Page 48 of Ruined By Protection (Feretti Syndicate #5)

Hazel

M y thoughts tumble head over tush as I attempt to read the emotions wrangling in Matteo's eyes. The storm of rage is tempered not only by what he wants to do to Elliott, how he wants to make him pay. But with Vanessa’s unexpected presence, I can tell he’s berating himself, for being a man who also harms a woman by tossing her to one side without a thought.

“Don’t blame yourself for any of this,” I say, my free hand moving to his stubbled cheek. He visibly relaxes the instant I let him know that I get the turmoil he’s battling inside.

But then his jaw pinches. "I want to make him suffer, Hazel. He deserves agonizing pain for every mark he put on your body, for every nightmare he gave you."

I shake my head, grabbing his wrists as his hands cup my face. "No. I can't do this. I can't be party to torture, no matter what he's done."

"He buried a pregnant woman under a tree and made you tend her grave," Matteo says, his voice dropping dangerously low. "He deserves worse than a quick painless death."

"And then what does that make us?" I ask, tears welling in my eyes. "If we become like him, he wins. He scars me all over again. Don't you see that?"

Matteo's eyes search mine, his breath coming hard and fast. “In my world we have a code for assholes like Elliott.”

"Please," I beg, squeezing his wrists tighter. "Do it as justice, not revenge. Clean. Quick. I know you have to deal with him but I can't live with knowing we made him suffer. I can't carry that with everything else."

His expression transforms—the rage still burns but it's now tempered by respect. Or understanding.

"Okay," he says finally, pressing his forehead against mine. "For you. We do it clean."

I exhale, relief flooding through me. "Thank you."

"You're nothing like him," Matteo husks. "You know that, right? Even now, you're showing mercy he never deserved."

“Ditto,” I say, echoing some old romantic movie we watched a few nights ago.

My eyes glint with a much-needed touch of promise for the future once we get through this ghastly nightmare.

Oh, there’ll be others, I have no doubts or illusions but I can’t help feeling that together we’ll navigate whatever Matteo’s crazy world throws in our path.

“You have so much compassion,” Matteo says. “I don’t deserve it. I don’t deserve you.”

I laugh ruefully, surprised at my next thought: “I even want Vanessa to be free. She’s only acting this way because…”

“Becasue I was a bastard.”

“Not intentionally, not callously,” I remind him not to blame himself. “I believe everyone deserves compassion, especially you.”

He drops his face to capture my mouth under his. The passion in our kiss releases the pent up tension caught in our bodies but I disentangle before it goes too far.

“Okay soldier, let’s get this mission completed and get the hell outta here.”

"Yes ma’am. Clean and quick, like you said.” He stands to attention then turns serious. “But you need to stay here while we handle this. I don't want you anywhere near… when it happens."

"I can't just sit here twiddling my thumbs while…

you…" My lips stop functioning as revulsion courses through me.

Elliott's confession about killing Melissa and their child, his glee at having me dig in her grave, his plan to murder me, Vanessa, both of us—it's too much. And now we’re about to do the same.

Matteo takes my phone from my pocket. "Do you have a special song that can always take you somewhere else?"

I consider all the songs that have ever helped me to forget for a while. "When I was small Mum used to play an old one by Florence and the Machine called Dog Days Are Over . We'd dance around the kitchen, clapping our hands with it."

"That's the one then. Good old Mum." He plugs his own AirPods into the device and gently brushes back tendrils of my hair to insert them. The tenderness in his gesture contrasts with the violence I know he's about to commit.

I grab his wrist before he can pull away. "Matteo..."

"I know," he says. “When I leave, turn it up loud.

Think about dancing with your mom. Think about being free.

Because after tonight the dog days will be over and you will be.

" He leans down for a lingering kiss, as though he’s drawing inspiration from my body.

When he pulls back his eyes are dark with purpose. "I won't be long."

I observe the transformation in him—the tender man who protects and caresses every inch of my body morphs into the deadly enforcer as he moves to the door with lethal grace.

I press the play button and try to remember the feeling of carefree innocence.

Matteo

Noah and Daniel stand outside Montgomery's office, weapons ready. Noah gives me a nod as I approach.

"All good?" he asks.

"Yeah. Let's finish this."

I push open the door to find Montgomery still tied to his chair. His eyes bat up to me and there's a smirk on his face, a smug satisfaction that makes my blood boil. Suddenly I’m not sure that I can keep my promise to Hazel.

"What's so amusing?" I ask, circling him slowly. "Having Vanessa tied up? That your idea of a good time?"

Noah's head snaps toward me. "What?"

"This bastard took Vanessa. We discovered her in one of the guest rooms," I explain, never taking my eyes off Montgomery.

"She came willingly enough,” he snarks. “Just like your precious angel Hazel did when she wanted something from me."

I resist the urge to hit him again. Until I don’t. I bring the barrel of my gun down across the side of his face and that stops him smirking. “Shit,” I mutter under my breath. Well, one bitchslap is nothing more than I’d have given this bastard in a barroom. It can hardly be counted as torture.

"His text is drafted," Noah says, holding up his phone. "Just waiting on your signal."

"What text?" Montgomery whines, his confidence drained at last. “What are you planning to do with me?”

I lean down, bringing my face close to his. "Send out your suicide note."

The color suctions from his face as understanding dawns. "You can't?—"

"We can," I cut him off. "And we will."

Montgomery's eyes skitter wildly around the room as though looking for an exit, panic finally breaking through his composed facade. "She'll never forgive you for this because she’s soft. She might for a while but then she’ll discover that you’re just as much of a monster as I am."

Something snaps inside me–I hope to god it’s not the realisation that he could be right. I grab his chair arms and yank them toward me. The chair skitters across the floor pulling him right up into my face.

"Let me tell you something you don’t know about Hazel," I say, my voice deadly quiet.

"That woman survived two years of your torture without breaking.

She walked away with nothing but the clothes on her back rather than live one more day under your control.

And even now, knowing what you did to Melissa, she still begged me to show mercy to you—a quick end instead of the torturous suffering you deserve. "

Montgomery tries to speak, but I don’t permit him to.

"She may be soft but she’s also the strongest person I've ever known,” I continue. “And unlike you, she doesn't need to hurt others to feel powerful."

I straighten up, adjusting my cuffs. "That's the difference between you and her. You break things. She rebuilds them. And long after you're gone she'll still be shining—brighter than you could ever imagine."

Montgomery's face twists with hatred. "You don't know her like I do. She's nothing without?—"

"She's everything," I cut him off. "And you never deserved her."

Montgomery's face tightens, desperation seeping through the cracks in his mask. "My father will never let this stand. The Montgomery name means something in this state. He'll bury whatever story you try to spin."

I laugh, the sound echoing off the oak paneling. Not the polite chuckle I use in business meetings, but something filled with disdain. "Your father?" I shake my head, pacing circles around his chair to discombobulate his senses. "You think Daddy's money is going to save you now?"

Noah holds up his phone, the screen glowing in the dim light. "The suicide note's ready to send. Confession about Melissa, details about where to find her body, apologies for the abuse but he cannot live with himself. It's all there."

I lean in close to the side of his face. "That text isn't going to the police who are in Daddy’s pocket. It's going to every fucking journalist in the United States."

His eyes bulge.

"Every news outlet, every newspaper, every online rag from coast to coast will have your confession before your body's even cold." I straighten, fixing my gold cufflinks–something he’ll never do again. "Your father will do nothing because it will be too fucking late."

"You can't—" he starts, voice cracking.

"We already have," Daniel cuts in. "Distribution list is set. One click and the whole world knows exactly what kind of monster wears the Montgomery name."

Montgomery's shoulders slump as the finality of the situation rams into his reality. All the money and connections in the world can't undo what's about to happen.

"By tomorrow morning, you'll be famous," I tell him. "Just not in the way you wanted."

I nod to Noah, who steps forward, raising his gun with its silencer.

I motion for him to release Montgomery from his restraints. Noah raises an eyebrow but doesn't question me, just pulls out a knife and cuts through the zip ties.

Montgomery rubs his wrists, a flicker of hope crossing his face.

Funny how demons always cling to their pathetic lives.

That hope dies when he observes me pulling skintight black leather gloves on.

His eyes stretch wild as Noah hands me the weapon and I press the barrel into the flabby skin under Elliott’s chin.

"Any last words?" I ask, coldly professional.

Montgomery's eyes dart around the room, searching for any escape that isn't there.

When he realizes it's over, there’s a strange shift in his expression.

No pretense of charm, just his satanic darkness making its final grab for control.

"Tell Hazel I'll be waiting for her. In this life or the next, she'll always belong to me. "

I pull the trigger. "No. She won't."

Montgomery slumps forward, blood pooling on the silk Persian. With gloved hands, I position the gun into his hand. I ensure the angle looks right, the grip of his fingers—like he put the gun to the base of his skull and blew his brains out.

"Suicide of a guilty man," Noah says, double-checking the positioning. "Classic."

I step back, taking one last look at the man who hurt Hazel. There's no glory in this moment, just the frosty satisfaction that justice has been served.

"Let's go," I say, turning away from Montgomery's body. "We're done here."

Blood spatters my sleeve and a few drops hit my cheek. I can't let Hazel see me like this.

"Daniel," I call, my voice steady despite the adrenaline still pumping through me. "I need a wet towel."

Daniel nods and disappears down the hall while Noah begins the cleanup process, wiping down every surface for any prints we may have left.

"Make sure the text goes out in ten minutes," I remind him. "We’ll be well away from here by then."

"Timer’s already set," Noah confirms, not looking up from his work.

Daniel returns with a dampened hand towel and I methodically wipe down the surfaces of my own body, eliminating all trace of what went down here.

"Bring the car around to the side entrance,” I tell Daniel, handing him the blood-stained towel to dispose of. “We leave in five."

"What about Vanessa?"

I pause, considering this possible glitch. "She comes with us. Make sure she understands what will happen if she talks."

I adjust my cufflinks and head for the room where I left Hazel.