The front door is kicked open, and Jax appears in the doorway. The guard lifts his gun to shoot him, but I aim my Glock and hit him in the back of his skull. Jax watches the guard hit his knees before he plummets face-first to the floor.
“Who are you? Who sent you?” Hugo questions pointing a gun he Houdinied out of thin air at Jax, who smirks and shrugs.
“Oh, I’m not the one you need to worry about, old man.” Jax looks over at me and gestures with his brows toward me.
I rise to my full length and step out from behind the staircase, and Hugo’s blue eyes go wide when he sees me standing before him. “Damien.” I glare at him menacingly for a long time.
“Drop the gun, Hugo.” The gun slips from his fingers and clatters on the floor. “Now kick it away toward my colleague there.” Hugo kicks the gun toward Jax. I gesture for Jax to check the rest of the house, and he nods curtly and walks off. I walk over to Hugo, rubbing my jaw gingerly while he looks on warily. “You and I have some issues to hash out Quintero.” I kick a chair toward him and motion for him to sit.
“Look, if you’re here about Ezra—”
“Shut the fuck up and sit down!” Hugo sinks into the chair and lifts his fear-filled gaze to me. “You have no idea how long I have been waiting and dreamt of this very moment.”
“We’re going to get to what you did to Ezra in a moment. But first, you and I are going to take a trip down memory lane.” I mutter, moving closer to him, and Hugo’s thick, dark brows draw together. “I lived and breathed the moment I got to look in the eyes of the man that wrecked my life, and that moment has finally come…Eighteen fucking years.”
“W-what are you talking about? I didn’t even know you eighteen years ago.”
I swing my arm and punch him hard across the face. Hugo grunts, and his head snaps up to look at me again. “No, you fucking didn’t, you vile piece of shit. You’ve probably lost count of how many innocent lives you’ve abolished, right?” I grit out and punch him again. His head lulls forward, and I grip his head and lift it so he could look at me, a streak of blood seeping from his lips. “Adrian Saunders? Ring a bell?”
Hugo blinks, his face contorts with confusion, and his scowl deepens. “A-drian? How do you know…”
“Adrian Saunders was my father.” I hiss and swing my arm, hitting him with an uppercut. The chair flies backward from the force, and Hugo hits the floor in a daze.
I lean over and grab him by the lapels of his grey suit jacket and lift his face to mine. “Do you remember the day that you sent your cronies to kill my father and my mother? Because I fucking do! I have relived that moment in my head endlessly for the last eighteen fucking years, you son of a bitch. I was ten years old, and I had to watch them blow my parent's head off. I lost everything that day, my parents, my sister, my whole goddamn life.” I hiss gravely.
I pull him up to his feet, and he staggers, his face bloodied.
“Your father stole from me. He bit the hand that fed him, h-he knew the r-rules…” Hugo wheezes, wiping away the blood that seeps from the side of his mouth. “He was well aware his actions came with consequences--your father was no saint, Damien.”
“Shut the fuck up!” I roar, and lifting my leg, I ram my foot hard against his knee, snapping it. Hugo screams with pain and hits the floor, holding his leg. “What about my mother, huh? What did she ever do to you? What did she do to warrant her getting her head blown off? WHAT? ANSWER ME!” I bellow in his face, and Hugo only looks up at me; trepidation glows in his eyes, his chest rising and falling quickly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“I’m going to shatter every bone in your body. You’re going to feel every bit of pain I suffered the last eighteen years. Everything you did to my family, especially Ezra.”
I raise my fist to bash him, but he holds his hand up, sobbing. “Stop! You haven’t lost all of your family. Your sister…she’s alive.”
I blanch at his words, and my fist halts mid-air. “What?” I croak.
“Your sister is alive. I can tell you where she is.”
“I don’t believe you. You’ll say and do anything to save your own ass.” I pull my fist back again, and he winces.
“I’m not lying. I swear, Damien, she’s alive.”
“Talk!”