Broken Truths (The Frayed Trilogy 2)

Chapter Three

SEBASTIAN

The echo of the gunshot rings through the warehouse as Ian’s lifeless eye stares towards the ceiling—the other swollen shut. A stream of crimson runs from the hole in his forehead, travelling between his brows and over his broken nose. But once it pools, it becomes unrecognisable amongst the blood already covering his face.

“Are you okay?” Easton asks, his voice cutting through the brief stupor I’d fallen into. He’s dead. The man who killed my parents is dead. Except it feels like the weight on my chest is even more crushing than before.

Not wanting to look at the bastard’s face or his fucking splattered brains on the warehouse floor a second longer, I turn away from the sight and slap the gun into Easton’s chest.

“Clean this shit up,” I say, storming off as soon as he’s taken the weapon from my hold.

Silence follows me as I walk away, but I sense Easton’s eyes trailing me as I leave. He’s been by my side for as long as I can remember. He was there for me when my parents died. I know he grieved their deaths, especially my mother’s, even if he buried it all to ensure I didn’t fall apart. Maybe he would have buried it anyways, though if I’m being honest, I’m not sure I could have made it through without him.

The first month was the hardest. All I’d wanted to do was drown myself in whiskey until I couldn’t feel anything, and I did, several times. Each time, East would make sure I got home, even if he had to half carry me out of Obsidian, then up to the penthouse. Or, if I were already home, he’d make sure I at least made it to bed. Then he’d be there in the morning, dragging me out of bed and into the shower. The ice-cold water usually shocked me out of the alcohol-induced haze enough so I could make it to the office, as well as wash away the scent of whiskey seeping from my pores. He knew I couldn’t afford to miss work, not when I’d just taken over my father’s company, and all eyes were on me. Eventually, I was able to numb the pain beneath a layer of ice that, at best, made me an asshole. At worst,it made me a killer.

Now I almost felt like I was back in that time where I could fall apart at any moment, except right now, all I wanted was to be alone.

The few men standing around the scene avoid eye contact with me, looking anywhere else as I pass them. With shallow breaths, I round the corner from the main area of the warehouse and slip into an empty office—not letting my composure break until I’m safely inside.Fuck.Taking a few deep breaths, I try to regain control before I fall apart or whatever the hell is happening. I knew this went beyond the fucking lowlife out there, and whilst a trickle of relief flows through me, my vengeance is far from sated.

What did Alexander Deveigne have against my parents—enough to have them killed? I can only assume it had something to do with my father, especially after yesterday’s meeting. But he’d also insulted my mother.

I’m not sure what my father’sbusiness dealingsused to be like, although I know exactly why he refused to deal in anything related to trafficking fucking people. He only ever mentioned it once, at least to me, and he didn’t go into many details. Sometimes he would check in on big shipments to make sure things were running smoothly. The ones where if shit got messed up, it wasn’t only money and business on the line. Except, one night, instead of the usual drugs or guns, he encounteredher,Elena. I don’t know much of her past or how she wound up stuffed on a ship with a group of women bound for a life of God knows fucking what, but I know he risked his life to save her. Risked everything. Whether he had purposefully made himself unaware of what he shipped for certain clients or he simply didn’t care, either way, everything changed the night he met her.

“Colton Reed was an idiot. And that whore of a wife made him weak.” Could Deveigne know any of that? I barely knew it, and he’s too young to have been dealing with my father before he changed the way he did business. Though what else would he mean by that? My hand flexes, remembering how Deveigne’s throat had felt squeezed beneath it.I could have ended it all at that moment. I fucking had him.

“Fuck!”The plaster crumbles under my fist, and I rip my hand out of the new hole in the wall.

With only the sound of my ragged breaths surrounding me in the dark room, the vibration against my thigh cuts through the noise. Sighing, I run the hand I just put through the wall through my hair before pulling my phone out of my pocket. As I’m about to look at the caller ID, the vibration stops, and a notification flashes on the screen, but my heart stutters when I see that it’s far from the only one.

Eight missed calls from Mason Taylor

One unread text

Mason:Call me immediately.

Shit.What the hell is going on? The first call is only time-stamped as ten minutes ago, but a pit opens in my stomach as I swipe his name to return the call. Mason picks up on the first ring, and I don’t even get a chance to speak before his voice carries through the phone.

“Sebastian, what the hell is going on?” Mason asks. The concern in his voice immediately has me on edge.

“What’s wrong?”

“You tell me, Sebastian,” he says, and the anger lacing his tone only has my heart pounding harder. “Grace leaves with your boy, and not even an hour later, I get a call that she just ran into the lobby in a blind panic with some guy chasing after her!”

“What?” I try to process everything he’s saying, but all I can focus on are his words of someone chasing her.

“She’s lucky she made it into the building before he caught up to her, and Marcus was able to get rid of him. Iknewsomething was off. I should never have let her leave… fuck!”

Hearing Mason so worried has my chest tightening to the point I have to force the air into my lungs. I’ve never seen him anything other than his usual quiet calm. “Is she okay? What the hell do you mean you let her leave?”

“I don’t know, Sebastian. Marcus said she was shaking and barely coherent. Where are you? I’m still ten minutes away, shit,” he curses, punctuated by a blaring car horn. “You best talk to Mr. Woods because I sure as fuck will be.”

Easton?I replay Mason’s words from before.She left with him?What the fuck was Easton doing with Grace? “I’m… out. I’ll meet you at the penthouse. Call me as soon as you’re there.”

“If anything happened to her, Sebastian…” The underlying threat in Mason’s voice is clear as day. I don’t know what the fuck happened, but I’m about to find out.

Ending the call, I rip open the door of the office I’d secluded myself in and head straight for the last place I saw Easton. When I round the corner, I immediately zero in on him having a heated conversation with one of his men, but I don’t give a shit about interrupting.

“What the fuck did you do?”