Page 4 of Scarred Redemption

“Alright. Prepare yourselves. You’re going to experience a pungent stench caused by putrefaction and the rupture of charred tissue releasing trapped gasses. I’ll give you masks, but they won’t do much good.”

As soon as we were led into the examination room, the odor hit me, but it was the first time since the attack that my senses had felt remotely alive.

Roman coughed, snatching the offered mask while I waved it off. I needed to suffer as much as humanly possible.

I was supposed to have perished alongside my sweet girls, something I’d much prefer to living in this hell.

Dr. Caspian shook his head and walked toward a bank of steel morgue drawers, taking a deep breath before he yanked open one then another. Immediately, he took a step away, waiting for my reaction.

“Jesus Christ,” Roman hissed. He turned away and coughed several times while I walked closer. I had no reaction whatsoever.

After all, I was already dead inside.

“Tell me when you’re ready,” the doctor pressed. Obviously, he wasn’t interested in taking but so much time.

I moved closer, fighting crippling rage and despair. Everything about the situation and this moment was surreal. I could still feel Isabel’s light touch lingering on my skin, her voice telling me she’d hunt me if I took too long on the call that had called me outside the restaurant.

Then there was my daughter’s happy laughter from her sheer joy of being allowed her first birthday party. Her first fucking… birthday party.

“Go ahead.”

Dr. Caspian nodded before lowering the sheet on one, moving slowly toward the other. When what was left of both bodies was exposed, he backed away out of courtesy.

I’d seen my share of victims of horrific crimes, men and even women meeting their tragic end either through acts of violence or an accident. But nothing ever prepared you for the sight of someone you loved. Nothing.

Yet I didn’t react because I couldn’t. How could a man with as much hatred and rage as I’d experienced in two days not be able to respond emotionally or physically? How was that possible? I shifted my gaze from one to the other, sensing Roman keeping his distance. But his response, a strangled gasp of despair was entirely appropriate.

Yet I remained silent.

“You’re positive this is my fiancée and daughter?”

Dr. Caspian seemed frustrated. “I was lucky to find enough portions of the densest parts of their femurs to identify. There was also trace evidence of the jeweled necklace you described, although not much.”

I took one last look, reaching out as if to touch Isabel before curling my fingers and pulling away. “That’s all I need.”

“I’m very sorry for your loss.”

As I stormed out the door, I was cognizant of the intense chill cutting through my clothing, but nothing would calm the quiet fury that had settled into my system.

I didn’t stop until I was outside, finally taking a deep breath. With the heavy breeze creating a whistle in the overhanging limbs of the massive trees lining the property, I could swear I heard Isabel’s voice.

There was no way of denying the truth any longer. The two people I loved the most were dead. Murdered. I cinched my eyes shut while taking several deep breaths. There was no peace, no sense in bothering to try. I would remain angry and on edge until I hunted down the bastards involved.

Seeing two different vehicles with my men standing outside and parked only yards away, I became even more agitated than before.

My brain finally caught up with my vision. I snapped my head toward the two SUVs and reacted without thinking. Taking long strides, I had my hand wrapped around Kristoff’s throat before he had a chance of protecting himself. While squeezing with enough pressure he began to wheeze, I slammed his head against the passenger door several times.

All while the muddled sounds of men yelling echoed in my ears. Hands were grabbing at my arms, trying to pull me off what had been one of my most trusted soldiers.

“Where the fuck were you?” My snarl was sharp and full of hate while still pounding his head into the vehicle.

Kristoff’s eyes were open wide, one hand wrapped around my forearm and the other gripping my jacket. Yet he wasn’t trying to deny he’d been suspiciously absent when the bombs had gone off inside the restaurant.

“Where? Are you a part of this? Murdering them?”

“What the fuck are you doing?” Roman was in my face, ripping at my arm. “Let him go.”

“No,” I gritted out, not even bothering to look at my brother. He could go to hell as far as I was concerned. “He was on duty.”