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Maybe she was in denial. I could remedy that.
“Seth isn’t your real father.” I didn’t stay long enough to see her reaction. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I should have left hours ago. Jason had been in a trunk all night.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Does life ever get tired of fucking people over? It seemed to keep fucking me raw.
I wasn’t sure how much of what Pierce said was true or false. There wasn’t anyone around to confirm anything. Part of me wondered why he would lie, but I could ask the same question as to why he wouldn’t.
I stared up at the ceiling, thinking about the shit show that was my life.
I couldn’t work out what Seth’s motive would be for stepping up and claiming a kid that wasn’t his? I wasn’t any closer to figuring this shit out than I was when he’d first brought me here.
My mind was worn down. I was exhausted and my stupid heart was determined to want the man holding me emotionally and physically captive, no matter the circumstances. Plopping down onto the large L-shaped sectional, I looked down at the papers on his coffee table.
He can’t be serious.
It was a venue packet. Little sticky notes about cake flavor and a ton of other shit I didn’t care about were attached to it. The man was driving me up the wall.
I missed my sister. Despite what Pierce said. Blood related or not, Abbi was my family. I didn’t care if she was screwing his brother.
The same thing could be said about me screwing him, but this arrangement was only supposed to be for a year, so what happened when it was up? Would he actually kill me?
Was someone crying?
Rolling onto my stomach, I looked over at the digital clock. It was almost midnight. That seemed to be the witching hour in this house.
When a groan floated down the hall, I knew someone was definitely crying. It sounded like a grown man. Tossing the covers off, I hopped out of bed and padded towards the bedroom door.
I wasn’t in anything but pink fuzzy sleep shorts and a tank top; it wasn’t exactly proper attire to wear when going to investigate.
Looking out into the dark hall, I could hear voices from below. Pierce’s stood out to me right away, but the other two I couldn’t place. Trying to be as quiet as possible, I crept from the room and made my way down the hall. There wasn’t a need to go downstairs; all I had to do was peer through the banister bars, something I’d been doing a fuck-ton of lately.
I cautiously leaned forward, taking in the scene below. I’d seen some messed up things growing up around Seth, but I’d never seen someone look as broken as Jason did. He was stripped down to his boxers.
I’m sure at one time they were white, but he’d clearly defecated on himself.
His once flawless skin was covered in dark bruises, lacerations, and what may have been a bullet graze.
His face was almost unrecognizable. Pierce stood with Enrique and two men I didn’t know. They all seemed relaxed, talking quietly and not paying Jason any attention. My heart went out to him; I knew this was somewhat my fault, but I couldn’t say I was sorry. I didn’t trust Pierce not to hurt me or my sister. I would lead a thousand men to their deaths if it meant keeping both of us alive.
“It’s downstairs. I’m sure he’ll be okay for fifteen minutes,” Pierce responded to something one of the men had said.
When his eyes abruptly flashed to mine, I flinched back around the corner and pressed myself to the wall, clutching a hand over my racing heart. Had he seen me?
I breathed a small sigh of relief when I heard them eventually exit the living room.
The basement door opened and closed, and then the house was silent—aside from an occasional groan from Jason.
Slowly crawling forward again, I looked back down to the open living room. Pierce had left him like this for a purpose. That became evident the second I spotted a conveniently placed butcher’s knife resting on the coffee table, the flashing light indicating that the front door lock wasn’t engaged.
He’d said fifteen minutes, and while I could run downstairs, cut Jason’s restraints, wake his ass up, and haul him out the door, one question remained.
Where would we go?
Unless there was a running car waiting for us, we’d have to wander around in the dark woods.
“Damn it,” I seethed before making my decision.
I couldn’t just sit on my ass and wait to see what happened next. I had to at least try and help him.
Moving at a snail’s pace, I started to descend the stairs, pausing at the bottom to listen for any sound. Not hearing anything, I jogged to Jason and knelt. He smelled awful, like he’d been dropped in a bucket of raw sewage and then left out to dry.
