Rafael Martinez Part 2

"Safe, with eyes and ears present," I inform. We hope the shock of seeing it on screen is less than if she were here. At least the sound of bones breaking will be muffled.

"See, Brooke?" he shouts into the air. "I tried to protect you."

I step forward, slapping him across the face with the back of my hand, his head snapping to the side from the force of the blow.

"You don’t address her. I thought I made that clear months ago." I grab his disgusting fingers, the ones he used to mark my woman’s skin. "And you definitely don’t put your filthy hands on her."

I twist two of his fingers in the opposite direction, hearing the satisfying crack of bone beneath his agonized screams.

Kyle steps beside me, and I’m almost sure that from this angle Patrick’s body is out of Brooke’s view.

"Did he hurt her?" Kyle asks, his tone hard as steel.

"He grabbed her and threw her on the couch," Seth answers. So that’s what he saw.

Kyle pulls the gun from his waistband and shoots Patrick in the knee so fast I only register what happened when I feel the blood splatter on my arms. Patrick’s tormented scream tastes like fine wine—something you’ve waited a long time to savor.

This is the man who terrorized my woman for months, who stalked and insulted her. I can’t find room for empathy for what he’s lost. If he had come after us directly instead of involving her in his revenge plan, maybe I could understand, accept, even show mercy.

That’s not the case.

"We understand your motivation, Matteo." Patrick’s eyes widen when Seth uses his real name. "Yeah, we know who you are. Took a while, it’s true, but we figured it out."

"Your plan was good..." Kyle says.

"But it had a flaw from the beginning..." I add.

"Using Brooke to get close to us, to learn about us, was smart, I’ll admit that," Seth says, polishing one of his daggers as he stares at Patrick. "But getting involved with her, hurting her, and all the obsession that followed? That’s just pathetic."

Seth slides the blade’s tip across the exposed skin of Patrick’s forearm, making him flinch. He glares at us with so much hatred—how did we never notice?

"Who else is working with you?" I ask. "Because I know you couldn’t have orchestrated all this alone."

Appealing to his pride is a sure hit—his entire behavior so far describes a man with an inflated sense of importance, the hero narrative he built in his head to justify his actions, the way he always treated Brooke.

"You always thought you were so superior," he sneers. "Walking around with your hero act, like you’re the best in the world."

Seth slices his arm, a deep horizontal cut, making blood gush and pool at his feet.

"My brother asked you a question," he adds.

"We know you don’t have the necessary capability, Matteo," Kyle taunts. "It’s really a shame Carlo died in the war. He was the best, your father’s pride, wasn’t he?"

Renewed rage takes over Patrick’s face and he thrashes against the restraints.

"Don’t say his name. He’s dead because of your incompetence."

"Who’s working with you?" Seth repeats, cutting his other arm.

Patrick screams and struggles against the restraints.

"It must be killing you that I fooled you, that I infiltrated your lives so easily, your home. And it wasn’t even hard, you know?" He tries to adjust his posture, to sit upright. "It was easy after I got access to the Marines’ file. When I found your names, I started looking for a weak spot. You’d feel the same pain I did."

He smirks with malice.

"That’s when I found Brooke. After bribing the admissions office, I was in your college, and she was so naïve, so easy." He looks from Kyle to me and then to Seth. "But you already knew that." His tone leaves no doubt about the meaning behind his words.

My fist collides with the side of his face, knocking him over with the chair.

Before any of us can move to lift him off the ground, a shot hits the center of his chest, the sound echoing through the garage, and I turn with my gun drawn and ready.

Brooke stands at the door, sunlight illuminating her from behind and holy shit, this woman armed and pissed off is sexy as hell.

"I’ve heard enough," she declares, walking toward us. "There’s no reason to prolong the inevitable, especially since no torture beats death." She stops over Patrick’s body, who’s breathing with difficulty.

"I should’ve killed you when I had the chance. Sparing you was a mistake." He coughs blood with the effort to speak.

"Yeah, it was." She fires again.

Ruthless.
Fatal.
Lethal.

The shot hits the center of his forehead, disfiguring his face at close range.

Brooke turns to us, locking the gun and handing over the grip. I take the pistol from her hands.

"And next time you plan to use me as bait, let me know." She turns her back and heads into the house.

My brothers and I exchange glances before following her.

Kyle pulls her into his chest, and Seth and I join the hug, wrapping her in a kind of cocoon.

"There won’t be a next time," I assure.

"Never again," my brothers agree.