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He turns toward me, the fingers of one hand still gripping mine as his other hand comes up to cradle the back of my neck. The tenderness in his eyes is a stark contrast to the hard lines of his face. “I told you, Rose. You have us now. And we protect what’s ours.”
He kisses me softly, then leads me toward the same door the other men vanished through. The garage is down a car, and Theo leads me toward one I’ve never been in before. It’s sleek and black, and when he starts the engine, it purrs smoothly.
We drive in silence, although he keeps a firm grip on my hand the entire way. The only time he released it was to let me get in the car, and I missed it for that short moment we were separated.
I don’t ask again where we’re going, or why we’re going there.
Part of me already knows.
It takes us forty-five minutes to reach our destination, and Theo glances at me as he pulls up outside a small house. Just like their other safe house, it seems to be in a remote part of Halston, far off the beaten path. The clock on the dashboard reads 11:34 p.m., and the glowing numbers fade out when he tugs the key from the ignition.
The late fall air is cool on my skin as we step out of the car and head toward the dark house. Theo wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.
The inside of the house is eerily similar to the safe house they brought me to after rescuing me from Carson and Dominic. It’s clear it hasn’t been occupied in some time. There’s a staleness to the air, a sense of stillness that permeates the space.
“They’ll be here soon.” Theo flips the light on and checks that all the curtains are closed before settling on the worn couch and tugging me onto his lap.
I go willingly, straddling his hips as he rests his hands on the small of my back. He regards me seriously, the blue-green of his irises shifting like an agitated sea. “You know where Marcus and Ry went, don’t you?”
The words stick in my throat, and I have to work to get them out. “To get Jordan.”
He nods, watching me with a careful gaze. “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want. I can bring you into the bedroom while they get him downstairs. He never even has to know you’re here.”
My stomach feels like someone grabbed it by both ends and twisted it like a rag, and my hand tightens reflexively on Theo’s shoulder. But I shake my head. “No. I want to see.”
Maybe want is the wrong word.
If Jordan comes into this house, I need to see him. In the few seconds that felt like an eternity when I ran into him at Saraven, I couldn’t form a single coherent thought. The whole encounter rushed by like a dream—like a nightmare.
But now I have a chance to truly face him.
And as terrifying as it is, I have to take it.
Theo’s grip on me tightens a little, pulling me closer on his lap. “You’re the strongest fucking woman I know, Rose. I wish my mom was more like you.”
I don’t quite know what to say to that. I know watching his mother slowly fall under the control of his uncle is torture for Theo, and that he’s doing everything he can to stop it. He seems to care for her—more than Marcus and Ryland, who both have distant relationships with their parents—but I can’t help but hate her a little for signing her son up to play in Luca D’Addario’s fucked up game.
If it means he wouldn’t have gotten roped into all of this, then fuck, I wish she was stronger too.
Before I have to come up with a response to Theo’s words, the door to the safe house bangs open. Marcus and Ryland step inside, holding Jordan McCabe between them. He sags a bit in their grip, and blood drips from his left nostril. His hands are bound roughly behind his back with duct tape, and his feet drag across the floor a little as they haul him inside, kicking the door shut behind them.
My heart kicks against my ribs as I scramble off Theo’s lap, and the blond man stands a second after I do, positioning his body close to mine protectively. It’s not the threat of violence he’s trying to protect me from this time though. There’s nothing Jordan can do to me right now. Instead, I get the feeling Theo’s trying to make sure I really can handle this, his body tensed and ready to come between me and my ex-foster father if he sees any sign that I’m about to lose it.
I watch, unable to look away, as Marcus and Ryland drag Jordan deeper into the house. They open a door halfway down the hall that leads to the back, and half carry, half shove him down a flight of stairs.
My pulse is an angry ache in my chest as Theo and I follow after them, and we arrive in the basement just as Marcus secures Jordan to a chair. I have another vivid flashback of the day I was kidnapped by Carson and Dominic, of waking up taped to a chair as the drugs slowly faded from my system.
Does Jordan feel the same rising terror I felt then?
Maybe it’s sick of me to hope he does, but I do.
When the older man is secured to the chair, Marcus kicks one of the legs, shoving the wooden chair back a foot and making it rock precariously. Jordan grunts, his dazed eyes rolling wildly. There’s a strip of duct tape over his mouth, and the blood that’s dripping from his nose coats the shiny silver of the tape.
“Look at me, you son of a bitch.”
Marcus’s voice is cool, almost unrecognizable. When Jordan is too slow to respond, Marcus grabs his chin and yanks his head up, forcing him to look at the man towering above him. Jordan grunts, raising his voice as he shouts profanities against the barrier of the tape covering his lips.
Balling his hand up, Marcus hits him with a broad punch to his temple that makes Jordan’s head whip to the side. The muffled curses cut off as the man groans.
