I nodded and didn’t point out that I knew what Dad and Amo would be doing with the bikers. Matteo poked his head in, then he opened the door wider and motioned me in. Taking a deep breath to steel myself, I entered, followed by Matteo. With a bone-chilling clang, the heavy steel door fell shut behind me. A shudder raced down my spine as I scanned the barren room.
Four men were tied to chairs, one of them Maddox. His gaze hit me, blue eyes that awakened my emotions all over again. The left side of his face was swollen and bluish, but apart from that Dad and Amo hadn’t laid a hand on him yet. The other men hadn’t been as lucky—one of them the man who was responsible for everything.
Earl White had suffered a broken arm and his ear didn’t look good either. Cody hung limply in his chair. I didn’t know the name of the fourth man. I’d thought one of the captives might be Gray. That he wasn’t here worried me for Maddox. It was obvious how protective he was of his half-brother. If he was dead, that would break Maddox’s heart and definitely wouldn’t improve his relationship with my father.
Dad immediately came toward me, shielding me from the men. “Marci, you know I don’t think you should be here. There’s nothing these men have to say that you should hear, and they aren’t worthy to hear a single word from your lips.”
“You said you wouldn’t stop me,” I reminded him. I wasn’t surprised he’d changed his mind. He still thought he could protect me from evil.
My gaze sought Maddox once more. His penetrating stare hadn’t left me for a moment.
Dad followed my gaze and sighed quietly. “Don’t go too close.” Then he faced the prisoners. “If any of you try anything, I’m going to make you regret it.”
The promise of violence in Dad’s voice made me shiver but I gave him a small smile before I moved farther into the room.
“Come to join in the fun?” Earl asked with a grim smile, revealing a bloody mouth that was missing a couple of teeth. That explained the bloody pliers on one of the tables. “Share your daddy’s bloodlust?”
I’d wanted a last confrontation but I hadn’t made up my mind if I could watch the torture Dad, Amo and Matteo certainly had in mind for the bikers. “Your dirty blood will never touch me,” I said simply, satisfied by the coldness of my voice.
Seeing Maddox tied up to the chair, I had to resist the urge to rush over to him and free him. He wasn’t innocent, and I needed to make sure I could really trust him. Maybe he regretted his decision to help me escape already. Yet, in his eyes, I could see the same longing I felt and desperately tried to hide.
“Letting Daddy and your brother do the dirty work, whore?” Earl said, bursting through my thoughts, obviously growing frustrated at my lack of reaction. I tensed, remembering the ugly words tattooed on my back. Similar words would probably quickly make the rounds if people found out I’d slept with Maddox. If I was pregnant… I didn’t feel pregnant, and I didn’t want to consider the option. Right now I could only focus on one thing, if Maddox and I had a chance, if it even made sense to give us a chance.
Dad grabbed Earl by the throat, looking less human than I’d ever seen him. Amo was at his side. No trace of the little brother left I’d last seen before my kidnapping. These men would have scared me if they weren’t my blood, my protectors. If their unabashed rage and vengefulness weren’t emotions that simmered deep inside of me as well.
“No,” I said firmly, as much to Earl as to Dad and Amo. Dad didn’t loosen his hold on Earl, who was slowly turning red, spluttering as he fought for breath.
“Dad, don’t.”
Dad looked at me, obviously unsure of what I wanted. “Let us give him what he deserves. He’ll suffer more than any man has ever suffered.”
Did he think I wanted him to spare my tormentor? That was the last thing on my mind. Mom was the forgiving type, but even she would probably have Earl die a painful death at Dad’s hands if he asked her for her opinion. Of course, he’d never do such a thing because he didn’t want her to have blood on her hands.
“Let me dig his goddamn balls out with an ice cream spoon,” Amo growled, motioning at the assortment of knives, pliers, and other tools for torture spread out on a small wooden table.
My stomach turned at the display and blood pooling beneath it, and I dragged my eyes away. I wasn’t like Dad and Amo. I wasn’t like Mom either. I was somewhere in between. Capable of a certain amount of cruelness if driven to the brink but not capable of executing it myself. Maybe this was weakness, but I no longer strive for perfection.