A Matter Of Justice (Grey Justice #4)(98)

Dark kicked out, grazing Grey’s ribs with his steel-toed boot. Grey took advantage, grabbing the bastard’s leg and twisting hard. He felt the pop and Dark howled like a banshee.

Dark dropped to the floor, scrambling backward on his ass. “You broke my leg,” he screamed.

In his mind, Grey saw the image of Irelyn lying on the floor of Hill House, her leg broken because of this bastard. “Good.”

Dark slid his hand into his pocket and a gleaming knife appeared in his hand. Backing up against the wall, he braced himself against it and stood.

“Come and get me.”

Grey smiled. “My pleasure.” Kicking the knife out of his hand, Grey moved on him faster, ruthlessly. Kick to the face, punch to the gut. Dark teetered, his balance off, his eyes glassy.

Grey told himself to finish it. No matter how pitiful and helpless the bastard appeared right now, the evil would never stop until he was dead. He raised his fist for the killing blow.

Slumping slightly, Dark looked away from him and cried out, “Wait! Please. It’s not my fault. Hill made me this way. Just like he did Irelyn.”

The words penetrated, striking Grey where he was most vulnerable. What Dark spoke was true. Irelyn had told him that he had suffered the same things she had endured. Sebastian Dark was a product of what Hill Reed had made him.

Grey hesitated.

In a flash, a small whip appeared in Dark’s hand. He slashed out toward Grey, who managed to move in time to miss the brunt of it. Part of it still caught him on the side, leaving a stinging, bloody slice in his flesh.

“Son of a bitch!” Grey snarled.

The twisted smile on Dark’s face was more evil than any Grey had ever witnessed. He might have once been an abused little boy, but he had developed into a man who had nothing but evil left inside him. Without a moment’s hesitation, Grey grabbed the whip from Dark’s hand and then slammed his head into the wall behind him. Dark’s body slithered to the floor. His eyes were open, a surprised look frozen on his face.

Grey leaned over and checked for a pulse at his neck, his wrist. Assured that he was dead, Grey walked out of the mansion without a second glance. It was over, finished. The darkness that had stalked he and Irelyn for so long was finally over.

He could now return to the woman he adored, and their life could truly begin.





Epilogue





The Place Beyond The Mist

Ireland





She waited for him to come home to her. Before he’d left, she had told him about this place, had given him a detailed description. She wanted him to have an image in his mind, so he could know the peace that was waiting for him. She told him she would go back to Ireland and wait for him. It had been weeks, and still she waited.

Each morning when she rose, she would wonder if today would be the day. Others could have done this, she had told him, but he insisted this one was on him. She understood his need, but she worried. Oh, how she worried.

He had known of her concern, but she didn’t tell about the terror. How could she? How many times had she disappeared and forced him to wonder and worry? Grey had understood her need to rescue, to make a difference in her own way. He understood her. Just as she understood him.

Their honeymoon had been a lovely, idyllic five days of bliss in Tahiti. It was to have been longer, but he’d gotten the call to leave. She had wanted to stop him, to beg, if necessary, but she hadn’t. Never in her life had she sat back and let someone else fight a battle for her, but she had forced herself to do this for him. Grey needed this closure, just as she had needed the closure of ridding the world of Hill Reed.

He hadn’t given her details before he left. Just that Dark had been located, and they were making plans to breach his house. It sounded as though he had found himself a new fortress. How many men were protecting him? How many men would Grey have with him? He hadn’t volunteered the information, and she hadn’t asked.

As she had every morning, she dressed warmly and took a steaming mug of coffee and a blanket out to the porch. She settled into the rocking chair and allowed the mist to envelope her. As it surrounded her, she imagined herself in a peaceful cloud that evil could not penetrate. She sipped her coffee, dreaming of the day she would see the tall figure of a man walking toward her. His dark head would rise above that mist as he came closer. And she would know that he had come home to her.

She hadn’t expected to feel any different just because she was Grey’s wife. She had already loved him, was already committed to him. Why would marriage be any different? She had been so wrong. If possible, she loved him a thousand times more than before they were married. That commitment, that bond, was unlike anything she had ever known. They were one.

Individualism was very important to her, and she didn’t plan to give up who she was. Grey wouldn’t let her anyway. But in marriage, she felt more of a connection than she’d ever believed possible. For a woman who had always been firmly grounded in reality, she had no explanation other than it felt almost mystical.

No one in Dallas knew what Grey was doing. Everyone believed they were still on their honeymoon. Grey hadn’t wanted any of his people involved, and she understood. Both Kennedy and Lacey had texted her, asking about the honeymoon, and she had been as vague as she could be without actually lying. If his people knew what he was doing, they would likely move heaven and earth to try to help.