Unraveled: Chapter 19

This is probably the most challenging decision I’ve ever had to make. I’m staring at a stack of files, and I can recite every name mentioned by heart.

Timothy Sutherland. Leroy Jones. Samantha Vanguard. Hillary Rose. Kira Ward.

And the list goes on.

I’ve been going through these for weeks, looking at photographs and reading the horrific details of each case.

I know we’re hardly saints, but there are bigger monsters than us out there in this fucked-up world. It’s no wonder parents don’t let their children play in parks anymore or ride their bicycles to the grocery store around the corner.

Fathers no longer show their daughters any sort of affection in public out of fear it might be misinterpreted, and moms rush their kids home whenever an old man on the street hands out candy. Society has been mind-fucked by countless heinous acts of psychopaths, not just killing and hurting our children but destroying trust in humanity. It’s because our world is sick. It’s festering, rotting from its core, and killing the good one gruesome act at a time—one psycho fuck at a time.

Leaders and philanthropists spend their time and money trying to find ways to stop global warming while our children are targets for the sickest motherfuckers that live and breathe among us. Why the fuck bother saving the planet when we can’t save our children? And why are the rich so obsessed with making Mars habitable? So we can fuck up that planet too?

Good God, the negativity is pouring out of me like toxic vapor.

“Our uncle sure had to pull a fuckton of strings to make this happen.” I lean back in my chair.

Caelian swirls the ice in his tumbler. “He probably took it up the ass more than once.”

“So, what do you want to do?” Maximo leans against the wall, arms crossed in front of his chest.

“I don’t know.” I pull a palm down my face. “This is not just business. It’s personal. Really fucking personal.”

“Let me do it.” Nicoli takes a long drag of his cigarette, the tip lighting up with golden embers. “I’m feeling a little tense tonight, and disemboweling someone always lets me work off some steam.”

Caelian grimaces. “Psycho freak.”

Isaia stands by the window, staring at nothing but the black night. He hasn’t said a word since we closed my office door. It’s a lot to take in, especially since he has a personal investment in this, too.

“Isaia, what do you think?” I swivel my chair to face him straight.

He doesn’t turn around, and his shoulders move as he breathes. “Did he touch her?”

I shift in my seat. “She got away before he could.”

“He didn’t hurt her?”

“Not physically. Emotionally, they both screwed her up good.”

Finally, he turns and leans back against the windowsill. I can practically smell the rage oozing out of him. His leather jacket creaks as he straightens his arms, fingers clutching the ledge. “I think you and I both know what needs to be done.”

A knowing look passes between us, and my insides coil. “Yeah. We do.”

“Are you two fucking insane?” Nicoli cuts his glare between Isaia and me. “She’s pregnant. You can’t dump this shit on her now. I say we deal with it, and she never has to know.”

“I love your plan, brother. I really do,” I say. “There’s nothing I want more than to finish this and not drag her into it. More than anything, I want to protect her—”

“Then don’t fucking tell her. It’s not rocket science, man.”

“I’ve already taken too many choices away from her. I can’t do that again, especially not with something like this.”

“That’s bullshit!” Nicoli shoots to his feet, his eyes blazing. “We make the hard decisions to protect the people we love. If keeping them safe and out of harm’s way means we have to choose for them, then that’s what we do. We get our hands dirty, brother, and we do fucked-up shit without blinking for the ones we care for. If it means they hate us, then so fucking be it because all that matters is keeping them safe!” His voice slams like thunder against the walls, and everyone’s staring at him, staggered because Nicoli hardly ever loses his shit like he just did.

I lean with my elbows on my desk. “Where the hell is this coming from?”

Nicoli’s nostrils flare, and there’s a brief glance between him and Maximo, and suspicion prickles the back of my neck. But whatever it is, it has to wait.

I get up and button my suit jacket. “Believe me, no one is more concerned about her well-being than I am, and no matter how much I want to make this decision for her,” I glance at Isaia, and he nods his approval, “I can’t. Not this time.”

Leandra

“Leandra?”

I look up and find Alexius filling the entryway with his large frame, his black suit and tie casting a spotlight of authority over him. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Sure.”

I push the wrapped present to the side and smile at Mira before walking over to him. He places a gentle hand at the curve of my back, and I suck in a breath only to have it burst from my lungs when Alexius pushes me up against the wall, pressing his lips hard against mine, kissing me hard, his tongue breaking through the crease of my lips and sweeping through my mouth.

“Mmm,” I groan into our kiss, struggling to keep my legs steady. I can hardly think straight while he’s kissing me stupid, his hand sliding up the back of my thigh, squeezing my ass in his palms, and lightly nipping my bottom lip between his teeth.

“What was that for?” I murmur breathlessly.

His finger traces along the curve of my jaw, his forehead touching mine. “Do you trust me?”

“Well, that’s a loaded question,” I tease, but he levels me with his stern gaze, and my stomach turns. “What’s going on?”

“I know I’ve hardly given you any reason to, but I need to know if you trust me.”

“That depends.” I search his eyes. “Are you planning on locking me up again?”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He lowers his head, watching as he smooths the fabric of my shirt between his fingers. “I’m serious, stray. There’s something I need to show you.” His dark brows knit together, his blue eyes stern, his cheeks sharp and carved. “But first, I need to know if you trust me.”

“Alexius, you’re scaring me.”

“For once, I want to do the right thing when it comes to you.” He pulls his lips back in a snarl, hissing as he places his hand on my chest, his fingers touching the base of my throat. The tendons in his neck are strained, the thick vein pulsing fast. I can’t tell if he’s angry or anxious. Maybe both. “No matter how I feel about it or how badly I want to make this decision for you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Goddammit!”

With a jerk, he pulls away, turns his back on me, and paces. I have no idea what the hell is going on, but I’m scared. Warning sets my nerves alight, fear twisting my stomach. “Alexius.”

“Leandra. Do you. Trust me?” His eyes flash with an urgency that penetrates my bones, his features solemn but stern. Whatever is happening, it’s serious, and it has my husband more on edge than I’ve ever seen him.

“Yes,” I breathe out. “I trust you.”

Our gazes lock, and I’m not sure if it’s a relief or fear I see within the blue shades of his eyes. He holds out his hand for me to take, and I place my palm in his, his fingers gently closing, then squeezing lightly. “I need to show you something.”

“I don’t know if I should be nervous or scared right now.”

“Just—” He presses his lips together and touches my cheek. “Trust your gut.”

I’m trying to keep my breathing steady as I follow him, his hand clutching mine tightly. We’re walking through the foyer, past the steps to the back of the house and down a long corridor. With every step, my heart beats faster, and my senses heighten. There’s an energy around Alexius, and I can’t place it. But whatever it is, it’s radiating off him in waves that make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

The corridor leads to a black door at the far end, a gold-plated doorknob glinting under the fading light. It’s one of those doors you see in horror movies, the ones that lead to a basement filled with torture devices and dead bodies.

I’m shaking by the time we reach the door, and I’m sure my heart skips a beat when Alexius turns the knob, the latch clicking open, revealing a flight of stairs leading downward, with dim lights against the walls.

“You okay?” he asks when he feels my hand tremble in his.

“Yes. No.”

“I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear it. You’re safe.”

“Safe from what? Alexius, just tell me.”

“It’s better if you see for yourself.” He starts down the stairs, but I pull him back.

“No. Tell me now, please. What’s down there?”

He hesitates for a moment, his blue irises searching mine, and it’s easy to see how conflicted he is. My God, if whatever is down there has him so unsure, so on edge, it’ll probably fucking destroy me.

He reaches for my other hand, holding it tight, placing a gentle kiss inside my palm, and I swear I almost drown with a single breath. “I promised you that I’ll try, remember?”

“Try what?”

“To let you make your own decisions. To not make them for you.” He leans closer, and I can smell the whiskey on his breath mixed with his wild spice cologne as he kisses me. It’s so soft, so gentle. For a moment, I wonder if he’s kissing me or merely breathing against my lips. It settles me a little, calming my nerves even though my heart is still racing like crazy.

He pulls back and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “This is me keeping that promise.”

I swallow hard. “What is down there?”

Alexius stills, staring at me like he’s scared I’ll break. Like I’m a porcelain doll and he’s searching for the cracks.

“Alexius?”

“Please trust me,” he says softly and urges me to move by holding my hand tight in his as we descend the stairs. I have no idea what’s waiting for us at the bottom, but something tells me it’s not a puppy.

It’s humid, and a musty smell drifts from the concrete walls. There are no windows, and the air grows thicker with each step. My heart is racing so fast I’m sure Alexius can feel my pulse against his palm.

We take the last step, and I lose my balance, stumbling into Alexius’ side. He grabs my elbow and steadies me, wiping tresses of hair from my face. “You okay?”

I nod, and we continue around a sharp corner, walking into a large, open room. Nicoli is the first person I see standing on the left, his cigarette glowing brightly in the dimly lit area.

Caelian and Isaia are both standing on an elevated platform, the other half of the room cast in complete darkness.

It’s the look on Isaia’s face that threads fear through my veins. With his hands tucked into his jeans pockets, his shoulders squared, it’s as clear as daylight that he’s nervous—and that makes me nervous. If it wasn’t for Alexius tightening his hold on my hand, this would be the part where I bolt and rush in the other direction. It’s when I glance over my shoulder that I notice Maximo behind us. I have no idea where he came from, but then again, I never do. The man is like a phantom, and super fucking quiet. It’s like he’s in permanent stealth mode all the damn time.

I jolt when Nicoli speaks. “There’s still time to change your mind, brother.”

Alexius lets out a grunt, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Change your mind about what?”

“About letting you decide if he lives or dies.”

My eyes widen. “If who lives or dies?”

Alexius nods in Nicoli’s direction. There’s a loud crack of electricity rumbling through the walls, and the entire room is suddenly lit up. I hold up my hand, shielding my eyes from the blinding light, but as my vision adjusts, the scene in front of me unfolds little by little…and my heart fucking stops.

“Dad?”