartic. “Oh yeah. We know all about how you sold your only fucking grandchild on the black-fucking-market because you’re a heartless, twisted bitch.”
