Page 164 of Pack Frenzy
But this time, I'm not alone on a cruise ship or trapped in a transport van.
And I know without a doubt if we don’t win this, he’s going to come after me. Bad news for him, I know how to protect myself, my dad made sure of that. And I’ve got my men with me.
I meet his eyes and don’t look away. He can see exactly what he didn’t destroy.
The gavel drops. “Court will recess until the verdict.”
The room erupts—reporters rushing, murmurs breaking like waves. I stand on shaky legs.
Mom pulls me into her arms, trembling. “She fought,” she whispers. “Your sister fought.”
“I know,” I breathe. “I know.”
Dad’s arms wrap around us. His breath shakes against my shoulder, ragged like he’s been holding it for years.
For a long time he doesn’t say anything. Then he pulls back, tears in his eyes. Nothing’s ever scared him. Never seen him cry except when Sabrina went missing.
His jaw works the way it always does when he’s trying to swallow something hard. “I failed her,” he says, and the words tear out like they’ve been chewed. “I didn’t teach her how to fight. Thought family meant safety and my connections would keep all of you safe.”
Mom’s shoulders shake against his chest. She’s crying in that flat, steady way that’s less noise than grief.
“After she disappeared I… I buried myself. Work. Business. Anything to keep from looking at you, because every time I saw you I saw her. Saw what I didn’t do.”
All those years I blamed him in half-formed ways. Now I see the weight he carried.
He breathes out something that could be anger or apology. “I made sure whatever happened to her wouldn’t happen to you. That you’d be prepared. Paid for the best instructors who would hammer how to defend yourself into you until you could take a man twice your size down and still run.”
I remember. The bruises that looked like training marks, the classes he paid cash for, the old man who taught me to throw a blade until my wrist bled. He did it because he couldn’t fix what had already happened.
“You did what you could,” I tell him. “You got me ready. And it did save me.” I think about the bad boyfriends and guys thatdidn’t take no for an answer. How I was able to bloody Blake’s nose when he tried to grab me at the anime convention.
His laugh is a rasp. “Not enough.” His hands clamp the sides of my shoulders like he’s holding me so I won’t fall through the floor. “Not enough to save her.”
“She fought dad,” I whisper. “So much so that Blake told me I was a wildcat like her. She made him have to have surgery to cover it up.” Saying it loud makes the room tilt a little less.
“Not enough,” he repeats, but this time his voice hardens into something that sounds like a contract. The shift is small—an old muscle tightening—but I know it. The look in his eyes is not courtroom-threat; it’s the cold business edge I’ve seen a hundred times. “He will pay.” His voice drops to something quiet and absolute. "If the courts fail us, there are other ways to balance scales.” His eyes are dry now, but they hold something harder than tears. "No one touches my daughters and keeps breathing. Not anymore."
The promise hangs between us, heavy and inevitable. I should be afraid. Instead, I feel a fierce, ugly relief. My dad won’t let this stand. That is both terrifying and exactly what I need right now.
I lean into him and let myself be kid-Jess for a minute: held, forgiven, small. Safe, if only for now.
Even if it’s seven years too late for Sabrina.
Rowan, Cassian, and Eli wait for me to untangle from my parents. Cassian’s voice reaches me, low and certain. “Blake will have this follow him the rest of his life, no matter the outcome. That’s what matters.”
“He won’t live long,” my father whispers, his Italian accent thick.
I nod, unable to speak.
Through the courthouse windows, the press vans parked like vultures, the flash of cameras catching the first ripple of justice.Blake and his father will face sentencing soon. Nexus will burn for what it did.
For Sabrina. For Meredith. For all of us.
Rowan’s hand settles at the small of my back. “Let’s get some air.”
Outside, cold air hits my face. Clouds break open above the courthouse dome, light spilling through like something finally giving way.
It’s not peace. Not yet.
