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Everything feels a bit strange, though—sort of slow and foggy, which probably has everything to do with the severe concussion. Reaching up to my head, I can feel dried blood crusted around my hair, which meant the fucker split my skull, and it hurts trying to remember exactly what happened.
But it does come back, in little fits and bursts.
The long night with my boys, the soft morning, and then the asshole who crept up on me.
I didn’t get a look at his face, but I remember his voice. Dread had stolen over me just nanoseconds before I was knocked out, but the blow to my head didn’t take the memory of who it was.
“Marco,” I groan quietly into the floor beneath me.
Unlike the misfits, Marco didn’t have the decency to offer me a bed. He threw me on the floor like a lump of dirty laundry. I attempt to push myself up into a sitting position, and the world spins, but I manage it. The room is dark but not pitch-black, and I can see it’s almost completely empty.
The wall I’m leaning against is cold brick, and it feels nice on the ache in my head. When Marco shows his face, I’m going to kick him in the fucking dick, so I’m hoping he takes his time and lets me regain my bearings. There’s no chance in hell the boys don’t know I’m gone, and there’s no chance in hell Phoenix didn’t have that place wired to the nines, so it won’t be long before they track me.
I just hope I can get a few blows in before they get here.
Taking a deep breath, I sit and feel my heart racing, hoping the dizziness will start to pass. When the boys took me, the drugs made me feel uncomfortable and heavy but not like this. I press my hand to my stomach and feel a sudden pulse of fear because it’s not just me I have to protect now.
It’s my child.
Our child.
It’s the first time I’ve felt any sort of real connection to this baby, and panic starts to rise in me because I don’t want anything to happen. Ican’tlet anything happen. But freaking out isn’t going to make anything better, so I count my breaths, and slowly, the world begins to settle.
I don’t know how long I’m sitting, but it’s right around the time I’m contemplating pissing in the corner of the room that Ihear a door open. The sound pierces through the room, making my head ache, but I ignore it.
I brace myself and stand, and after a second, low light floods the room and Marco walks in. He’s wearing that same, shit-eating, smug little grin he always used to wear whenever he and Leo showed up to “train” me. I knew he got off on it, but it was something that was easy to ignore because he was always such a little nobody.
“You look like shit, Alice.”
I roll my eyes and wince at how badly that hurts. “Thanks. I didn’t have time to get ready, what with you knocking me out and dragging me to your weird dungeon.”
He takes another step toward me, and I tense up. He looks the same as he always did, but there’s something different about him. A new arrogance that he never wore before, and he swaggers like he’s drunk on power.
“You might want to watch your mouth. You’re not daddy’s little princess anymore.”
I laugh. “You think I ever was? Anyway, you fill the role nicely.”
He closes the distance between us without giving me time to so much as blink before he backhands me. I taste blood and drag my tongue over my lip where my teeth had cut into it. The fucker. I do my best not to react.
“Your father’s here to speak with you.”
No other words could send a chill down my spine the way those words do. Guido’s here? I should have guessed, but Jesus Christ, I wasn’t prepared.
It must be obvious I have no intention of moving because Marco reaches for me and twists his hand into my hair. The pain from the earlier hit races through my body, and I cry out as he drags me toward the door. There’s a set of stairs that feels impossible to climb, but I make it to the ground floor, and I seewe’re in some sort of suburban house with wood floors and a nice kitchen.
It doesn’t feel right. I feel like I should be in some scary, dim, creepy mansion from the Victorian era or something with the way Marco’s acting. I shouldn’t be staring at barstools and a floral sofa through a little archway.
I do wonder where I am, but as he pulls me into the living room, the view from the window tells me nothing. There’s a house next door and some trees, but nothing to give away the location.
“There’s no need for that,” comes a too-familiar voice, and I fight back a wave of nausea as Marco lets go, and I turn to see the one man I never wanted to set eyes on again.
My father looks passive, which is when he’s most dangerous. His eyes are soft, and his mouth is curved into one of his Father Romano smiles, as I always called them. His hands are clasped in front of him, and he cocks his head to the side and gives me a look full of pity.
“What did you get yourself into, Alice?”
My eyes widen, and I almost laugh. “What didIget myself into?”
He scoffs and waves his hand, and Marco shoves me hard enough that I topple onto the sofa. The world spins again, and I only just manage not to throw up all over the nice beige-colored carpet.
