But I’m too dehydrated.
They haven’t given us food or water since they dragged me down here, and I’m starting to worry about the baby.
Surely all this stress, both physical and emotional, isn’t good for it.
But telling them I’m pregnant is a mistake as well. I don’t know how I know that, because in most situations it would likely save me.
Salvatore will lose it if he finds out there’s a Lombardi bastard on the way, and on the off chance they’re only using me to leverage information from Dad, I don’t want to add any reasons for them to hurt me.
I’d like to think that they would be happy for Ronan and me, especially because we’ve basically already built a life together, but I grew up in this family. Once you’re seen as a traitor, there’s no going back.
So I stay quiet. I swallow down the nausea I can’t place. I force my breathing to calm each time it spikes. And I reassure both myself and the little bean growing inside me as often as I can, even though giving us false hope is a bad idea.
But I guess there are no good ideas when you’re tied to a chair watching your father be tortured to death.
Footsteps in the hallway are the only warning we get that someone is coming.
I hold my breath as the door opens, blocking my view of them until they step over the threshold and my body runs cold.
Ralph.
He glances over his shoulder, making sure no one followed him down here, before closing the door and turning his attention to Mom.
“Now it’s just us Iris,” he murmurs, unbuckling his pants as he steps toward her. “I had to wait for them to all fall asleep. But it will be worth it.”
So it’s nighttime.
That makes sense. It’s been longer between visits than at any other point since we’ve been down here. But that also means there’s no one coming to check on us until morning, whenever that may be.
Dad stirs, blood dripping down his temple and onto the concrete beneath him. They’ve been taking things slower than I would expect, but they’re clearly not in a hurry to end this.
As soon as he realizes what’s happening, his body is alert. “Get the fuck away from her!” he shouts.
Ralph’s cruel laugh bounces off the walls, sending a shiver through my body. “You’re not in a position to stop me, Weaver.”
“What do you think Damon’s going to do when he finds out you disobeyed a direct order?” Dad snaps.
“I don’t care what that little shit thinks. He’s not the boss yet, and if I have it my way, he never will be.”
It’s no secret that there are members of the family that don’t want Damon to take his throne, but aside from Ronan, there are no other options. There are only two people that I know of that Salvatore would have entertained other than his sons, and one istied to a chair across from me, and the other is the reason for our captivity.
Ralph has his back to me, which is both a blessing and a curse. Because I don’t have to watch as he strokes himself, but I do have a front-row seat for my mother’s torment, and each second it goes on makes my chest tighter with panic.
This can’t be happening.
“He will lead this family, Ralph. The sooner you get on board, the easier the transition will be for you,” Dad reasons. Hearing him defend Damon after hours of torture is unexpected, but he’s trying to protect Mom and me. He’s always done everything in his power to keep us safe. To keep us away from the worst parts of his business.
Mom presses her eyes closed, only for Ralph to strike her a moment later, tearing a scream from her throat.
“Eyes open, bitch,” he snaps as another slap lands across her cheek. “I want you to see everything I do to you.”
Bile climbs the back of my throat, and the tears I thought had dried up fall against my cheeks.
So much for keeping myself calm for the baby.
Meeting Dad’s gaze across the room, he looks shattered. Broken. And that makes everything hurt that much more.
Because the man that raised me, the one that kissed my skinned knee better when I fell off my bike and read Ronan the riot act when we started dating, has never looked quite so hopeless.
