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Lia's cries intensified, and Kaylie tried to reassure her, but her nausea threatened to overtake any words she attempted. Paul’s features softened abruptly as he attempted a semblance of fatherly concern, patting Lia’s soft curls with the same hand he’d just used to knock Kaylie into next week. But his attempts to soothe Lia only made her flinch away and cry louder. As Lia's tears flowed, Paul's facade crumbled.
"Stop crying!" he bellowed, his rage unleashed on the innocent child caught in the crossfire.
Lia cried harder at the outburst. In the shadows of the cramped room, Kaylie's gaze hardened. The decision she’d made to escape all those years ago was validated right before her eyes. Paul's true nature, the monster she had feared, revealed itself with each harsh word inflicted on her precious daughter. And if he laid a hand on Lia, Kaylie would rip him limb from limb and sleep soundly every night after.
Amidst the chaos, the door creaked open, allowing a sliver of harsh sunlight to spill into the room. Kaylie's eyes widened as Paul's men ushered in a man whose presence sent a shiver down her spine. His aura, an unsettling blend of affluence and detachment, hung in the air around him. The immaculate lines of his tailored suit and the effortless poise with which he carried himself spoke of privilege and power. Despite the grim surroundings, the man seemed unfazed, his eyes cold and calculating.
Kaylie, still tied up against the headboard with Lia clutching her, couldn't quite place the man's significance, but a visceral instinct warned her that his presence was a very bad omen.
Paul, seemingly eager to impress, quickly smoothed his suit and straightened his posture as the man came deeper into the room. Paul's attempts at composure were almost comically desperate, a stark contrast to this new man’s detached demeanor. The stranger's eyes, an icy shade that seemed to pierce through the shadows, scanned the room with a dispassionate gaze.
"Mr. Lowell," Paul declared, a strained eagerness in his voice. "So sorry about the noise.” He glared at Lia, and Kaylie curled her legs around her daughter possessively. “Just a little family matter to settle."
Lowell's gaze lingered on the sobbing Lia, who clung to Kaylie like a lifeline. His response, when it came, was devoid of warmth or empathy. "I hope this doesn't interfere with our arrangement. I don't appreciate surprises."
Paul, eager to maintain his standing with the enigmatic figure before him, gestured toward Kaylie and Lia. "Nothing to worry about, Shane. You’ll still have exactly what you need for…” He seemed to search for a word before continuing. “Leverage on the team from Black Tower. And I’ll have my daughter,” he added with a greasy smile that made Kaylie clench her jaw.
Kaylie winced against the throbbing in her skull as she tried to follow the confusing conversation. Black Tower? How did this involve them?
Kaylie observed the duo with a mix of fear and curiosity. Was Anthony safe? The Black Tower folks had talked about Shane Lowell in hushed tones, a name associated with power and peril. Her mind raced, grappling with the uncertainty of Anthony's fate.
If only she had made different choices, if only she had found a way to escape the clutches of the Moreno family without putting Anthony in the crosshairs.
As Shane Lowell's gaze lingered on Lia, the vulnerability of her daughter's predicament amplified Kaylie's sense of helplessness. They were caught in the crossfire. Lia clung to Kaylie, her tear-streaked face buried in her shoulder. She again wished her hands were free so she could hold her daughter.
Kaylie's resolve hardened. She would find a way to protect Lia. As the room vibrated with tension and uncertainty, Kaylie's internal prayers became a desperate plea for redemption, a longing for a future free from the fear that had woven its tendrils into the fabric of her existence.
She was so very tired of being afraid.
“My patience grows thin, Mr. Moreno.” Lowell picked at a nonexistent piece of lint on his sleeve. “We reached out to you because we shared mutual goals. But I’m beginning to think this partnership will not be a long-term arrangement.”
Paul paled, and Kaylie knew that his hopes of climbing the ranks were crumbling. “I assure you, Mr. Lowell, my organization maintains the utmost professionalism.”
If her head hadn’t still been ringing from the blow she’d received, she might have snorted. In her experience, Paul’s version of professionalism included unrestrained partying and drugs from everyone in the organization, with bouts of growth spurred on by vicious tempers, ruthless blackmail, and a fragile network of criminal endeavors that Paul orchestrated with a sense of twisted pride.
Kaylie, despite the throbbing pain in her head, couldn't help but see through the veneer of Paul's desperate reassurances. He stumbled over his words, attempting to salvage his image in the eyes of the mysterious figure before him.
Shane Lowell snapped his fingers. “We’re taking them both. I’ll be in touch.”
Kaylie’s mouth fell open, no doubt a mirror expression of the shock that covered Paul’s face before he schooled his expression. The last thing she wanted to do was go with Shane Lowell and be used as leverage against Anthony, nothing more than a pawn in whatever dangerous game was playing out between him and Black Tower. But there was also a tiny shimmer of amusement at someone double-crossing the monster from all her nightmares.
No one deserved it more than Paul.
“That was not the deal, Lowell,” Paul protested, a hint of desperation creeping into his voice. “Lia is my daughter. I told you, her mother will be enough to convince Mr. Olson and Black Tower to do whatever you need.”
Shane tugged on his sleeves and straightened his posture. “Deals change, Mr. Moreno. Perhaps you haven’t been in the business long enough to recognize and anticipate that fact.”
The dig was obviously directed at Paul’s relative youth. Kaylie knew he was approaching thirty-five. He’d seemed so experienced and confident when she was younger, but now she was seeing that cool mask slip away in the face of someone with more power, more experience, and even more ruthlessness than him. It wasn’t just his age, though Shane appeared to be closer to his fifties, the gray around his temples giving him away, despite his smooth skin.
It was the fact that Shane Lowell exuded evil.
Paul was evil in his own right, surely. His temper and disregard for human life terrified her. But Lowell? He was emotionless and calculating, without a hint of humanity showing behind his steely eyes.
Paul, in a rare display of uncertainty, glanced from Lowell to Kaylie. The veneer of control that Paul had meticulously crafted over the years crumbled in the face of a force far more formidable.
As Shane Lowell's gaze bore into her, Kaylie couldn't shake the feeling that she had unwittingly stepped into an evil far worse than she’d experienced before. It wasn't just Paul's age that paled in comparison; it was the undeniable absence of empathy that seemed to radiate from Lowell. The realization hit her like a wave. She was being traded from one devil to another.
With a dismissive wave, Shane signaled to his men, and they advanced toward Kaylie and Lia. Panic seized her, and she tugged at the restraints, desperate to hold Lia, determined to shield her from the encroaching darkness.
