Home > Seeking Vengeance(4)

Seeking Vengeance(4)
Author: Eden Summers

“What did they do to her?” I raise my gaze to Cole.

His cold eyes are already fixed on my face. “We can discuss it once the children are settled elsewhere.”

“Why?” I frown, glancing from my brother, to Anissa, then Sarah and Hunter. All the people before me stare back without emotion. There’s no jubilation. No celebration. Not even anger over what must have happened to claim victory. “What did they do to her?”

I drag my gaze farther to little Tobias who now stands at Penny’s side, his arms around her hips, his tortured gaze on me.

There’s no relief in his expression. Not even a glimpse of happiness at being returned to his family.

Something is wrong.

Something is very, very wrong.

“What the hell did they do?” I demand.

“Let me take her for a while.” Penny steps forward.

“No.” I cling tighter to the precious gift in my lap.

“Do it, Layla,” Cole mutters. “Penny can take Tobias and Stella into my room.” He jerks his head to the open door a few yards behind him. “This won’t take long.”

“This?” I haul myself to my feet, carrying my daughter with me.

“Just do it, for fuck’s sake,” Cole snaps. “Now.”

I balk at his viciousness, but I’m not surprised. I’d wondered how long it would take for his pity to wear off. I’d mistakenly thought I’d have more time. That maybe I could find my feet not just in this room, but in life, before he fed me the animosity I deserve.

I close my eyes, continuing to rock as I place a kiss to Stella’s forehead. I can’t let her go. I never want to let her go ever again.

“It’s okay.” Penny reaches for her, Tobias still at her side. “She’s safe. I promise.”

A garbled cry clogs my throat as I admit defeat and hand my daughter over. Releasing her soft body after everything she’s been through is akin to being gutted. Neck to pelvis. Hip to hip.

Nausea comes back with a vengeance as Penny cradles Stella’s limp form in her arms, carrying her to the bedroom with a subdued Tobias following close behind.

I watch every step. Every movement.

When the bedroom door closes behind them, I struggle against the impulse to collapse into a fit of hysterical tears. I don’t have that luxury though. I never have. Torians don’t show weakness. We’re not allowed to falter.

“Tell me.” I straighten my shoulders and suck in a measured breath as I turn to face everyone. Flakes of dry blood cover my top, the gore threatening to break me. “What the hell did those monsters do to her, Cole?”

My brother’s expression wavers, the animosity fracturing to expose something that holds a hint of sympathy.

Oh, God.

I scan the faces of those by his sides. Anissa lowers her gaze to the carpet. Luca’s eyes are bloodshot and glistening with unshed tears. Keira’s are, too. She knows something I don’t. Something that must have been shared while I was lost in the reunion with my precious baby girl.

“Tell me.” I glance from one person to the next—Sarah, Hunter, Decker—seeking out my husband. I reach the end of the semi-circle of friends and family without catching sight of his dark eyes.

“Benji?” I trek my attention back the other way—Decker, Hunter, Sarah, Keira, Luca, Anissa, and finally, Cole. “Where is he?”

Cole’s chin hitches as if he’s stealing himself for an upcoming onslaught.

“Where is my husband?” Icy dread slithers down my spine, catching on every nerve.

He has to be parking the car. Packing our things. Checking out at reception.

Keira whimpers, decimating my wishful thinking.

“Where’s Benji?” My voice fractures, emotion tightening my vocal cords. “Why isn’t he here?”

“He’s gone, Lay.”

Cole’s calm words steal the air from my chest in a massive upheaval, the oxygen stripping itself from my lungs with jagged claws.

“No.” I shake my head.

My husband and I were guilty of horrible things. Of traitorous, treacherous acts. But he wouldn’t have fled from his punishment. He wouldn’t have left me and Stella behind.

“You forced him to run?” It’s hard to get the question out. Even harder to understand him leaving without saying goodbye. “Where did he go?”

Luca lowers his attention to the carpet and sniffs with a hard swipe of his hand over his nose. His fingers are stained with remnants of blood. More faint splotches mark his dark shirt.

I shake my head again, fighting the whispers in my mind telling me that a hardened man like Luca wouldn’t cry over his brother skipping town.

“No.” I suck in gasps. One after another without relief. I’m suffocating. Drowning in the karma I knew would come my way.

“He’s dead.” Cole steps forward, his face bleak as he opens his arms and envelops me in his hold.

“No.” I batter his chest. “You’re lying. You’re doing this to punish me.”

How had I not noticed Benji didn’t return? I hadn’t spared him a thought. My focus had been on Stella. On our baby girl he went to rescue.

“They shot him. He couldn’t be saved,” Cole whispers the horror in my ear. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

A sob escapes, my eyes searing with a firestorm of tears.

I heave for breath, for understanding, pummeling and scratching at my brother’s suit-covered chest as my legs threaten to give out.

“Don’t cry.” He continues to hold me, but those words are nothing more than a formality. No warmth exudes from him—only sterility. “Don’t cry, Layla,” he whispers. “We both know tears are a privilege for those who lack guilt.”

 

 

3

 

 

Layla

 

 

Present day

 

 

I cross my hands on the bar and stare at the gloss scratched from the wood, wishing the crevices held the insight to get me out of here.

“All I want is answers,” the man mutters from the stool beside me.

“And I gave them to you. I like sitting near the window. Most people do.”

“Most people don’t eavesdrop on neighboring conversations the entire time. Most people would sit with their back to the wall, not the room. And most people wouldn’t hang around until the exact moment the patrons behind them left.”

My cheeks heat. No matter how hard I concentrate on measuring my breathing and remaining calm, my skin doesn’t stop burning, potentially exposing my guilt.

“You’d want to start talking, sunshine.” His endearment is far from kind. “Why are you here? Who do you work for?”

So much for being discreet. Turns out my presence held the blinding discretion of tractor beams. But still, I’ve done nothing wrong. I overheard a conversation. I haven’t broken any laws.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I slide from the stool. “And I’m done pandering to your paranoia. Like I told you, I have somewhere else I need to be.”

The man follows, his shoulders broadening, yet again blocking my escape route. He doesn’t look at me, though. He stares over my shoulder, those icy eyes focusing on something behind me.

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