Page 124 of Brutal Truths

The ladies are on the ground next to the man I tried to shoot. Recognition hits instantly.

Quentin fucking Drake.

Isabel is doing what she does best—fixing him. Anna holds a knife to his throat, while Gabriela supports where she can.

No immediate threat.

Good.

My attention shifts to the body on the floor. He’s done. The bullet through his skull made sure of that. No coming back from that. Serves him right for all the shit Drake caused.

A few steps bring me closer, but I don’t interrupt them. They have this under control. The fucker is talking, hanging on to Isabel like she’s his lifeline. Too bad that as soon as he’s done spilling secrets, I’ll put a bullet in his head to match the one in his uncle’s.

Isabel slaps him hard across the face to keep him from passing out.

A quiet, humorless chuckle builds in my chest. She’s done. Not about to let this fucker get away with making her life a living hell.

He keeps talking, and every word out of his mouth pushes me closer to ending him. He set up Lawrence, who we still don’t know if he’ll make it. Destroyed Isabel’s closest friend. Trinity is traumatized. Her life will never be the same again.

That’s more than enough to end him.

The truth underneath it, that’s the reason he’s not walking away.

He did it because he’s obsessed with my woman. Planned to take her. Keep her.

That earns him his death warrant.

“Slaves do as they are told, or they get punished for disobeying their master.”

His words have me seeing red. Feet already moving with one clear intent. End him to ensure he never gets a chance to make good on that threat.

I’m three steps in, when Isabel moves first. Grabs the gun at her side, aiming it. But she never gets the shot off.

Anna steps in. One swift slice. Clean. Final. Blood spills across the marble floor.

The need to kill him dies; it’s replaced with something far more powerful, and brought on by the woman who breaks right in front of me.

A scream tears out of her as she beats her fists into his chest. Again and again. No control. No restraint.

“You don’t own me! You never will!” She hits him harder. “You hear me? Never! I hate you. Rot in hell, you bastard!”

Each word hits heavier than the last, rage bleeding out of her in violent bursts. She’s gone, completely over the edge, and if I don’t pull her back soon, there’s no telling how far she’ll fall.

Closing the distance takes seconds. My arms wrap around her, dragging her back, locking her body against mine. She fights. Elbows. Fist. Nails. Anything she can use. What she can’t give him anymore she throws at him.

“Let me go! I’m not finished. He doesn’t get to say that and just die!”

Teeth grit as I take every hit without flinching, tightening my hold just enough to keep her from breaking free.

“Isabel,” I murmur low against her ear, steady even when she’s anything but. “He’s done. It’s over. He’s never touching you again.”

The words don’t stop her right away, but they slow her. Bit by bit, the fight drains, the sharp edge of rage cracking under the weight of everything crashing in behind it.

Then she turns and clings to me. Wraps her arms and legs around me like I’m the only thing keeping her grounded.

My eyes lock with her sister’s. One nod. Enough.

I spin around and march us straight to the lift. No stopping. No looking back.