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Her eyes narrowed. “What are you saying Rory?”
“We killed him,” I blurted out. “Or at least, we think we did. It’s all a bit fuzzy, what with the drinking and all. But he wasn’t moving when weleft. In fact, I remember he wasn’t breathing either.”
She opened her mouth then closed it again. She shook her head, auburn hair catching the light. “This isn’t funny Rory.”
I looked to see Wren and Connor both had their eyes glued to us, with their mouths hanging open. They were no help. I sighed.
“Trust me, I’m not laughing,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “Look, we were drunk, we went to the house—”
“My grandfather’s house,” she interrupted.
“Right, your grandfather’s house,” I nodded. “And things... happened.”
Kat’s eyes flashed dangerously. “Things happened? That’s all you’ve got?”
I held up my hands defensively. “Hey, Declan would have probably told you… on second thought he would have gotten me to do it anyway. But he’s on the phone with the hospital now, something must be wrong with Tomas.”
She leaned forward, her voice low and intense. “So let me get this straight. I thought I killed my grandfather, but it turns out you two idiots got there first and did the job for me?”
I chuckled. “That’s... one way of putting it, yeah.”
Kat let out a laugh that was more like a strangled sob. “Jesus Christ, what kind of fucked up family did I get myself into?”
I couldn’t help but grin. “Welcome to the Clan love. It’s all uphill from here. I promise.”
“Get in the car Rory,” Declan said, walking around to the passenger side. He got in and slammed his door closed. “Change of plans, we are not going to Nevada.”
“Why not?” Wren asked.
“Because that was the hospital. Dad has escaped, and they have no idea where he is. Head home.”
Chapter 24
Kat
When Wren pulled up to the estate, my mind was still reeling from everything that happened. The revelation about my grandfather’s death, the chaos at the warehouse, and now Tomas on the loose - it was almost too much to process. But there was no time to dwell on it. We had a job to do.
Declan and Wren were headed to the hospital after they dropped Connor, Rory and me off. While we walked toward the house, Rory’s arm was around me the whole time. Despite everything, I couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through my body at his touch.
We stood in front of the stairs leading down into the basement, and he looked at me with concern in his eyes. “You should take a break and get some rest,” he suggested. “We still need to go out on the lower patio for this.”
I shook my head stubbornly. “I’m fine, I justwant it to be finished.”
He nodded. “Fair enough.”
He motioned for me to follow, and we went downstairs, through the entertainment room to the bay of French doors. Through the glass we could see that Marcus sat under a light already tied to a chair, with two buckets set on the patio stones beside him. His face was a mess of bruises and dried blood as Chris and Max stood guard, looking grim. I felt a twinge of pity for Marcus, quickly followed by disgust as I remembered what he’d done.
Rory stepped aside when he opened the door, allowing me to proceed, but I stopped within a few feet once outside, sticking to the shadows. “Let’s make this quick,” he growled, grabbing a bucket of water. “We need answers, and we need them now.”
I watched as Chris and Max tilted the chair back that Marcus sat on, then covered his face with a cloth. My stomach flip flopped as Marcus started thrashing and choking beneath the fabric as Rory poured water onto it. I wanted to look away, to yell at them to quit, but I knew this was necessary. These were the ugly realities of the mafia world.
After what felt like an eternity, Marcus managed to gasp out, “Stop! Please, I’ll talk!”
Rory yanked the cloth away and stepped back, a look of cold determination upon his face. “The code in the notebook. What does it mean?”
Marcus coughed and sputtered, his eyes wild with fear. “It’s... it’s a ledger. Every woman we’ve trafficked to Volkov. Their ages, physical descriptions, special ‘skills’... and how much he paid for each one.”
I felt bile rise in my throat. “You sick bastard,” I spat, my fists clenching at my sides as I stepped into the light.
