Page 154 of Retribution

“Fuck, he’s right. Ophelia may be hiding behind a dead man,” he agrees. “I think it’s a good idea to check it.”

Oliver nods, typing as he begins to search the dark web for any jobs posted by Rock Dresmond. It would be the perfect cover.

“We cleaned up our father’s businesses, removed the bad eggs with force, but we didn’t really spread the news of his death,” Jed muses. “We worked so hard to get accepted in Minneapolis, we were happy to move on.”

“The bastard lives on,” Adira mutters. “I was hoping he’d be getting railed in the ass repeatedly by hot pokers in hell.”

“My father would enjoy that entirely too much,” Damon sighs. “That mental image was very vivid, baby.”

“Sorry. I really fucking hate him.”

Damon rubs her stomach slowly next to her, and she begins to relax. It’s pretty obvious that this is a touchy subject.

“Found it,” Oliver breathes. “Goddamn it.”

“We didn’t know,” Lucas says, swallowing hard. “Tell us what you found.”

“Two weeks ago, Rock Dresmond asked for someone to allow them entrance into Reid Pharmaceuticals. Such a simple fuckingrequest, but so damning,” Oliver says, his hand scrubbing the stubble on his face.

None of us have spent much time on shaving or grooming, so we’re all looking a little rough.

“Doesn’t money exchange hands before the job is completed for things like this?” Lucas asks.

“You’d think so, but Ophelia must have had a reason not to,” Oliver explains. “Otherwise, Paula was paid and she wants more. Alesso?”

“You keep working, I’ll look at her bank records and drain her funds as well so she can’t run,” Alesso says.

“Give me a couple of minutes to get her picked up,” I suggest, closing out the browser and calling the police commissioner. “Hi, Robbie? I need to call in a favor.”

Waving at the room, I head back upstairs to finish my call and shower. Things are moving too damn slowly, but a win is a win.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Isolde

Ican’t feel my face and my asshole is on fire. I’m in the same position that they left me in a full day ago. I feel disgusting and oddly dehydrated too. No one has been by to check on me, nor have they bothered to offer the common courtesy of hosing me down.

I only recently was able to doze off due to the horror show of my intestines and sphincter working together to evacuate everything in my body. There’s nothing left in my stomach, so it’s all fluid leaving my body at a disturbing pace.

This is as much a punishment to dehumanize me as it is an attempt on Ophelia’s part to force the suppressants to pass through. I can only hope that there’s enough still absorbed in my system to keep her from forcing my heat.

Footsteps move across the ground, and they’re lighter than the alphas or Ophelia. This must be her daughter. I don’t know who could be her father other than Rock. Ophelia was never with anyone while I was in her auction warehouse, and Rock always gave her very special attention.

How did she hide this girl from everyone?

“Gross,” Avery groans. “Are you even alive?”

I keep my eyes closed out of exhaustion, knowing only one thing can come next.

The sound of water blasting is loud, taking the place where there was silence, and it crashes over my skin as Avery uses it to clean me off. I swear there are unmentionable things dried on my skin. It’s so fucking gross and inhumane.

She mutters to herself as she cleans the floor, making sure it goes down the hole left by the open grate.

“Daddy never would have made me do this if he was alive,” she complains softly.

I haven’t been able to see her well enough to decide if she looks like Rock yet, and she finally calls out for someone to come pick me up.

“I need to clean where the wood trapped her shit,” Avery says sweetly.