Chapter 3 - The Sound of Retribution
The black SUV didn't just drive down the street;
it claimed it.
It was a massive,
armored beast that looked out of place among the suburban sedans.
It pulled into the driveway,
the tires crunching over the gravel with a sound like grinding teeth.
The engine cut out,
and for a moment,
the entire neighborhood seemed to hold its breath.
The door opened,
and Ethan stepped out.
He was tall,
dressed in a suit that cost more than Garrick's car,
his face a mask of cold,
calculated fury.
He didn't look at the house.
He didn't look at the flower beds.
He looked straight at me,
sitting on the porch steps,
covered in grass clippings and dried blood.
His jaw tightened,
a muscle leaping in his cheek.
He walked toward me,
his stride long and purposeful.
"Elena,"
he whispered,
his voice cracking for only a second before turning back into steel.
He reached down and gently touched my face,
his thumb wiping away a streak of dirt.
"They did this to you,"
he said,
it wasn't a question.
"I did what they asked,"
I managed to say,
my voice a ghost of its former self.
"I mowed the lawn,
Ethan."
He looked at the mower,
then back at the blood-stained front of my gown.
"They’re dead,"
he said quietly.
"They just don't know it yet."
The front door of the house opened with a sharp creak.
Garrick stepped out,
his chest puffed out,
ready to play the man of the house.
"Who the hell are you?"
he demanded,
pointing a finger at Ethan.
"This is private property."
"And Elena,
get inside,
you look like a mess."
Ethan didn't even turn his head to look at him.
He just kept his eyes on me.
"Can you walk?"
he asked.
"I can try,"
I replied.
He didn't wait for me to try.
He swept me up into his arms as if I weighed nothing,
careful to avoid the tender areas of my chest.
"Hey!"
Garrick shouted,
stepping off the porch.
"Put my wife down!"
Miriam appeared in the doorway behind him,
her face pale with shock.
"Garrick,
call the police!"
she shrieked.
"This man is kidnapping her!"
Ethan finally turned,
his gaze landing on Garrick like a physical weight.
"My name is Ethan Vance,"
he said,
his voice projecting with a terrifying clarity.
"I own the firm that handles your company's logistics,
Garrick."
"I own the mortgage on this house through three different shell companies."
"And most importantly,
I am the man who is going to take everything you have ever touched."
Garrick froze,
his mouth hanging open.
The name 'Vance' was legendary in the Texas business world.
It was a name associated with power,
ruthlessness,
and untouchable wealth.
"Elena...
your brother..."
Garrick stammered,
his bravado vanishing like smoke in a gale.
"You told us he was a low-life!"
Miriam yelled from the door,
her finger shaking as she pointed at me.
"You lied to us!"
"No,"
I said,
leaning my head against Ethan’s shoulder.
"You just never bothered to ask the truth."
"You were too busy looking down on me to see who was standing behind me."
Ethan carried me to the SUV,
his movements smooth and steady.
He placed me in the back seat,
where a woman in a nurse's uniform was already waiting with medical supplies.
"Drive,"
Ethan said to the man in the front seat.
As we pulled away,
I looked back through the tinted glass.
Garrick was standing in the middle of the driveway,
looking small and pathetic.
Miriam was on the porch,
clutching her chest,
trying to look like a martyr.
May you like
They were still in their 'Christian' household.
But the walls were already starting to crumble.
