Page 44 of Vow of Vengeance (Destruction & Vengeance Duet #2)

thirty-four

Soren

"Soren?" The voice calling to me sounds far away. Too far. I'm too tired to look that far.

"Ren?"

I don't know who's calling to me, or why they won't leave me alone. I don 't want to see anyone. I just want to sleep. The darkness is so comfortable.

"Wake up, Soren."

Through the fog of my exhaustion, the last word rings a bell somewhere in my mind. The voice is familiar.

"Come on, Miss Palmer. I know you hurt, but we need you to wake up now..."

I don't know that voice; I don't even know that they're talking to me.

"Ren..."

There it is again. That is the voice I recognize.

How do I recognize it?

I hear the voices speaking, but they tangle together. The words aren't distinct but muddled. Trying to figure them out takes too much effort.

"Please..." It's soft, light. Delicate, feminine.

Mom?

No, that doesn't make sense. Mom died years ago, on the bridge...

Was it years ago? It feels like it was.

It feels like...

"Come on, Little Bird."

I know that voice. My body knows that voice, maybe better than my brain, because it chases away the darkness enough for my eyes to attempt to open.

It takes a few tries before my lids flutter open, and I have to blink to try and make the hazy shapes before me come back into something that makes sense.

Except, it still doesn't make sense, because my brain takes a minute longer to put it together.

I know who I'm looking at. I recognize them. But I don't understand.

"Oh, thank God!" Marissa sobs, dropping to her knees and throwing her arms around my neck.

The world goes dark again as she eclipses my vision, pressing herself so deeply into me that I feel like I just might suffocate in her grip.

She seems to realize as much when I gasp, because she pulls away quickly so that I can actually see her.

It's really her.

"Rissa?" My voice sounds weird, and it fades out after the first syllable, but it doesn't matter. It's really her.

She was missing. She was gone for so long, and now she's here and I don't even know where here is, but I don't care because Declan and Marissa are with me.

I have so many questions that I can't manage to get any of them out-- they float so quickly through my mind that I haven't even grasped one before it slips away to be replaced with another.

All this time... where was she?

"God, I've missed you."

It takes me a moment to realize that she said those words... the exact words that flitted through my mind a second before.

"How are you here?" I ask, though the words feel weird on my tongue, which seems clumsy, heavy and dry.

"Declan found me." She turns, then, looking behind her. My eyes seek him out... Declan.

The memories come back all at once, unable to be quelled any longer by Marissa's presence. Not now that I remember Vin is alive... was alive. I think Declan shot him... I'm pretty sure he did.

My stomach turns into a knot at the thought of Vin, of all the things he confessed to me as he tortured me for just another of his snuff films. He was going to rape and murder me, his own wife.

And if that wasn't bad enough, he was going to sell the video, so that other people could witness my ruin.

The video.

Oh my God.

Shame sears through me at the thought of Declan witnessing that, of him seeing me at Vin's mercy. I know, logically, that he is the one who rescued me, but that doesn't mean I want him to see the full play-by-play. And did he know to dispose of it? Was Vin live-streaming it?

Oh my god.

Fire burns in my stomach when I sit up too fast, and Declan's large palm presses against my shoulder to pin me back against the mattress. It overrides the panicked thought of who may have seen the video.

Bewildered, I reach for the source of all the pain, but Declan's hand catches mine.

"You don't want to pop the stitches. Just relax, okay, little bird?"

I blink at him, trying to remember why I have stitches. And then I recall being stabbed... how methodical he had been, how sadistic he was as he'd plunged his fingers inside of me, tearing the wound wider.

My brain fragments through the events, like it's trying to hide bits of the night from me.

Stab a bitch and fuck the hole....

He didn't? He couldn't have...

Could he?

I don't remember everything. It doesn't play sequentially in my mind.

Disgust threatens to turn me out of my own skin... and I'm fine with it, because I want to tear it all off. I want every inch of me that he ever touched ripped from my bone; I want it all gone.

I claw at the bandage, needing to know that he didn't do that. He's sick. He's fucking disgusting. But would he have really gone that far?

My brain isn't making sense. Why isn't everything linear? Why can't I remember everything?

Declan's hand grips my wrist again, and as he leans over me, careful not to put any weight on me, his cool gaze captures mine.

"You're okay. You're going to be as good as new soon," Declan promises. "It was just a few stitches... the wound wasn't that deep, but you bled a lot because..."

I blink at him, trying to figure out what he's talking about.

"Ren..." Marissa smiles, drawing my attention back to her. She's got her hand out for me to take, so I do, letting her fingers wrap around mine.

"I'm so sorry, but we really need to get a statement so we can close this investigation."

That voice I don't recognize again. Blinking, I turn toward the source and find a woman there, dressed in a tailored suit that looks far too suited to her body to be from the rack. Seeing she's got my attention, the woman smiles. "Miss Palmer, hi. I'm Agent Kate Lorraine. I'm glad you're awake."

"Agent?"

"FBI." She nods, the ghost of a grin flitting on her pink lips. "I've been building a case against your husband for years. Last year, when he died, we shifted the focus to Tony Bucci. Because of that, we were able to claim jurisdiction over the investigation of what happened last night."

My breath stalls in my throat, which feels suddenly tight.

Years .

I've been building a case against your husband for years.

It feels like a betrayal, and I don't even know this woman. She suspected him... of what? Of exactly what he did? Did she really let me live all that time with a murderer sleeping beside me? Or did she not realize the extent of it?

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions," she nods, "and I'll be happy to answer them for you once you recover a bit if you'd like. I don't want to get too deep into all of it here, but I do need a statement from you about what happened."

She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a small little rectangle... a recorder?

"I'm going to ask you a few questions, and all I need is for you to answer them, okay?"

I turn to Declan, eyes wide with the sudden feeling that I'm somehow going to go down for my husband's crimes.

"Dec..." I gasp, shaking my head.

"You'll be just fine, Ren." He assures me, sweeping a strand of hair from my face and pressing a kiss to my cheekbone.

His voice is lower when he speaks again, just a whisper.

"Remember what I told you? You were right about me having the police in my pocket.

Just tell the truth and it will be okay. "

I blink as he pulls away, his face betraying no hint of what he just admitted to.

Sure, I accused him of having the police in his pocket.

And he had confirmed as much when Marissa first went missing and he was able to get swift action out of the police chief.

But this isn't the same thing... not at all.

The Chicago PD isn't the same thing as the FBI.

There's no way Declan has federal connections. .. does he?

But then I remember that Declan killed Tony and Vin... at least, I think he did. We didn't stick around to check that they were indeed dead, but I'm sure they didn't survive when we left them. Is this investigator here to put him away for that?

"Declan saved me." I explain quickly, turning back to the agent.

She nods. "There's no disputing that. If Mr. Evers hadn't intervened, you wouldn't be sitting here with us right now.

I've already assured him, no prosecutor would take action against him for that.

.. not with all of this falling under my jurisdiction.

That's why I need to clarify a few things with you, so that we can lay this all to bed. Okay?"

Declan nods when I glance his way, so I follow suit. "Okay."

"Miss Palmer... when you were married to your husband, were you aware that he was creating what is commonly referred to as snuff films, which portray the violent, sexual torture and murder of innocent victims?"

Her tone is neutral; I can't tell if she's judging me for not knowing or if she's just checking. "No." I swallow back the sob that threatens to burst out, and Marissa squeezes my hand tighter. She must think I'm so stupid to have had no clue all that time.

"When did you first become aware of your husband's role in the sexual torture and murder of innocent women?"

I want to throw up, but it doesn't feel like there's even anything there. I already tossed my guts in the hotel room… whenever that was.

"A month ago?" I look to Declan to check the timeline. "We were in Costa Rica."

"And how did you find out?"

Declan nods his encouragement for me to tell her before I've even hesitated long. "Declan showed me footage he found online that had my husband in it..."

"And at what point did you become aware that your friend Khan Novir was involved?"

Marissa's hand squeezes mine tightly, almost painfully, but I don't know if it's for her comfort or mine.

"I... what?"

Khan?

I remember Vin confessing that he'd let people pay to fuck me.

Bile rises in my throat again at the thought alone.

He'd told me the baby I lost could have been Khan's.

It's all heinous, but suggesting that Khan also participated in the murders?

I never saw him in any of the photos. Surely, she's mistaken.

"Khan Novir. You two were friends, right?"

Friends?