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Maybe it’s that I’m being paranoid. I don’t know. I can’t seem to put my finger on—a feeling of something about to happen. Good or bad, it’s coming our way. I just wish I knew which.
* * *
Arwen
Waking up to feeling warmer than I have in I don’t know how long—I groan and try to move, but realize I’m not alone. My heart races in my chest as I pry my eyes open and glance down to see an arm wrapped around my waist. I also know right away someone’s changed my clothes, and I’m not wearing any pants.
What in the world? What happened to me?
Memories of running away and escaping come rushing in.
Oh. No. No. No. Please tell me Ciro didn’t catch me again, and forced me to be in his room. It’s part of my uncle’s sick sense of humor. He puts me in his men’s rooms where they could have their way with me if I make him mad. Stefano’s done that a handful of times since I’d turned eighteen.
But something about this doesn’t feel like any of that. No, it’s different. The arm holding me tightly has tattoos on the forearm.
How did I get here? Whose bed am I in?
Freaking out, I try to pry the arm from my body, but it doesn’t budge. When the hand connected to the arm slides up my side, I scream in panic.
The arm is suddenly gone, and I scamper away from the mystery man—falling to the floor.
“Oh shit,” the man says, drawing my attention to him. I lift my head to find him climbing out of bed, dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a black T-shirt. Crab-walking, I back away from him. “It’s okay, Arwen. I’m not going to hurt you.”
Something about his voice soothes me. He holds his hands up in front of him as he steps forward. “I promise you’re okay here.”
Soon as those words leave his lips, the door on the other side of the room crashes open, causing me to scream once again in terror.
“What the hell?” the mystery man yells, turning to face the intruders. Glancing around him, I notice it’s three women, all of them holding guns raised.
“We heard her scream,” the one with dark hair and a small bump says as she lowers the gun.
“She just woke up. Do y’all mind getting out so I can calm her down.” Yes, please. The fierce looks of these three women are scaring me. I swear the one with wavy caramel-brown hair with blondish highlights looks familiar, but I can’t figure out how I would know her.
“We’ll be in the kitchen getting breakfast ready,” the last woman says before leaving the bedroom.
Soon as all three girls are out of the room, the mystery man spins back to face me. With a tender smile, he squats down in front of me. “I’m Cedric Gheata.”
At the mention of his last name, my eyes widen, and I start to back further away from him, whimpering, “Please don’t hurt me.”
Cedric’s eyes darken slightly before he conceals his anger. “I’m not gonna hurt you,cuore mio. I could never hurt you.”
The way his eyes soften makes me want to believe him.
“I might be a Gheata, but I’m nothing like my half-siblings. I can promise you that,” Cedric grumbles, holding my gaze.
Seeing the truth in his eyes, I nod. “Where am I?”
“We’re at my place. It’s the Fort.”
“The Fort?” That’s a weird name for a house. But then again, I call my father’s home a prison.
“Yeah, the Fort. Finley, Mara-Lee, and I dubbed our home its name when we bought it, because it looks like one.” He grins, standing back to his feet, and holding a hand out to me. “Let’s get you off the floor.”
I take his hand and allow him to pull me up. Once on my feet, I lean into him without meaning to. My legs feel weak and heavy for some reason.
“You okay,cuore mio?” he asks, holding on to me.
“I’m fine, just sore,” I murmur quietly.
