Page 3 of Dark Reunion

“Back the fuck off,” he growled.

They paused.

“You’re coming with us whether you want to or not. Now we can do this the easy way and no one gets hurt, or you can do it the hard way.” Father motioned for the soldiers to continue.

They ripped the boys from behind Dean’s legs, hauling them up like sacks of grain as they kicked and cried. Small fists punched at the men’s faces to no avail.

“Don’t hurt them!” Dean roared, lunging…only to feel cold steel slam across his back, driving him to his knees. He cradled Isabella in his arms to protect her, but she was scared and started to cry.

A guard jammed a barrel against his skull. Dean’s father crouched low in front of him, smirking.

“Ah, there he is. The son I raised. On his knees where he belongs.”

Dean spat onto the old man’s shoes. “I will kill you. If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll kill you.”

The smile widened. “Good. Hate is strength. You will need it.” His father reached out, holding his arms open to take Isabella.

Fuck.

Hating every second of this, Dean, slowly passed Isabella over.

“Excellent, now we can get going.” Father motioned with his gun once more like he was directing an orchestra. Dean watched as his father handed Isabella over to Yasmine and grabbed Tate from the guard, “Load them.”

Chaos erupted. The children shrieked, Yasmine screamed like a banshee, trying to get a neighbour’s attention. Dean was dragged to his feet, wrists bound behind his back with zip ties, and shoved toward the gate. Neighbors’ curtains fluttered, faces briefly visible before vanishing in fear.

The convoy of SUVs and a long limo waited. Dean was shoved into the limo, and Yasmine, with Isabella and Aiden, were crammed beside him. A gunman sat in the front seat and two more in the back with them.

Dean sat rigid, fury burning under his skin, Yasmine’s hand clutching his leg like a lifeline. He would’ve given anything to have his hands free.

Through the tinted glass, he caught his father’s reflection in the lead vehicle, and Tate staring out the back window at the limo.

His father was such a fucking prick. The hatred hadn’t lessoned over the years. It had just been smoldering, ready to ignite and burn even brighter.

Dean forced his breathing to steady. He couldn’t save them here. But he swore, as the convoy rolled away from their home, that this would be the last time his father ever touched what belonged to him.

No matter how long it took, no matter how much blood had to be spilled…he would end this.