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And then the day comes. The end of my life all over again.
A small part of me wonders how many times I’ll be forced to endure this repeated emotional torture.
Ciaran’s silent as he comes into the suite and stares at me with that same tormented gaze. Not that he needs to say anything. I’ve always known this was coming; it was only a question of when.
“It’s time to go,” he bites out without any niceties. It’s probably better that way. I need to harden my stupid heart, which has become unadvisedly attached to this man. At least it's Ciaran and not Callum leading me to my doom.
“Um… may I at least have some proper clothing to wear?” I ask tentatively, not at all sure what his response might be.
He’s been doing a great job of blanking me out, so when Ciaran does eventually look my way and sees I’m still in my customary outfit of t-shirt and boxers, both of which belong to him, he appears disconcerted.
It lasts but a second before he stalks to the door, speaking quietly to whoever’s waiting on the other side, before throwing me the wedding underwear I’d arrived here in.
My hands shake as I retrieve it from where it falls at my feet. The last thing I want to do is put it on, but I hold my head high and take it into the bathroom to change. At an impatient rap on the door a couple of minutes later, I open it to have several garments thrust at me.
Taking the leggings and shirt, I pull them on, then take the time to brush my long, thick hair.
I might be heading to my doom like I’m walking the plank, but I’ll damn well do it on my own terms; proud and defiant until the end.
And I’m pretty sure this will be the end.
I’m familiar enough with Vito Rossi to know he’ll take out his anger at my abduction, and his subsequent wedding embarrassment on me.
I try not to think about it. If I do…
Yeah, best not to go there.
There’s a sense of Deja vu as Ciaran bundles me into the same van that brought me here, with Liam driving and he and his twin in the back, just like before.
Like then, it surprises me they’re handling this themselves and not leaving it to their soldiers to make the exchange.
But then this is their sister. I guess they were never going to leave her retrieval to anyone else, although I am surprised there aren’t more men backing them up.
Or maybe there are, and I just can’t see them.
The drive is interminable. The silence weaves malevolent ribbons into the dead air that surrounds us, pulling the tension taut.
That’s what it feels like, anyway. Perhaps it’s just me.
Callum looks like he’s pleased to be rid of me, and Ciaran…
Well, Ciaran is silent. He doesn’t so much as look my way, and my heart breaks a little more with every mile that passes.
Still, it won’t matter soon. Not his distance nor my heartache. I don’t expect to see the dawn of another day.
That acceptance brings me a surprising amount of calm. It’s almost cathartic.
Finally, we arrive at a disused lot way out in the countryside. I almost feel like laughing at the ridiculousness of it. Both parties driving hours outside the city just for everyone to drive back again. I feel it bubble up inside me, wanting to be set free… but in retrospect, it’s probably hysteria.
I don’t want to consider the reality of returning to the Viper and the Cosa Nostra compound. Has it really only been three short weeks since Ciaran and Callum emancipated me from that prison?
I’ve heard people say that a prison is a prison, no matter how pretty the setting, but that’s not true. I have absolute proof of experience in that matter. If I had a choice, I’d stay locked in Ciaran’s suite forever.
But there is no choice.
A glance out of the rear tinted windows shows dozens of the Viper’s men surrounding the perimeter. Overkill much?
We’re outrageously outnumbered, and I feel a frisson of fear on Ciaran’s behalf. Vito could effectively cut the head off the Irish mob in the next few minutes if he so chose. There’s no way Ciaran, Callum and Liam can escape the numbers and the firepower that’s here.
