“Piece of shit,” I growl over his corpse.“No one will ever fear you again.”
The door bursts open. I whip my gun toward it, but then lower my gun as Scar crosses the threshold.
“Nitro’s found Trina hiding in a closet. She’s safe.” Scar glances at the body, then at the blood all over the wall.“What a fucking mess.”
“It was the only way.”
“Always is.”
Reaper appears at the threshold.“Clear?”
“Yeah.” Scar squats to check for a pulse.“Check the garage for a shovel.”
“We burying him here?” Reaper raises a brow because that’s not how we usually do things.
“Fuck no. This can’t come back to bite her in the ass. Roll this asshole up into that rug and bury him somewhere in the hills. The storm’s about to hit. No one will notice if he’s dripping blood off the back of your bike.” Scar heads for the door.“Meet us back at the clubhouse when it’s done.”
“Shit! Come back here!” Nitro yells from downstairs.
Scar and Reaper pull their guns and point them at the door. A disheveled Trina rushes toward the opening, but Scar catches her around the waist.“You don’t want to see that.”
“Is he dead?” she asks softly.
“Yes.”
“Then I need to see him. I have to know the nightmare’s finally over.” She lifts her chin and gives Scar a determined grimace.
“You’ll never get it out of your head,” Scar warns.
“There’s a lot of stuff I’ll never forget. But this, this I want to remember.”
“Go ahead.”
As he releases her, she steps around him. She takes tiny steps as she approaches the man who caused her decades of pain. When she’s finally standing over Hugo, she kicks his shoulder, as if making sure he’s really gone.
“I hate you!” She kicks him again and again, screaming the same refrain until she’s hoarse. We don’t intervene. Most survivors never get the chance to fight back without fear of retaliation. She needs this, and I’m not about to stop her.
After one last, well-aimed kick, she breaks down sobbing. Scar and Reaper look at me. I sigh before pulling her into a comforting hug. She’s old enough to be my mother, so there’s nothing weird about it. The moment makes me think about my mom. I can’t even remember what she looks like anymore. The last time I saw her, I was six years old. It’s been twenty-four years, and I still don’t know what happened to her. One day, I’m going to figure that shit out.
“You guys saved my life,” she whispers before releasing me.
“Your friend did that for you when she reached out,” Scar says.“No one can ever find out about what happened today. Are we clear on that?”
“Yes. Of course.” She pulls herself together and wipes tears from her cheeks.
“We’ll take care of getting rid of the body. Here’s what we need you to do: Wait until well after dark before you report him missing, but call the sheriff today. You don’t want him asking questions about why you waited more than a few hours before you called the cops.”
“Okay.” She nods.
“Tell them your husband never skips out on dinner—”
“That’s true.”
“—and that you got worried when he didn’t come home.”
“I will.”
“He’ll become a missing person. It takes seven years to be declared dead. I know that sounds like a long time, but it will be over before you know it.”
