"Hendrix, I will find the truth." I spat the words like a promise. "I'm not like Leila—you know that. I could take the blame and go to prison for her. I could also kill for her. Anyone who hurts her, I won't spare. That includes you."
Hearing her name again, Hendrix shut his eyes as if exhausted. "Vienna, you know I wouldn't raise a hand against you. Leila is gone. I don't want to be your enemy. Let Cassidy go. Let yourself go."
He left with Cassidy. I returned to the tiny home I'd lived in before prison—every trace of my sister had long since been erased. But the scenes of my life five years ago were still seared into my memory.
After our parents were killed by our enemies, Hendrix—the foster brother who became our only support—taught me to kill and to survive. With a cleaver and a gun, he and I took revenge for our parents in a wave of blood. We shared the same vow: protect Leila at any cost.
Then one accident exposed Leila to our enemies; she was taken and tortured for three days and nights. Hendrix alone carried a hundred deaths on his shoulders to bring her back. He was drenched in blood but only cared for Leila's wounds. It was then I realized the man I loved loved my sister.