Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 886: "Bitch! You Slut!" – Diaz’s Final Scream

"It’s necessary," I corrected. "Diaz hates me already. Let him rot knowing I saved his worthless life. Let him testify and watch his whole world burn while he sits in a cell, wondering how the devil he once called brother ended up owning his freedom."

Another pause.

"Ten minutes," she said finally. "We’ll come loud. No subtlety. You want Gabriela to remember every second."

"Good. And Jayden?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure Sarah’s not in the room when you list the murder. She doesn’t need to hear it again. Not like this."

"Understood."

The line went dead.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket and exhaled slowly. The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Somewhere down the hall, a nurse’s cart rattled. Ordinary hospital sounds. Ordinary day.

Nothing ordinary about what was coming.

I waited exactly nine minutes and forty seconds before I heard the heavy footsteps—boots on linoleum, multiple sets.

Jayden led the way, flanked by four uniformed officers and two plainclothes detectives. They moved with purpose, no chatter, faces set in grim lines. One carried a thick file folder stamped with the department seal.

They didn’t knock.

The door banged open.

Gabriela jumped, hand flying to her throat. Diaz’s eyes snapped wide—red-rimmed fury instantly replaced by something colder: calculation, fear.

Jayden stepped inside first, badge already out.

"Former Officer Diaz," she said, voice ringing clear and hard. "You are under arrest for corruption, bribery, conspiracy to commit murder, evidence tampering, obstruction of justice, and the premeditated murder of Detective Marcus Hale—Sarah Hale’s father. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

Gabriela staggered back, colliding with the bed rail.

"No," she whispered. "No—no—this isn’t right. My son—he wouldn’t—"

Jayden didn’t pause. She opened the file and began reading aloud—dates, amounts, names, wire transfers, burner-phone logs, a grainy still from a security cam showing Diaz handing an envelope to one of Sergio’s men.

Then the worst: the night Marcus Gomez was found with two bullets in the back of the head, execution-style. Witness testimony placing Diaz at the scene. Ballistics match. Motive: Gomez had been closing in on the network.

Gabriela’s knees buckled. She grabbed the bed for support, tears streaming silently now.

Diaz didn’t speak. He couldn’t. But his thoughts screamed through my mind like static: [They’ve got me. They’ve fucking got me. That bastard Jack—he set this up. He’s going to watch me burn.]

Jayden nodded to the uniforms.

One stepped forward with cuffs.

Gabriela lunged—instinct, not thought—placing herself between them and the bed.

"You can’t take him! He’s hurt—he’s barely awake—please—"

That was my cue.

I stepped through the doorway—calm, composed, the same man who’d just held her while she cried.

"Officer Jayden," I said quietly, voice carrying just enough authority to halt everything. "Hold on."

All eyes turned to me.

Gabriela’s face crumpled with desperate hope.

"Jack..."

I moved to her side, arm sliding protectively around her shoulders.

"I know what the evidence says," I told the room, loud enough for everyone.

"But I also know Diaz. He’s family. And if there’s even a chance he can make this right..." I looked at Jayden.

Jayden’s expression didn’t change, but she played her part perfectly—crossing her arms, considering. "There’s a deal on the table. Full immunity on all charges in exchange for complete, truthful testimony against every name in that file—Sergio, Javier, the corrupt brass, everyone. Witness protection. He walks away from prison. But only if he cooperates. Fully."

Jayden’s arms stayed crossed, her face a mask of professional detachment, but her eyes flicked to me for the briefest second—acknowledgment that the script had just veered exactly as planned.

Gabriela’s voice cracked like thin ice. "Diaz... is it true? Did you do those things?" She took a trembling step toward the bed, hands outstretched as though she could still reach the boy she’d raised.

"Is this how your father and I taught you? Tell me it’s not true. Please... tell me it’s not true."

Diaz’s mouth worked—lips parting, throat straining—but no sound came. His eyes bulged with fury, veins standing out on his neck. Inside my mind, his thoughts roared like a trapped animal:

[This bitch—what right does she have to call herself Mom when she’s spreading for my enemy? I heard every moan, every filthy scream. I’ll kill her. I’ll kill them both. Why the fuck can’t I speak—]

I released the subtle hold I’d placed on his vocal cords. Just enough. Just now.

The words exploded out of him—raw, venomous, spit flying.

"Bitch! You slut!"

The room froze.

Gabriela recoiled as though slapped. Her hand flew to her mouth; tears spilled instantly, silent and heavy. She was happy to hear that her son can speak, but he just called her a slut. " Son.. You can speak now. That’s great."

Jayden’s posture stiffened—hand drifting toward her holster out of pure reflex—but she didn’t draw. She simply watched, letting the moment burn.

Diaz wasn’t done. His voice cracked higher, ragged with rage and humiliation.

"Yeah, I can speak now—and I heard every loud fucking moan, you whore! You’re not qualified to be a mother. You let him—him—fuck you like some cheap—"

"Brother Diaz!" I cut in, voice sharp but laced with feigned anguish.

I stepped forward, pulling Gabriela into my arms before she could collapse. She folded against my chest instantly, face buried in my shirt, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "It’s not Aunt’s fault. It’s mine. All mine. Please... don’t blame her."

I held her tighter—one arm locked around her waist, the other cradling the back of her head—while I lifted my gaze to meet Diaz’s over the top of her dark hair.

My eyes changed.

Not dramatically. No glow, no theatrics. Just a subtle shift—pupils narrowing to slits for a heartbeat, the faintest crimson flicker at the edges, gone so fast most people would dismiss it as a trick of the light.

Diaz saw it.

His whole body jerked once—like a man touched by a live wire. The rage in his stare fractured into something colder, more primal: recognition. Fear. The dawning certainty that whatever power he thought he still had was nothing next to what stood between him and the woman he wanted to strangle.

His thoughts went quiet. Not silent—quiet. The frantic screaming in his head reduced to a low, defeated hiss.

I can’t win. Not against this. Not against him.

He swallowed once—audible in the sudden stillness.

Then he turned his head toward Jayden, voice hoarse but steady.

"Officer Jayden..." He licked cracked lips. "I can testify. I will testify. Everything. Sergio. Javier. The brass. The hits. All of it. Just... get me the deal."

Jayden didn’t smile. Didn’t gloat. She simply nodded once—crisp, final.

"Smart choice." She glanced at the uniforms. "He’s cooperating. We’ll transport him to a secure facility for a formal statement and protection arrangement."

Gabriela didn’t look up. She couldn’t. Her fingers twisted in my shirt, knuckles white, face still hidden against me. Fresh tears soaked through the fabric.

I stroked her hair—slow, soothing circles—while murmuring just loud enough for her to hear.

"I’ve got you. I promised I wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. And I won’t."

She gave one small, shattered nod against my chest.