In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)(88)

His face was harsh with rage and agony. And suddenly sound burst through the room where Ari was helpless to do anything but watch. Her father’s voice was hoarse, desperate, pleading.

“Leave her alone, damn it. Take me. Do whatever you want with me but leave her alone. She’s done nothing wrong. Take me, goddamn it!”

Tears burned Ari’s eyelids but she furiously blinked them away, determined for these *s watching her closely not to see how affected she was by the sight of her parents. How relieved she was they were alive even as terror snaked through her body when the man holding her mother’s head at an uncomfortable angle slowly drew a knife and placed it against the front of her neck.

Ari could see the stark fear in her eyes even as she visibly tried to prevent her husband from seeing just how terrified she was. Again, Ari felt a burst of pride, this time for her mother, because she didn’t want her husband to know just how scared she was. Her expression was defiant, a definite f*ck you look stamped on her delicate features. Even her eyes, after that first flash of fear, eyes that had never held anything but warmth, love and tenderness, were cold with hatred and defiance. She stared the men down holding her husband as if to tell them you can’t win. He’ll kill you. He’ll find a way and he’ll kill you.

Not if Ari had anything to do with it. She was going to take these bastards out herself or die trying.

Some causes were noble and just, even when steeped in violence, blood and . . . murder. Some fights, regardless of impossible odds, were still meant to be fought because unless you fought back there really was no hope. And Ari had to believe that somehow, someway, she would prevail and save her parents. Even if she herself was forfeit in the process.

Some things were simply worth fighting for. Worth it to the bitter end, with the very last breath. And Ari could think of no better reason than . . . love. Love for her parents. Love for Beau.

Defeat was merely the absence of hope. And until she’d exhausted every last avenue of hope then she would not—would never—concede. It was a vow echoing through her mind, shutting all else out.

Until her mother’s pained scream broke through the dark shadow of Ari’s thoughts. Through plans for death and retribution. She froze when a thin trickle of blood slithered down her mother’s neck as the * holding her sliced a shallow cut through her delicate skin.

Her father went crazy, his bellows of rage, his promises of retribution echoing her own thoughts. He managed to break free from his captors, and he flung himself across the cell, prepared to take apart with his bare hands the man hurting his wife.

And then her father’s body arced, bowing backward, his face contorted with pain as his extremities shook and twitched violently.

The cowardly bastards had tased him from behind. For one brief moment Ari thought her father would actually fight through the devastating effects of the stun gun, his determination to safeguard his wife overriding all else. But then another shot from one of the other guards dropped him like a stone and Ginger cried out, her movements causing more blood to flow from the cut that was now deeper because she’d instinctively lunged forward in a desperate attempt to shield her husband.

“Stop!” Ari cried. “Don’t kill her! For God’s sake, you’ve done enough! You’ve incapacitated my father, and if the bastard holding a knife to her throat makes one wrong move, he’ll kill her!”

“Then perhaps you should reconsider your rejection of our plans,” Goon A said coolly. “Because I have no compunction whatsoever about slicing her throat and letting you watch her bleed out, seeing her take her last breath and then letting her husband wake up in a pool of her blood next to her lifeless body.”

Ari shivered at the emotionless threat. But no, it wasn’t a threat. She could see his absolute resolve. Knew he’d carry out his promise if she offered any further resistance. Could she hold it together? Endure whatever they meted out so as not to be completely crippled afterward, so she would be able to destroy this awful place and every single person inside it except her parents.

Without knowing whether Beau was alive, she had to operate under the assumption he was so she made the right choices. This was no time to allow emotion to interfere with cold logic and what she knew to be absolutely true.

This man would order her mother’s death and suffer not one iota of remorse. And God only knew what they’d then do to her father when they no longer had her mother to force her compliance with.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” she said with calm she had no idea could be summoned in a situation that would normally have her paralyzed with fear, helpless to do anything but be some damn shrinking violet.

Fuck violets. She’d never liked them anyway. And the use of the F-word just strengthened her resolve to be the warrior Beau was. The warrior her parents needed. The warrior she must become.

Hardening herself for the ordeal ahead so she wouldn’t be incapacitated afterward would be the toughest test of her endurance yet. Beau wasn’t here to pick up the pieces, to coddle and comfort her.

But for her parents. For herself. For Beau. She could and would endure. And God help them all when she finally unleashed the full fury of her powers. Her gift. One, that for the first time in her life, she was grateful for and that she wholly embraced.

THIRTY-ONE

GAVIN Rochester flinched when he heard the telltale sound of the door leading into the hallway where the cells were aligned open. Then the thump of booted feet. More than one set.