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When did I get so attached to her?
I open my mouth, a snarl coming out. The stretching of my skin with the movement makes my cheek produce a fresh wave of blood. Maybe I’ll die by exsanguination. It will be slow. Terrible.
Something that each of these men deserve. Not me.
“So, that is the key, hmm? I honestly didn’t think she was anything to you,” Antonio says. “But imagine my delight to see that she means more to you than I thought. It’s a good thing she’s here right now, in the next room. Should I bring her in, so you can watch? It might loosen your lips.”
My eyes ache as they flit around the room, assessing the stare of each man. They give nothing away. They don’t have her. They can’t. She’s not here.
I fucking hope she’s not here.
I finally land on Lucas, who is watching me with wide eyes. He’s not surprised by these methods the men are using. We’ve seen them all before. We’ve seen stronger men than me crack underneath the pain, the searing agony.
There’s so much more they can do to me. Maybe I can convince him to end it before they can. It would be a mercy for him to put a bullet through my heart.
But no, I have to live. I have to make it out. God only knows how I can do that.
I realize that I’m still staring at him, and as he looks at me, he gives the smallest, subtlest shake of his head. I continue to stare. But he looks away.
Was he telling me that Wryn isn’t here? Was he asking me not to give him away? Was he saying he wouldn’t kill me?
“Sir, a phone call. It’s important,” a guard says, stepping into the room.
The men look at each other, and Antonio sighs, laying the knife down on the table, out of my reach. Paul pulls the ice pick from my hand.
He starts toward the door, and I realize we are at Antonio’s house. Joey enters, smiling like a wolf at me. The similarities between him and Geo are striking, showing how much they are brothers, but he is nothing like Geo. He’s bloodthirsty and sharp. He’s the heir to Antonio’s throne. But there’s no way he would ever be on my side.
“Chain him back up,” Joey says, grinning at me as he takes over for his father.
Two guards take my arms, roughly pulling me from the chair.
Blackness starts to slowly consume the outer edges of my mind until I’m blissfully sinking into oblivion, the room fading from my consciousness.
26
WRYN
Ilay a cool cloth on his forehead, careful not to bump the new bandage that decorates the whole right side of his face. He will have a nasty scar, several of them. But he is whole, he is alive, and he’s here. A tear starts its trek down my face, and I reach to brush it away.
I don’t want to be crying when he wakes up. When he finally opens those dark eyes and pins them on me.
I was afraid I wouldn’t see them again. Another tear sneaks out.
Since when did I become such a weepy mess?
I run one finger down his arm, relishing in the feel of his skin underneath mine. His left hand is wrapped, and a spot of blood appears in the middle of it, proving the utter carnage that was done to it.
His whole torso is covered in blue and black bruises, and his eyes are swollen. I’m not sure he will even be able to open them, so I can see his gaze on mine. His lip is split. There are red marks around his wrists, where he was bound. I’m sure there are a dozen other injuries that I haven’t cataloged.
I want to throw myself on top of him, mesh us together, never move.
I check the wet towel, seeing it’s grown warm from his body heat, so I remove it, dip it, wring it out, and place it back on his forehead. Then, I pick up his undamaged hand, wrapping it in both of mine as I lean forward, resting my head on the bed beside his prone body.
Peterson gave him some painkillers and said he might be out for a while. It’s been twelve hours since he came home, and I haven’t left his side, except to use the bathroom. Geo has checked in every once in a while, and Brigette brings me food and drink. A few other heads have popped in and out—Fernando, Jimmy, other guards and staff. All checking in.
But it’s quiet in here now. Just the rise and fall of his chest and my own thoughts to occupy the time.
I haven’t heard from Viktor since I left Chicago, but he came through on his promise. When I think about what I’ll have to do in return, it makes me shiver. It’s the not knowing, the surprise factor of it, that keeps me feeling antsy.
