I’m the only man allowed to touch my wife like that.
I chance a quick glance at the screen and grimace.
Harper is lying on a bed, the doctor touching her, and God help me, I want to cut his balls off.
I will castrate the bastard who lays a finger on my wife.
“Get us good footage, and we’ll be in within minutes. We just need to know where you’re both being held and how many we’re up against.”
I pause, staring at the mansion in front of us. There’s no gate, it’s easily accessible, but quite remote. Mountains surround us as we’re at the bottom of a valley.
I can’t just stare at the damn compound and not do something. Restlessness pricks under my skin. Waiting is a ticking time bomb, and Harper might not be alive if I waste another second.
“This is a terrible plan. You’re just going to give Livia what she wants?” Ashton asks.
“Actually, I am.” I remove the rifle, shoving it into his hands. “See you on the other side.”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Rhys grinds his teeth and chases after me, but I’m already out of earshot.
“I’m going to save my wife and child!” I shout back at him.
While they bicker about the best way into the mansion, I’m doing exactly what no one would expect: walking up to the front door.
Why?
Because I can’t protect Harper if I’m not with her.
“Fucking Luca,” Rhys curses, and I’m sure they’ll come up with a plan to get both of us out. If not, it’ll be up to me to save us both. But at least I’ll have given them eyes on the inside.
As I approach the property, I survey the windows, the balcony, and roof. There are no sharpshooters, no one aiming a gun at me. There are, however, cameras at every juncture, and I feel watchful eyes on me as I walk up to the front door and let myself inside.
Time to fuck things up for the DeLucas.
Sixteen
Harper
The examination by that atrocious doctor makes me shudder.
Thankfully, it’s over, and the moment he stalks out of the room, Livia returns.
“Just great,” I mutter. If it’s not one hell, it’s another.
She tosses me a pair of gray, scratchy sweats and a matching shirt. It feels like prison clothes.
“Put these on.”
I do as she commands, only because I’m naked and I don’t want to be paraded around and humiliated.
“Congratulations are in order,” Livia says, smirking as she watches me dress.
The moment my clothes are donned, she grabs my arm and escorts me through the halls.
I only give her a look of confusion because I don’t know what she’s congratulating me on. I’m not actually pregnant.
I can’t be.
I mean, I don’t think it’s possible—but I haven’t had my friend come to visit yet this month.
