“Yes boss.”
“Hi Gruff,” Wren looks back at him, peering between the two seats. In the mirror I see him raise a brow and shake his head. “How’s the nose?”
“Healed but sore.”
She laughs turning back around and settling against the chair before turning her face to the window to watch the city roll by.
I reach across and squeeze her thigh, the shape of her legs clearly visible with the tight fitting pants, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Never been more ready.”
About ten minutes from our destination, Ryker passes something to Wren between the seats and with a frown she takes it, staring down at the piece of paper between her fingers.
I risk a glance over to find a picture of Wren and Rory, dressed in bikinis in front of a swimming pool. It appears to be somewhere abroad though I can’t tell where exactly, but they look…happy.
Wren’s fingers flex on the image, “Where did you get this?”
“I guess when Valentine took Rory, she had a handbag or something, one of Heart’s men retrieved this from a bunch of other personal belongings they found in the house.”
“We were in Egypt,” she says, “a year ago now.”
“I’m sorry, Wren. I tried,” Ryker says.
“I know,” she answers. “it’s not your fault.”
Wren stares down at the image for a little bit longer before she tucks it into the glove compartment and steels herself, lifting her chin and pushing back the emotion that I can see trying to force its way out.
That’s my girl.
Was I worried? Of course I fucking was, but I had to give this to her.
I squeeze her thigh once more before returning both hands to the steering wheel and stopping a few streets down from our destination.
There’s a number of dark SUVs lining the street, my men. When I climb out, they all do too and to my surprise, Kingston and a few of his men join us.
“Heart,” I greet.
“You didn’t think I’d miss out on all the fun, did you?” He grins.
“No Isobel?” Wren asks.
“She’s a little busy,” he says, eyeing her. “I’m sorry about your friend.” He says to her gently, showing a side to him I didn’t think existed.
She nods and swallows, curling her fingers into the palms of her hand. With a final look at her he turns to me, nodding once.
“Kill everyone,” I tell them, “no prisoners. No survivors.”
That’s the only plan. I don’t care how it is done, but they’re all meeting the reaper tonight.