Chapter 32: Hidden Heir: Chapter 32

Two weeks later, I’m standing with my arms crossed on the upper deck of a yacht in the middle of the ocean. Deep blue water stretches in every direction, reflecting the gorgeous blue sky above. Birds fly back and forth, weaving between the gorgeous white fluffy clouds that drift lazily. A warm breeze brushes arms.

I’m healing.

Slowly.

Part of me is certain some things will never heal, like the loss of sensation in my fingers and the twinge I feel in my wrist every time I pick up something heavy. My physiotherapist told me that will fade over time, but I don’t want it to. It serves as a good reminder.

Water laps at the hull of the yacht as we sit anchored above the infinite depths of the ocean. Our exact location is unknown; Leon insisted it was better that way. The less I know, the better.

I don’t care about the location, there’s only one thing I’m focused on.

On the deck below me, flanked by two guards holding assault rifles, kneels Paul Conti—the demon who turned my quiet life into a dark corner of hell. I see him every time I close my eyes. A restful night of sleep escapes me unless I take sleeping pills beforehand.

I want him to suffer.

The yacht rocks back and forth against the waves and Paul glances up, briefly meeting my eyes. I stare down coldly. I feel nothing for this human being. He looks so small now. Pathetic. His face is covered in bruises, his clothes hanging in rags about his body. He wheezes slightly each time he breathes in. Paul was kept in captivity while Leon and I were in the hospital. He was under Selina’s watchful eye and she was instructed to treat him appropriately.

But it’s not enough.

He destroyed so much of my life. I want to be the last thing he ever sees.

“Brooke?” Movement behind me sends a shiver up my spine. Leon approaches slowly. He has been walking with a cane ever since he got the cast off of his leg. His busted knee is taking time to heal but with physical therapy he’s getting stronger every day.

“Hey.”

“Are you sure you still want to do this?”

I look down at Paul and nod. “I need to.”

“There’s no going back once it’s done.”

“I know but I need to do this. I have so much anger inside me and I need to let it out. I need to make sure I have a hand in this. It will help me to know that he can never hurt me again. It’s all well and good for you to promise that you will protect me but…” I pause and sigh softly, rubbing my hands up and down my arm. “I need to do this to protect myself.”

“I understand,” Leon says gently. “I’m just making sure.”

I flash him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“We’ll start soon,” Leon says. “Once they get here.”

“I’m in no rush.” My attention drifts back to Paul. “I like watching him squirm.”

Leon leans over, lightly kisses my temple, then limps away. The people we’re waiting for are seen far in the distance, a black dot on the horizon that’s getting bigger with each passing second. I’ve never met them before, but Leon tells me tradition and honor dictate that they be here to witness Paul’s trial, so we have to wait for them to arrive.

I stare down at Paul, replaying every painful, terrible thing he put me through in my mind like a record. It helps to secure my resolve. My next steps will be far from anything I’ve done in the past. It’s unsettling but I’m determined, and I know it’s the only way I’ll feel at peace.

Eventually, a speedboat pulls up alongside us and several men climb out. One man stands out. He is taller than the others with blonde hair, square spectacles, and a tan shirt that clings to an impressively muscular body. He squints up and down the boat, then spots Leon and walks toward him. They speak briefly but I’m too far away to hear what’s being said though by the way Paul pales considerably and his chin drops to his chest I have an idea.

Leon and the stranger vanish from sight only to reappear a few minutes later on the upper deck next to me.

“Brooke,” Leon says, pulling my attention away from Paul. “This is Ronan Murphy. He’s the Captain of the Irish Mafia.”

“The Captain,” I repeat softly, staring up into his green eyes. “As in the leader?”

Ronan nods. “Consider me the Irish version of Leonity,” he says in a husky Irish brogue. “I have heard impressive things about you.”

“Really?” I squint up at him. “I haven’t done anything.”

“A woman that survived three weeks of torture and then shot Leonity Koval,” Ronan chuckles deeply. “I’d say that’s doing something impressive.”

Leon rolls his eyes slightly but he smiles. “News travels fast.”

“Indeed.” Ronan holds out his hand. “Brooke, I hope you can accept my deepest apologies for what happened to you and your family. I realize this won’t mean much, but Paul deviated so extremely from the norm that it’s difficult to stomach that he acted this way under my name.”

So Paul was Ronan’s responsibility? I eye Ronan’s hand, unsure if I want to accept.

“He was under your control and you allowed him do this?”

Ronan keeps his hand out. “Paul’s family is very small in a large school of fish though that does not excuse my lack of vigilance over his actions. When I learned of the missing drug shipment, I was informed that they believed the Russians had a hand in swiping it. I ordered an investigation, unaware that Paul already had a suspect and was attempting to start a side business. It’s my understanding that he was happy for the Russians to take the blame for the missing shipment, interrogating you so severely in an attempt to secure the drugs for himself and make money on the side. When I came to the city to investigate, that’s when he kidnapped you and Leon. He wanted to try and make it look like my presence had triggered Leon’s decision to flee.”

“If I was running for that kind of pocket change you could hardly call me Pakhan,” Leon murmured.

“Indeed that’s true. His reasons do not excuse his actions however, and I am deeply sorry that you suffered at the hands of men wearing my insignia. If you need anything from me, now or in the future, know that I will not hesitate to make amends.”

Ronan seems genuine. In fact, he might be the coolest member of the Mafia I’ve spoken to yet, ever since Paul turned up on my doorstep thrusting me into this world. I study his face for a moment before finally taking his hand.

“Thank you.”

Ronan smiles briefly, then glances over the railing to where Paul kneels below. “Have you decided what to do with him?”

I look at Leon who nods. “Yes. We just need you here as a witness because he is your man.”

“I am here as long as you need me,” Ronan replies.

Leon turns to me, offering his arm. “Are you ready?”

I look down at Paul and then back to Leon. “Yes.” As I take his arm and we step away toward the stairs, an idea strikes me. I glance back at Ronan. “If you truly want to make amends, maybe you can help me with a project.”

“Whatever you need,” Ronan replies immediately. “We’ll talk after.”

Leon leads the way down the stairs and over to Paul, who is visibly trembling. My heart races, fearing that he’s going to surge up and attack me. I tell myself over and over again that he’s restrained and I am safe.

“Why is Ronan here?” Paul snarls, blood dribbling from his lower lip. “Do you think his presence scares me?”

Above us, Ronan leans against the railing and stares down.

“He’s here because our laws demand the head of an organization is present for any trial of one of their own,” Leon tells him. “Not that you would know anything about following rules or tradition.”

“So what do you plan to do?” He licks his lips and raises his chin in defiance as he glares at Leon. “Gonna rough me up a bit more? Show off your strength to your whore?”

Each word out of his mouth stokes the anger inside me. Never in my life have I felt such an all-consuming rage. It rises inside me like a fever and my stomach twists into knots.

“Me? I’m not going to do anything. Brooke, on the other hand…”

Paul’s eyes slide over to me, filled with uncertainty. “You? What the fuck are you going to do? Slap me?” He laughs hoarsely. “At least give me the respect of facing real power.”

“I never thought of myself as a cruel person,” I begin, my voice quiet. “I tried to keep my head down in life. All I wanted was to grow flowers and create beautiful arrangements that made people smile, raise my daughter, and protect my family. Maybe take a holiday every few years. That’s all I wanted. But you took that from me.”

Paul’s eyes narrow.

“You tried to destroy me, showing me parts of myself that I didn’t know existed. You showed me that as a woman and as a mother, I need to consider insanity in order to help rid the world of psychopaths like you. I don’t want my daughter growing up believing that one fucker’s greedy scheme can destroy her entire life.”

My voice trembles slightly but I recenter and force myself to keep looking at him.

Behind him, one of the men that arrived with Ronan appears, dragging a large, empty oil barrel. The metal scrapes obnoxiously across the deck, but each time Paul tries to look, one of the guards flanking him shoves him forward.

“You came into my store, destroyed it, and attacked me. You threatened my daughter in the most horrific ways. You tried to force me to sell myself for sex to pay off some fucking debt that wasn’t even mine. And then you burned down my flower shop.” The images of the hollowed-out shell of my store displayed on the news flash in mind. “You tortured and murdered my babysitter, Hannah. She was innocent.” My stomach churns at the thought of the picture they sent me, another motivator for ensuring Leon put an end to his old business ways. “She did nothing wrong and you killed her.”

Paul suddenly can’t meet my eyes.

“You killed my brother. Yes, he was an asshole. Possibly even just as horrible as you but he was still my brother, and you murdered him. You beat me, you mutilated me. You’ve scarred my body and attempted to break my soul. You’ve taken more from me than anyone should ever be able to take, and all because you’re a greedy, selfish fucking piece of shit.”

The tremble finally leaves my voice as Paul is hauled to his feet by the guards.

“Wait—!”

“Lucky for you, I’m going to make sure that you only experience a fraction of the hell you put me through. You’re going to be scared. You’re going to feel like your chest is about to explode, like someone has their boot on your neck. You’re going to be alone and adrift in darkness, begging for a death that will come slowly. Do you understand me?” I walk forward as he’s dragged back toward the barrel. “You’re going to suffer for a long, long time. And I’m going to enjoy every fucking second of it, you monster.”

“Wait, wait! Ronan!” Paul yells. “Ronan, you can’t let this happen! I’m one of yours! This isn’t right! This fucking bitch is crazy! Ronan, please!”

Paul’s frantic begging and pleading lands on deaf ears as he’s hauled upward and dropped into the oil barrel. He tries to scramble out but one swift punch from a guard and he’s back down in a daze. Leon walks forward and motions for the guard to begin securing the lid. The guard picks it up and starts to slide it over the top but pauses when I approach. I stare in at Paul.

“Look at me, Paul,” I say softly. “Look at who beat you. It wasn’t someone from your world. It wasn’t a soldier. Wasn’t even someone with a gun. It was me, a woman florist.” I wanted my face to be the last thing he ever saw.

The lid is closed and Leon and I step back. Paul’s cries for help are immediately drowned out by the flare of a blowtorch as one of the guards secures the seal. Leon’s hand slides into mine and he grips it tightly. I silently watch as the colors of the flare turn from yellow, to white, and finally red as it melts the seam together.

Paul kicks and thrashes inside the barrel and the thumps echo across the deck, along with his screams. My heart swells as the dark angry shadow inside me begins to fade.

I need him to suffer. I need him to die a slow, painful death because it’s the only thing that will make up for the trauma I now have to live with. Knowing he’s dead is the only thing that will bring me peace.

Once the lid is sealed, the barrel is dragged to the edge of the deck where several cement blocks are chained to it. It teeters dangerously as the guards await the order. Leon squeezes my hand, and I look up into his eyes.

“Last chance,” he says softly.

“Do it.”

The guards obey and the barrel containing Paul Conti is tossed overboard. It lands with a loud splash, sending water washing over the deck. Walking forward, I stare down at the waves and watch as the barrel sinks beneath the water. I watch as it descends down into the darkness, becoming no longer visible.

Peace settles over my shoulders and tears of relief spring behind my eyes.

Paul is gone.

He can never hurt me again.

Leon remains by my side until I’m ready to step away. When I do, I cup his face and place a gentle kiss on his lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For allowing me to get closure.”

Leon nods and kisses me again, nudging our noses together. “Of course.”

Hand in hand, we climb the steps back to the upper deck where we’re greeted with a glass of vodka, scotch for Ronan. He doesn’t comment on what he just witnessed other than a nod toward Leon, conveying a silent understanding between the two leaders.

“So,” Ronan says. “Tell me about your project.”

I drink slowly, soaking up the sharp sting of the alcohol as it weaves down my throat. “We’re ending Russian involvement in human trafficking.”

Ronan chokes on his scotch, his eyes darting between us. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Leon replies. “You could say my eyes have been opened to the value of life.”

“I’m surprised to hear this.” Ronan straightens up. “Your family has been balls deep in blood money for decades.”

“Well, not anymore. But Leon has informed me that you have connections all over the world that rival his own. In fact, maybe even more.”

Ronan’s brow lifts at the compliment. “Indeed.”

“With that in mind, I’m thinking you can help us.”

“With?”

“Every soul currently in our possession will be given brand new lives, or returned to their old ones if they so choose. And we’re going to take care of them. We have names, travel routes, and destinations of everyone who has ever passed through those warehouses. I want to find them,” I explain.

“All of them?” Ronan doesn’t try to hide his surprise.

“All of them,” I echo.

“That is an enormous task,” he remarks. “I can’t even fathom the cost or time that will require to find every single person.”

“If it takes every last cent,” Leon says. “If they can be found then I want to find them. It’s the only way I can begin to make up for the pain my family has caused over the years.”

“Your father, what did he have to say about this?” Ronan asks.

Leon and I exchange a look. “My father had a change of heart after what happened. He recently learned he’s a grandfather so his outlook has shifted,” Leon explains.

“We need to do this,” he continues. “I need to do this. Too many people got hurt and this was just one drug deal. My life is different now. I want to make sure we save and help as many people as we can.”

“Admirable,” Ronan replies, draining his glass.

“So.” I take his empty glass from him and refill it. “Will you help us?”