Page 23 of Vow of Vengeance (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #2)

twenty

Soren

We're parked one street over, watching through binoculars as the bar comes alive.

The parking lot fills slowly, and I watch patrons come and go-- some I recognize and some I don't. I watch girls stumble in together, clearly having begun their celebration elsewhere, and then practically drag themselves to the waiting cars.

I'm idly grateful that they at least don't attempt to drive themselves, but when one of them stumbles out into the night and vomits all over her own feet, irritation flares inside me.

Nika would be making sure that no one is getting overserved.

In her absence, it seems that no one is doing anything other than serving drinks.

Through the binoculars, I watch as a man comes out to pull the girl off the ground, throwing her over his shoulder, and I suck in a breath, anxiety unfurling in my stomach.

"Declan..." I warn, knowing we have to do something.

"Pretty sure that's his wife." Declan assures me. "They walked in together."

As he carries her limp body toward the car, my restlessness intensifies.

We've been watching the bar for hours. Khan is stationed a few buildings down, his eyes on the back entrance.

I call him every thirty minutes to be sure he hasn't fallen asleep, and more than once, his voice is thick with exhaustion.

But if Marissa is inside the bar for some reason, they'll try to move her.

After my visit earlier today, whatever horrible shit Tony and my husband were into, is at risk of being revealed.

Even if he didn't see me walk out of the secret room, he suspects I saw something.

Our interaction was too stilted for everything to be normal, and despite my attempts to make it seem like Declan was just my boss, it was pretty clear when Declan punched him that it was deeper than that.

"I don't care if it's his wife." I snap, watching as he opens the passenger side door of a truck and hefts her inside. I know that marriage doesn't excuse people from doing wicked things. It didn't stop Vin from...

I feel nauseous, but as the man buckles the woman into his car, my anxiety settles.

He did the motion with a practiced sort of care, like this isn't unfortunately the first time he's had to do this.

When he presses a kiss to her forehead, I let the binoculars drop, pressing my fingertips to my eyes so I can try and ease the exhaustion creeping in.

Nothing makes me as tired, it turns out, as doing nothing.

"I could make a few calls, and we could have that place emptied in thirty minutes or less," Declan says, drawing my attention to him. "And then we'd know whether she's even in there."

"And we'd show our hand if she's not." I shake my head. "They'd know that we suspect something, and the little bit of leverage we have would be gone. We have to wait until they're gone."

Declan doesn't argue, settling against the driver's seat and bracing his hands on the wheel, stretching. He doesn't complain, doesn't argue, just returns his attention to watching out the windshield for anything suspicious.

"Thank you." I say, overwhelmed by the sudden wave of appreciation for him.

He has no obligation to Marissa, but he's dedicated himself to finding her this past month while also trying to pull me out of the spiral I sank into back in Costa Rica, when I learned the truth about the man I thought I loved.

Now I know I didn't love Vin... I couldn't have, because he never fucking existed.

Whatever I felt for him was the product of his manipulation-- years of it.

Declan turns to me, confusion on his face as he appraises me. "Thank you?"

"For believing me." I swallow. "For being willing to help me find her. For not leaving me chained to your bed forever."

"Mm." He mutters. "What makes you think I won't? I still have to come up with a way to punish you for lying to me about coming here."

I shiver at thoughts of punishment, all the filthy possibilities that I don't properly dread filtering through my mind.

The last punishment he gave me had made me mad at him and left my ass raw for far longer than I'll admit to him.

I also won't admit that I wasn't as mad about what he did as I was about the fact that he was punishing me for something beyond my control.

But this? I know it was stupid to stop here. .. especially after how it had gone.

"In the morning, when we've checked it out and found nothing," I laugh, "I'm free."

His eyes narrow a little on my face. "Don't gaslight yourself. You know what you saw. Maybe Marissa's not there, but you're not overreacting. Whatever they're involved in..." He breaks off, shaking his head.

I haven't let myself explore the possibilities too much. They're wicked and nauseating. I feel sick and viscerally pained every time I try to contemplate it.

"I think I always knew they were into something bad.

" I say after a minute of silence. It feels like a confession of sorts, and I'm not sure why I'm telling Declan, but he doesn't do anything to stop me from divulging the red flags I overlooked.

"I asked once if they were in the mob, and if that made me a mob wife.

I said it like a joke, but they didn't find it funny.

Vin got really defensive, said that it was ridiculous.

Tony, on the other hand, laughed. He told me they weren't into organized crime.

.. they preferred dis organized crime." I shake my head, wishing I'd been smart enough to ask questions, to not believe everything they told me.

"He said it like a joke, too, and I let it go.

But there was always something going on with the two of them.

They kept so many secrets. I just dismissed it because it seemed casual enough.

.. I never thought they would be into something like. .. this."

He's silent, waiting for me to work through my guilt, trying to look for the signs that I missed.

"And what do you think this is?" He asks, prompting me to say what I have been ignoring.

When Declan came clean with me about how he got his first fortune, he hadn't minced words.

He told me in no uncertain terms that the people his software erased were taken to be sold off to people who were willing to pay the right price.

He didn't have to elaborate. I understand what human trafficking is.

Selling people like cattle, using them to fulfill whatever you don't want to pay someone for. .. whatever you can't pay someone for.

I stare at him, unable to believe he really wants me to say it.

It's fucking wrong, what they did. Saying it out loud makes my pulse race, my stomach twist. But saying it can't be as hard as living it.

If my husband's victims could survive what he did to them, I can survive admitting the atrocity he committed.

I swallow, nipping my lip before letting it go.

"They raped them. Trafficked them... sold them to whoever was willing to pay and tortured them until then. "

A hot tear slips down my cheek, and anger lights me up from the inside out.

I fucking hate them for what they did, for the girls they hurt, for what they did to me.

Human fucking trafficking.

It's sick. Not just a crime against humanity, the crime against humanity. I can't imagine anything worse than having your autonomy stolen from you, being targeted because your body is a good way for sick fucks to make a quick buck or let off a little steam.

I think of my baby, and what might have happened if things hadn't ended the way they had. If it was a girl, would Vin have protected her the way he protected me? If it was a boy, would he have welcomed the extra help, another person he could corrupt into helping him with his heinous business?

Declan is silent, letting me work through my thoughts alone, but he holds a hand out, palm up.

It's all the comfort I can allow myself right now, but it's not all he allows me.

When I take his palm, his fingers close on mine, pulling me toward him so that I have to turn to face him.

No sooner do I, than he pulls me into his arms.

I abandoned my seat belt hours ago, so when he beckons me onto his lap, I crawl easily over top of him until my legs straddle his waist.

My back is to the windshield now, but Khan's got eyes on the bar, too. I need whatever comfort Declan is willing to give me.

His fingers swipe hair from my eyes and he cocks his head a bit, trying to see me better in the small space. "You were married to a monster." He says softly. "That doesn't mean that any of what he did is on you."

It's what I need to hear, of course, but I can't bring myself to believe he's right. I don't deserve for him to be right.

If I'd been a better wife, could I have spared any of his victims from their fate? I feel like there had to be something I could do-- something that could have made him realize what he was doing was so wrong.

"I just think I should have known... I should have done something to stop him." My breath leaves me as a sob, and I want to be annoyed at myself for fucking crying again.

But if there was ever a time worth crying, these last few weeks have been it.

I’m drained in a way I didn’t know it was possible to be. Part of that may be thanks to the fact that Declan and I are fucking like rabbits. It’s a nice distraction from the desperation that encompasses my every waking moment as I agonize over where Marissa is.

"Get that out of your head now," Declan says, leaning up to press a kiss between my eyes. "You were his victim too."

I let my eyes close, soaking in his admission for a moment.

I don’t want to be a victim… especially not a victim of my own fucking husband.

It’s like I’ve said it out loud, or else Declan reads my mind. Because his timing is perfect when his hands frame my face, and I open my eye to look at him again.

“But you’re not anymore. You survived him, and it made you stronger.”

Stronger?

I snort indelicately. “I’m not strong. I’m…”

Honestly, I don’t even know what I am. I didn’t know who I was without Vin… while he was alive. Once he died, I was a grieving widow bent on revenge. But now? Now, I don’t know who I am; I don’t know what to do with myself.

“You’re mine.” Declan says fiercely, still gripping my face so I can’t look away from him… as if I’d want to. “And that’s all that matters.”

It’s a lovely sentiment, but I’m not sure he’s right.

Could that be enough for me?