[Summer's POV] [Earlier in the day]
My phone feels like a dead weight in my hand as I press send on the text to Taevion. Every word makes bile rise in my throat, but I need this bastard out of his house. The screen blurs as I read his disgusting response, my fingers trembling with rage as I type back whatever will keep him thinking I'm coming.
"Fucking disgusting pig," I mutter, shoving my phone into my pocket.
I just got off the phone with Jonah. My ICE agent brother, was surprisingly eager to help when I explained the situation. Not the full situation, of course. Just enough about Taevion's operation to get him salivating at the bust opportunity.
"Hell yeah. Anyone who wants to fuck with you and Scott can get fucked!" Jonah had said, his voice crackling with excitement.
I decide to leave my phone behind since I share its location with Scott. If he texts me, he might see I'm not home.
The morning air is crisp against my face as I walk toward the park, taking my time. No need to rush when Taevion thinks I'm on my way to service him like the old days. My stomach lurches at the thought, but satisfaction burns brighter. I'm about to destroy the man who destroyed my marriage, who turned me into someone I didn't recognize.
Riverside Park comes into view, its trees swaying gently in the breeze. I wonder if Jonah would let me kill Taevion.
As I round the corner near the pavilion, my breath catches in my throat. The ICE tactical truck is already there, massive and intimidating in the sun. I didn't expect them to move this quickly. Jonah must have been serious about having everything in place already.
Men in full riot gear swarm around Taevion's crew like angry hornets. I count nearly twenty officers, their bulletproof vests emblazoned with ICE in bold yellow letters. They're zip-tying hands, shouting orders, methodically processing each gang member.
And there, in the center of it all, is Taevion. His designer clothes look pathetic now as two officers force him to the ground. He's thrashing wildly, his face contorted with rage.
"You can't do this! I'm a fucking American citizen!" he screams, spittle flying from his mouth as he struggles against the restraints. "I know my rights!"
Jonah steps forward, his face hard as stone, and slams the butt of his rifle straight into Taevion's jaw. The crack makes me wince, but I can't look away.
"Yeah, fucking right," Jonah spits, looming over Taevion's crumpled form. "I don't see any proof of that."
My brother laughs, that familiar sound that always reminded me of schoolyard bullies. There's a casual cruelty in his stance that makes my skin crawl, but I push the feeling aside. Not my problem today.
"Hey, Jonah," I call out, stepping closer to the scene.
He turns, his expression instantly softening as he spots me. The transformation is jarring, from cold-blooded agent to big brother in a heartbeat.
"Summer, hey!" His smile stretches wide across his face as he waves me over.
"So what's the plan?" I ask, nodding toward Taevion and his crew, all zip-tied and lined up on the ground like fallen dominoes.
Jonah rests his rifle against his shoulder, looking pleased with himself. "I was thinking I'd ship them off to a prison in El Salvador."
"What happens to them there?"
He shrugs, casual as if we're discussing dinner plans. "How would I know? We never hear from them again." He laughs, the sound echoing across the park.
My stomach churns. The ease with which he can do this, ruin lives, disappear people, sickens me to my core. Yet I can't deny the twisted relief I feel watching Taevion squirm in the dirt. This one time, my brother's moral flexibility is exactly what I need.
I step closer to Jonah, lowering my voice. "Hey, would you possibly let me kill Taevion?"
His head snaps toward me, eyes widening in shock. "Sis, what the fuck? You're not a killer."
I lean in even closer, my voice barely audible. "He raped me, though, Jonah." The lie one of the easiest I've ever had to tell.
The color drains from my brother's face. He stares at me for a long moment, something dangerous flickering in his eyes. Then he sighs heavily.
"I can't let you kill him," he says finally.
Before I can process my disappointment, Jonah turns away from me and shouts to his men. "Release that man!" He points directly at Taevion.
Confusion washes over me. What is he doing? Two officers exchange puzzled glances but move to comply, cutting Taevion's zip ties.
Taevion laughs as he gets to his feet, brushing dirt from his expensive clothes. His eyes find mine, and a familiar smile spreads across his face.
Taevion's eyes are still locked on mine, that smug smirk my blood boil, when suddenly the air explodes with sound. I flinch instinctively as gunshots tear through the quiet park, the rapid staccato of rifle fire so loud it feels like my eardrums might burst.
"HE HAS A WEAPON!" Jonah bellows, his voice barely cutting through the deafening barrage.
My brother fires round after round into Taevion's body, the impacts jerking him like a grotesque marionette. Blood blooms across Taevion's designer shirt in spreading crimson flowers. His face transforms from smug confidence to shocked disbelief as his legs buckle beneath him.
I stand frozen, unable to process what's happening. Taevion crumples to the ground, his body twitching as blood pools beneath him on the park grass. Jonah keeps firing until his magazine empties with a hollow click.
My brother turns to me, his face a cold mask. "Did you see that? He was reaching for a weapon."
I stare at Taevion's body. There's no weapon. Not even the suggestion of one. Just a man bleeding out on the grass while officers stand around in shocked silence.
My smile stretches so wide across my face it almost hurts. "Of course I saw," I tell Jonah, stepping over the pools of blood that are spreading like dark islands across the grass.
I wrap my arms around my brother, feeling the hard edges of his tactical vest against my chest. "Thank you," I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. "Seriously, thank you."
When I pull back, Jonah's eyes meet mine, that familiar protective gleam I remember from childhood now tinged with something darker, more dangerous.
"Do you mind if I grab something from him?" I ask, gesturing toward Taevion's riddled body.
Jonah nods, his expression grim. "Of course. Take whatever you need."
I approach Taevion's body slowly, almost reverently. He looks like a piece of Swiss cheese, blood seeping from dozens of entry wounds, soaking into his designer clothes and turning the grass beneath him into a crimson swamp. The metallic scent of blood fills my nostrils as I crouch beside him.
His eyes are still open, glazed but somehow tracking my movements. He's not quite dead yet. I reach into his pocket, my fingers closing around his keys. Car and house, exactly what I need. As I pull them free, one of Jonah's fellow agents casually approaches, bending down to slip a small handgun into Taevion's limp fingers.
I scoff quietly but say nothing. The theater of law enforcement, a gun to justify the bullets. Maybe two years ago, I'd say something, but Taevion certainly deserves this.
Leaning closer to Taevion, I notice his lips moving, trying to form words despite the blood bubbling between them.
"I want you to know," I whisper, "the man who shot you was my brother. I told him to kill you."
His dying eyes focus on me with surprising clarity. "Crazy... bitch..." he manages, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth.
I pull back, smiling down at him as the last flicker of life fades from his eyes. "I guess so," I say softly.
Standing up, I turn back to Jonah, keys dangling from my fingers. "I'm outta here?"
He nods, scanning the park perimeter where curious onlookers are already gathering. "Yeah, we'll have a crowd here soon."
"See you later," I say, already walking toward the parking lot where Taevion's car sits, a beat-up Cadillac that's seen better days, nothing like the flashy vehicles he used to drive.
Taevion's car rumbles beneath me as I follow the familiar route to his house, the keys still warm in my palm. The drive is short, my mind racing faster than the engine. With Taevion dead in the park and his crew zip-tied and headed for who knows where, his stash is mine for the taking.
I park across the street, scanning the area for any stragglers. The neighborhood seems eerily quiet, as if it knows what just happened to its king. Taevion's house looks even more pathetic in daylight than I remembered, peeling paint, sagging porch, a far cry from the lifestyle he always bragged about.
The key slides into the lock with a satisfying click. Inside, the stench hits me immediately, stale cigarettes, unwashed clothes, and something sickeningly sweet that I recognize as heroin. My stomach turns, but I press on, stepping carefully over discarded takeout containers and empty liquor bottles.
"Disgusting," I mutter, wrinkling my nose as I survey the chaos.
I move quickly through the living room, ignoring the memories that threaten to surface. I'm not here for a trip down nightmare lane. I'm here for Scott.
In the back bedroom, I find what I'm looking for, a worn backpack tossed carelessly on the floor. I grab it and dump its contents, some clothes and empty baggies scattering across the stained carpet. Perfect.
The bathroom medicine cabinet yields a treasure trove of pills, OxyContin, Vicodin, Percocet, all neatly labeled in orange prescription bottles with names I don't recognize. I sweep them into the backpack, not bothering to count. In the kitchen, I find more little baggies of white and brown powder tucked inside a cereal box, behind the refrigerator, taped under the sink.
"Amateur hiding spots," I laugh, the sound echoing through the empty house.
I move methodically, checking every drawer, every cabinet, every possible hiding place. My fingers brush against a loose floorboard in the hallway, and it gives way to reveal a metal lockbox. Inside, I find the motherlode, dozens of bags of heroin and what I recognize immediately as fentanyl, those deadly little pouches of white powder that could kill with just a touch.
I carefully place everything in the backpack, my hands steady despite what I'm handling. With each item, I picture Scott, how I'll use just enough to keep him dependent on me, how I'll control the doses so carefully he'll never even know what's happening. Just enough to make him need me, never enough to hurt him.
"This is for us," I whisper, zipping the backpack closed with a smile. "For our future."
The backpack feels heavy with stolen drugs as I step onto Taevion's porch. I've done it, secured everything I need to keep Scott with me forever. The weight of all those pills and powders feels like victory strapped to my back.
I adjust the straps, feeling giddy with anticipation.
As I step down the stairs outside, I glance up and freeze mid-step. My heart stops beating.
Scott is staring at me through the open window of his car, parked right across the street. His eyes are wide, face pale with shock and betrayal. Our gazes lock, and in that moment, I know what he must be thinking. I've cheated on him again.
"Scott?" My voice comes out strangled, barely audible.
He doesn't respond. His face hardens into something I've never seen before, a cold, hollow mask of disgust. Before I can even take another step, he revs the engine and peels away from the curb, tires screeching against asphalt.
"Wait!" I scream, dropping the backpack and running into the street. "Scott, wait!"
But his car is already turning the corner, disappearing from view. Panic explodes in my chest, hot and suffocating. This can't be happening. Not now. Not when I'm so close.
"NO! NO! NO! NO! SCOTTY, NO!" My voice tears through the quiet neighborhood as I stand in the middle of the street, tears streaming down my face. I'm screaming so loudly my throat burns, but I can't stop. Everything is falling apart. My perfect plan, our future, all of it crumbling before my eyes.
I spin around, stumbling back to where I dropped the backpack. My hands shake violently as I grab it, clutching it to my chest like it's the only thing keeping me from drowning. These drugs were supposed to be our salvation, and now they might be what destroys us completely.
I need to get home. Need to explain. Need to fix this before it's too late.