I let out a slow breath as I stepped out of the truck, the cold night air brushing against my skin. My women followed, boots hitting the ground in unison as they moved toward the back.

  The two women were dragged out next—limp, unconscious, finally quiet. No more screaming. No more begging. I was almost disappointed by how small they looked now.

  "Llévas al tercer nivel del garaje," (take them to the third level of the garage) I ordered.

  They obeyed immediately, hoisting the bodies over their shoulders and moving with practiced efficiency. I walked behind them at an unhurried pace, my mind far away.

  I gnced up toward the house.

  My house.

  Somewhere inside, Miguel was still asleep, curled safely in my bed, unaware of what I was doing for him. The thought steadied me, softened the edge of the rage coiled in my chest.

  "I'll be back in bed soon," I murmured, more a promise than a thought.

  We reached the far end of the garage, where smooth white walls met empty space—no handle, no keypad, nothing that suggested an entrance. To anyone else, it was just another wall.

  I stopped and pced my hand over it.

  A faint mechanical hum answered me, and the invisible door slid open seamlessly, revealing an elevator hidden within the structure. Cold air rose from below, carrying the faint scent of oil, metal, and something far more serious.

  The doors closed behind us, and the elevator descended.

  Past the first underground level—a conventional garage, spotless and massive—we kept going.

  Down to the third.

  The doors opened to my war room.

  Bright industrial lights flickered on automatically, illuminating rows of weapons mounted with precision, racks of gear arranged by purpose, not vanity. Crates of ammunition. Tactical equipment. Maps lining the walls. At the far end, looming like a sleeping beast, sat a military-grade tank—reserved only for situations where the world truly went to hell.

  Emergencies only.

  My women carried the bodies inside and dropped them without ceremony.

  I stepped forward, boots echoing softly against the concrete floor, and looked down at the two women who had shattered Miguel's life.

  Unconscious. For now.

  I folded my arms slowly, my expression calm, almost serene.

  "This," I said quietly, "is where you start paying."

  Above us, my home stood peaceful and warm.

  Below it, justice was about to wake up.

  I slid my knife from its sheath, the soft metallic whisper barely audible in the vast room. My fingers tightened around the handle—

  Then I stopped.

  No.

  Rushing this would be a kindness they didn't deserve.

  Fear needed time to bloom. To settle in their bones. To let them wake up slowly, disoriented, realizing exactly where they were... and how far away mercy was.

  "Strap them to chairs," I said calmly. "I'm done for the night."

  My women didn't question me. They never did.

  "I want to go y with my Miguel."

  I turned and stepped back into the elevator, the doors sealing shut behind me. As it rose, I closed my eyes and let the rage drain away, repced by something softer—protective, aching, human.

  By the time I reached the first floor, my face was composed again.

  I moved out the garage and into the house, my boots quieter now, my steps lighter. Inside, two security guards were talking in low voices. They straightened the moment they saw me and nodded respectfully as I passed.

  I took the stairs two at a time.

  At my bedroom door, Le stood watch, rifle resting easily in her hands. She shifted aside when she saw me approach.

  "Thanks, Le," I murmured.

  She nodded once. Nothing more needed to be said. I pushed the door open.

  Miguel was restless, tangled in the sheets, his brow furrowed. A soft, broken sound slipped from his lips.

  "Stop... please... no... don't touch me..."

  My chest tightened painfully.

  I crossed the room in seconds and slipped onto the bed, pulling him gently into my arms. The moment I held him, his breathing hitched, then slowly—slowly—began to steady.

  "Shh... you're safe," I whispered, pressing my forehead to his. "I've got you. No one's here but me."

  I wrapped myself around him, grounding him, shielding him from whatever ghosts were chasing him through his sleep.

  And as he clung to me, I made myself a silent vow that I had already made millions of times—

  No one would ever hurt him again.

  ———

  Donstions

  https://ko-fi.com/dayofdarkness666