Page 17

Rio

The door to Ellis’s apartment gave way with a single kick from Renegade. I stepped inside, knife already in hand, my heartbeat steady despite what I was about to do. The stench hit me first -- cigarettes, sweat, and fear. Ellis’s eyes widened when he saw me, panic setting in. Good. The asshole remembered our previous conversation. I wanted him to know exactly why I was here.

“What the fuck?” Ellis backed up, his hand instinctively reaching toward the coffee table where a pistol lay.

Rebel moved faster, snatching the gun and tucking it into his waistband. “Nuh-uh. You won’t be needing this.”

I took in the cramped apartment. Dirty clothes piled in corners. Fast food containers stacked on every surface. The blinds drawn tight. A fitting hole for a rat like Ellis.

“Private Ellis,” I said, my voice unnaturally calm.

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his skinny neck. “Look, Rio, I don’t know what you think --”

“She thinks you drugged her, asshole,” Renegade said from behind me. “She thinks you held her down while your buddy Denton took his turn. And then you took yours. You may have gotten a reprieve last time, but now it’s time to pay the price for your crime. She let you go before, and yet here you are. You were supposed to be in prison. Not living a new life.”

Ellis’s eyes darted between the three of us. Me with my knife. Rebel leaning against the wall, looking bored but alert. And Renegade, blocking the door.

“That’s… that’s crazy talk,” Ellis stammered. “I never touched you.”

I took a step closer. This fucker! Was he really going to pretend none of it happened? What the hell! “You’re right. You didn’t touch me. You wore gloves, and a condom.” Another step. “You didn’t want to leave evidence.”

“Look --”

I flipped the knife in my hand, the blade catching the dim light from the single lamp in the corner. “I gave you time to tidy up your life, make any preparations. I hope you used the time wisely.”

“You got no proof,” Ellis blustered, but his voice wavered. His eyes kept tracking the knife in my hand. “Didn’t even show up for the hearing. So who’s to say anything ever happened to you?”

“You think I don’t know you were dishonorably discharged?” I asked.

He sneered. “What of it? Doesn’t mean it was all about you. Like I said, you don’t have any proof either of us touched you.”

“Don’t need proof,” I said. “Not anymore.”

His back hit the wall. Nowhere left to go. “Listen,” he said, forcing a smile that looked more like a grimace. “There’s been a misunderstanding. We can work this out.”

“Work it out?” I laughed, a cold, hollow sound that surprised even me. “The way you ‘worked out’ what to do with me when I couldn’t fight back?”

I saw the moment he realized talking wouldn’t save him. Hadn’t worked for him last time, but I’d already learned this one wasn’t all that smart. His eyes hardened, and he lunged at me, trying to grab my wrist, to wrestle the knife away.

I sidestepped. Easy. He was nowhere near as good as me. Without drugs in my system, I had the upper hand. I slashed, opening a line across his forearm.

He cried out, clutching the wound.

“That’s just the beginning,” I said.

He charged again, desperate now. I drove my knee into his stomach, doubling him over, then brought the handle of the knife down hard on the back of his head. He crashed into the coffee table, sending beer cans and an ashtray flying.

“You think you can just walk in here --” he started, scrambling to his feet.

I didn’t let him finish. The knife found his shoulder, sinking in deep. I twisted, feeling muscles tear. His scream filled the small space.

“You can’t win against me now that I’m not drugged,” I hissed in his ear as I yanked the blade free. “I made a mistake last time. Shouldn’t have let you go. How does it feel to be the helpless one?”

Blood bloomed across his shirt. He stumbled back, eyes wide with terror. “Please,” he begged. “I’m sorry. I didn’t -- it wasn’t my idea --”

“Shut up.” I slashed again, catching him across the chest. Not deep enough to kill. Not yet. “Every word out of your mouth is another cut.”

He tried to run, to push past Renegade, but the biker clotheslined him, sending him crashing back into the room. Ellis landed hard on his back, the air rushing from his lungs in a pained whoosh.

I straddled him, pinning his arms with my knees. The knife hovered above his face.

“Remember how you laughed?” I asked, my voice trembling with rage. “How you and Denton high-fived over my body like I was nothing but a piece of meat?”

“No, I don’t -- I can’t --”

I pressed the tip of the blade against his cheek, just hard enough to dimple the skin without breaking it. “Liar.”

Tears leaked from the corners of his eyes. “Please. I’ve got money. I can pay you.”

“You think this is about money?” The knife sliced down, opening his cheek from eye to jaw. His screams turned to sobs. “You can’t buy your way out of this.”

Blood ran freely now, staining the dirty carpet beneath us. I felt nothing but cold determination as I worked. Another slash across his chest. A stab to his thigh. Non-fatal wounds, prolonging his suffering.

Behind me, I could hear Rebel whistling softly, the sound incongruously cheerful against Ellis’s cries for mercy.

“She’s good,” he remarked to no one in particular. “But, baby, might not want to drag this out too much.”

Ellis’s pleas grew weaker as blood loss took its toll. His eyes, once bright with fear, began to dull.

I leaned close, my mouth near his ear. “I want you to know something before you die,” I whispered. “You’re not going to be the only one to die today.”

His eyes widened at that, a flicker of understanding before resignation.

I stood up, wiping the knife clean on his shirt. Then I reached behind me, where Rebel already had my gun ready. He placed it in my hand with a nod of approval.

“Time’s up,” I said, aiming between Ellis’s eyes.

He didn’t beg anymore. Just stared, defeated.

I pulled the trigger. The sound seemed muffled by the silencer. Ellis’s head snapped back, then he went completely still.

For a moment, none of us moved. I stared at Ellis’s body, not feeling the relief I thought I would. Maybe once Denton was gone too.

“You good?” Renegade asked, his hand on my shoulder.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Rebel stepped forward, checking Ellis’s pulse out of habit rather than necessity. The hole in his forehead told us everything we needed to know.

“Clean,” he pronounced. “One shot. No suffering.”

“More than he deserved,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Maybe.” Rebel’s gaze met mine. “But you’re better than him. Remember that.”

I handed the gun back to him, and he tucked it away with practiced ease.

“One down,” Renegade said. “One to go.”

I took a deep breath, steadying myself. “Then let’s go find Denton.”

As we left Ellis’s apartment, I didn’t look back. His body would be found eventually, but by then we’d be long gone. Hopefully the police would write it off as a drug deal gone wrong, or a gambling debt unpaid. I didn’t really care right now. Fury was pulsing inside me, and I refused to stop. I’d deal with the consequences of my actions later.

Justice, in this case, wouldn’t come from the law. It would come from me. And I wasn’t finished yet.

* * *

Denton’s apartment was the opposite of Ellis’s -- spotless, organized, with harsh fluorescent lights that left nowhere to hide. The clinical precision of it made my skin crawl. This wasn’t the lair of a disorganized predator like Ellis; this was the domain of someone who planned meticulously, who left no evidence, who thought himself untouchable. I stepped over the threshold, my clothes still damp with Ellis’s blood and felt Rebel’s reassuring presence at my back.

“Nice place,” Rebel whispered, running a finger along a perfectly aligned row of books. “Psychopath neat.”

He wasn’t wrong. Everything had its place -- shoes lined up by the door, mail sorted in a metal basket, kitchen counters empty of all but a coffee maker that gleamed under the overhead lights. No photos. No personal touches. Just order for order’s sake.

“He’s here,” Renegade said, nodding toward a sliver of light visible beneath a closed door.

I gripped my knife tighter, the handle still sticky from Ellis. My heart thundered against my ribs, but my hands remained steady. One more. One more and it would be over.

Renegade touched my shoulder. “You don’t have to do this one,” he said softly. “We can handle it.”

I shook my head. “No. It has to be me.”

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. This wasn’t just about revenge; it was about reclaiming what they’d taken from me. My power. My choice.

I moved toward the door. Denton was different from Ellis, which meant sneaking up on him. And it had to be now. If he knew Ellis was dead, he’d be more on guard. Right now, Denton had no idea I’d found him.

I pushed the door open with my foot, staying to the side in case he started shooting immediately.

Sergeant Denton stood by his bedroom window, a gun already in his hand. Unlike Ellis, there was no fear in his eyes -- just cold calculation as he assessed the three of us. I didn’t see a brace or cast on his leg. I’d thought for sure something had broken before. Maybe the damage hadn’t been as severe as I’d thought.

“I was wondering when you’d show up,” he said, his voice as empty of emotion as his apartment was of warmth.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said.

His eyes narrowed, taking in my bloodstained clothes, the knife in my hand. “You’ve got no idea what you’re doing. I’m not like Ellis. I’m not some jumped-up private who pisses himself at the first sign of trouble.”

“No,” I agreed. “You’re worse. You’re the one who orchestrated it all. The one who picked the target. The one who taught Ellis what to do.”

Something flickered across his face -- surprise that I figured it all out, perhaps.

“The drugs were supposed to make sure you didn’t remember anything,” he said, confirming my suspicions. “Most of them don’t.”

“Most of them,” I repeated, bile rising in my throat. “How many?”

He shrugged, as if we were discussing the weather rather than his crimes. “Does it matter? You won’t leave here alive to tell anyone.”

“Confident for a man outnumbered three to one,” Rebel remarked.

Denton’s smile grew colder. “I wasn’t just a sergeant. Grew up in a rough neighborhood. Learned a lot from the gangs in the area. I’ve killed better men than you with less effort than it takes to tie my shoes.”

“But have you ever killed someone who’s already dead inside?” I asked, taking a step toward him. “Because that’s what you did to me that night. You killed something in me. And now, there’s nothing left to lose.”

His eyes flickered -- the first sign of uncertainty. Good. I wanted him off-balance.

“Put the gun down,” I said. “Face me. Or are you only brave when your victims are drugged and helpless?”

His jaw tightened at the taunt. Pride. His weakness.

“You want a fair fight?” he asked. “Fine.” He placed the gun on the nightstand -- still within reach, but a gesture of confidence. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I moved into the room, aware of Renegade and Rebel spreading out behind me, blocking any escape. This was my fight, but they were my backup.

Denton lunged without warning, faster than Ellis had been, more coordinated. His fist caught my jaw, sending me stumbling back. Stars exploded across my vision.

“Rio!” Rebel stepped forward, but I held up a hand.

“No. I’ve got this.”

Denton smirked. “Do you?”

I spat blood onto his pristine floor. “Yeah. I do.”

He came at me again, but this time I was ready. I sidestepped, slashing with the knife as he passed. He hissed as the blade opened a cut along his ribs.

“I’m just getting started,” I said.

His face contorted with rage. Gone was the cold calculation. Now he attacked with fury, throwing punches and kicks in quick succession. I blocked some, took others, giving ground strategically.

He was good -- better than Ellis by far. But he was older, slower. And I had rage fueling every move.

I ducked under a wild swing and drove my knee into his stomach. He doubled over, and I brought the knife down toward his exposed neck.

He caught my wrist at the last moment, twisting hard. Pain shot up my arm, and the knife clattered to the floor.

“Not so tough now,” he growled, forcing me back against the wall.

I headbutted him, feeling his nose crunch under the impact. Blood gushed down his face.

He staggered back, cursing. I followed, landing a solid kick to his knee. Something popped, and he went down hard.

I scrambled for the knife, but he grabbed my ankle, yanking me off balance. I hit the floor, the impact knocking the wind from my lungs.

Denton crawled over me, his blood dripping onto my face as he wrapped his hands around my throat.

“I should have killed you that night,” he snarled, squeezing. “Should have snapped your neck when we were done with you.”

Black spots danced at the edges of my vision. Behind him, I saw Rebel step forward, ready to intervene.

No. This was my fight.

I drove my thumbs into Denton’s eyes. He screamed, releasing my throat to protect his face. I bucked, throwing him off, then rolled away, gasping for air.

“Fucking bitch!” He lunged for his gun on the nightstand.

I wasn’t fast enough to stop him. But Rebel was. He kicked the nightstand, sending the gun skittering across the floor.

Denton changed direction, diving for the weapon. I tackled him from behind, driving him into the floor. We wrestled for control, rolling across the room, leaving smears of blood on his perfect white walls.

My muscles burned with exertion. My lungs ached. But I wouldn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.

“You’re dead,” Denton panted, managing to flip me onto my back. He pinned my arms with his knees, exactly as I had done to Ellis. “You hear me? Dead.”

I saw Renegade pick up the fallen gun. He didn’t interfere, just stood ready, waiting for my signal.

“Throw it,” I gasped.

He understood immediately, but instead of throwing it, he slid the gun across the floor toward me.

Denton’s head turned at the sound, giving me the opening I needed. I bucked hard, throwing him off balance, then lunged for the weapon.

My fingers closed around the grip. I aimed and fired in one fluid motion.

The bullet caught Denton between the eyes, just like Ellis. His expression of rage froze, then slackened as his body collapsed beside me.

I lay there, gun still raised, staring at the ceiling. The pristine white was now splattered with red. Like everything Denton touched, it was ruined.

Then something broke inside me. A dam bursting after holding back too much for too long. I curled onto my side, still clutching the gun, and began to sob -- harsh, ugly sounds that tore from my throat like they were being ripped out.

“Rio.” Rebel’s voice, gentler than I’d ever heard it. He knelt beside me, carefully prying the gun from my fingers. “You did good. It’s over.”

I couldn’t stop shaking. Couldn’t stop the tears. Months of pain and rage and fear poured out of me as I lay in a pool of my enemy’s blood.

Renegade crouched on my other side, his hand warm on my shoulder. He didn’t speak, just offered his silent strength as I fell apart. He stood after a moment and moved around the apartment, pulling blinds, checking outside. “We’re clear. No one’s called in a disturbance or found Ellis’s body. If they had, Shade would have alerted us. But we need to move soon.”

I tried to sit up, but my body wouldn’t cooperate. Everything hurt -- inside and out.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “I can’t move.”

“You don’t have to,” Rebel said. “We’ve got you.”

He lifted me easily, cradling me against his chest like I weighed nothing. I buried my face in his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent.

“It’s over,” he murmured in my ear. “You got them both. No one will ever hurt you like that again.”

Renegade gathered my knife, wiping it clean on Denton’s shirt. “I’ll sweep for prints and call in a cleaning crew,” he said. “You get her to the car. If we run out of time, maybe we can make it look like they killed each other. Rivals. Bad blood. Or maybe they pissed off the same person. Just not Rio.”

I could tell this was a scenario they’d dealt with before. Probably many times. Cleaning crew? I had a feeling if the police weren’t notified anytime soon, Shade or someone else would find a way to make this whole issue disappear… or at least keep it from involving any of us.

Rebel nodded, carrying me toward the door. “We’ll be waiting downstairs.”

As we left Denton’s apartment, I felt strangely hollow. The rage that had sustained me through both killings was gone, leaving only exhaustion in its wake.

“Did it help?” Rebel asked as he took the stairs down. “Killing them?”

I thought about it, about the momentary satisfaction when they realized they weren’t getting away with what they’d done. About the emptiness that followed.

“No,” I admitted. “But it needed to be done.”

He kissed the top of my head. “That’s why we did it together. Some burdens are too heavy to carry alone.”

Outside, the night air was cool against my tear-streaked face. Rebel set me gently in the backseat of the waiting SUV, then slid in beside me, pulling me against him.

“Rest,” he said. “By the time you wake up, this will all be behind us.”

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of what I’d done settling into my bones. Ellis and Denton were gone. They couldn’t hurt anyone else. But the memories remained.

“It wasn’t just about revenge,” I whispered, needing him to understand.

“I know,” Rebel said. “Sleep now. Tomorrow, we start our lives together without this dark cloud over our heads.”

As the car pulled away from the curb, I let exhaustion claim me, knowing that when I awoke, my family -- my real family -- would still be there, standing guard against the darkness that had almost consumed me.