a break in

Maya killed the headlights a block early. The industrial street sat quiet except for the tick of the engine. Sofia’s phone still put the blue dot inside the two-story warehouse at the end of the row. Warm light had been in the upstairs windows a minute ago. Then it died all at once.

Elena was already out of the car.

“He’s in there,” Maya said.

“I know.” Elena scanned the lot, the side alley, the metal box on the outer wall. She pointed once. “Breaker. You take the front. Loud. Keep his eyes on you. I cut the power and come in behind him.”

Maya’s hands flexed on the wheel. “If he moves them—”

“He won’t get the chance.” Elena leaned in the open door, close enough that Maya had to look at her. “Trust your big sis. No one messes with my family.”

Maya nodded once, grabbed the crowbar from the floorboard, and was already walking.

Elena went the other way, low and fast, around the side of the building. The breaker box took a wrench and a hard pull. Sparks. The last of the interior lights died. She smiled without humor, picked the metal bat up off her shoulder, and started for the back corner so she could swing wide to the front once Maya had him busy.

Inside, Joseph was halfway down the stairs when the second sound hit.

It was a loud sound of breaking metal.

He turned and took the steps two at a time. The gallery was black. Every light he had just killed stayed dead. The warehouse had lost power. Only the thin wash of streetlight through the high windows gave him anything, long pale strips across the floor and the stacked bodies in the middle of it.

Another crash. Wood split. The front door came off its top hinge and swung inward like it had been shot.

Maya came through it with her shoulder first.

Tank top dark with sweat, curls stuck to her forehead, crowbar already in her right hand. She saw him on the stairs and did not waste the breath on a question.

She came straight at him.

Joseph opened his mouth. She did not let him use it. The crowbar cut the air where his head had been and smashed the railing instead. Splinters jumped. He dropped back a step and she was already on the next one, crowding him, using the extra reach and the extra muscle like she had been waiting all night for this exact hallway.

“Where are they!”

She swung again. He ducked under it and hit the gallery floor hard on his shoulder. She came down after him. The crowbar rang off concrete. He rolled, got a hand up, and she kicked the hand away and put a boot in his ribs hard enough to knock the air out.

“Tara. Sofia. Jessie. Now!” She snarled.

He tried to speak. She put the hooked end of the bar under his chin and shoved his head back against the floor.

“You do not talk. You point.”

The metal was cold. His ribs hurt. For a stupid half second he actually thought about the dark and how fast she had crossed the room and how the lights had died right before the door came off.

Then he remembered he did not have to win this with his hands.

Time stopped.

Maya froze over him with the crowbar still under her chin, boot still planted, teeth still bared. Dust hung in the streetlight. He lay there a moment, breathing, then shoved the bar aside and slid out from under her.

“There it is,” he said. “Forgot for a second.”

He took the crowbar out of her hand and set it on a crate. Walked a circle around her. The tank top was soaked through. He hooked a finger in the neckline and pulled it down until both breasts sat over the fabric, heavy and tight from the fight. He squeezed one, then the other, then laughed under his breath and left them like that.

He put her on her knees in the strip of window light, facing the pile on the floor, unzipped, and used her mouth because it was already open from the snarl. One hand in her curls. No hurry. When he finished he wiped her lip with his thumb and tipped her chin toward Tara and Sofia and Jessie.

Then he let time run just long enough for her eyes to find them.

The sound she made was not a word. She lunged.

He stopped her mid-lunge and left her there, stretched out, fingers short of Tara’s shoulder, tits still out of the tank top, spit still on her mouth. She could have lived the rest of her life not part of his collection. He gave her the choice to stay behind. This is her own fault. He placed his thumb on her forehead. She is too persistent to let go.

He unfroze time and was still standing over her, still smiling at the pose, when a brick hit him.

It came from the broken doorway and caught him clean in the left shoulder. The joint went numb. He staggered sideways into a crate and the whole stack rattled.

Elena Reyes came through the frame right behind it, bat in one hand, another brick already in the other. Power dead. Door gone. Sister on the floor as bait whether she meant to be or not. His eyes had been on Maya. That was the whole point.

The second brick left her hand and smashed the wall beside his head on purpose. Plaster jumped. She wanted him to see it miss.

“Next one’s for your head.”

She did not wait. She closed the distance fast, bat already coming up. Joseph’s left arm ached. He got one foot under himself and tried to stop time, but she kicked the crate into his knees and dropped him again.

“You do not mess with my sister. You do not mess with my niece. You do not mess with my family.” The bat rose. “Don’t think that little skip works on me. I’ll break you before you even—”

All that talking cemented her fate. She gave him the moment to freeze time. Then he easily put his thumb between her eyes.

The sentence died there.

Elena Reyes went still the way the others were still. Permanent. Shoulders still squared. Mouth still open on the last word. The brick dust from the wall hung in the streetlight beside her.

Joseph sat on the floor for a few seconds, left arm throbbing, and laughed once under his breath.

“Okay. That one almost counted.”

He stood, rolled the aching shoulder, and dragged both sisters into the window light. He stripped Elena the rest of the way, jacket and shirt and everything else, and pulled Maya’s tank off her arms so they matched. Then he stood them side by side at attention. Shoulders back. Chests out. Arms straight at their sides. He worked Maya’s snarl into a smile first, then Elena’s half-finished threat into the same thing. Two wide, empty grins in the dark. Hip to hip. Big sis and little sis, standing pretty.

“Better.”

He used Maya’s mouth again first, because the smile made it easy, then turned Elena, bent her at the waist, and took her from behind with one hand on that solid hip and the other in her short hair. The warehouse stayed dark the clapping was loud. The pile on the floor stayed stacked. The broken door hung open on one hinge.

When he finished, he put Elena back at attention next to Maya, both still smiling after being used.

They made his night much more memorable. He will deal with the problems in the morning.