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I should have her whipped for this. I should fucking whip her myself, but I’m too furious. I’m not thinking straight.
Footsteps fall on the stairs, beating the stone floor hard. Mateo appears under the archway at the bottom.
“What the fuck?” he says.
I thrust Evie at him. “Take her. Keep her out of my sight.”
The minute I let go, she jumps on me, clawing like a cat. I grab her throat, squeezing hard. She loses her balance. Her body slams against the wall. She fights like a tiger, her arms flailing at her sides. She aims for my face again, but when I let go of her neck to twist her around, her nails scrape rock instead of skin. She drags them over the rough surface to find purchase, trying to throw me off as I pin her chest to the wall. She’s hurting herself.
“Stop,” I say, pushing a knee against her lower back to hold her in place while I grab her wrists and force her arms behind her back. “You’ll tear your stitches.”
She doesn’t stop. She’s incontrollable.
Mateo looks on with big eyes.
“Get the tranquilizer,” I tell him.
That stills her. “No. Please.” She flattens her hands on the wall next to her face, trying to push away. “Don’t.”
She’s lost a couple of nails in the fight. False nails. They must’ve ripped off.
“Will you stop?” I ask, grinding my teeth so hard the sound reverberates in my skull.
“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t do it. Don’t make me choose.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Don’t make me choose. I’ll do it, Roman. I’ll do anything you want.”
Fuck. Holding her wrists in one hand, I grip her shoulder, pull her off the wall, and march her to Mateo. “Take her upstairs.”
He works his jaw from side to side, looking at me as if I’m the one who’s just gone off my rocker.
“Now,” I say.
She starts struggling again. “No. Promise me.”
Mateo does a half-assed job in restraining her, holding onto the back of her T-shirt.
“Promise you what?” I ask.
“That you won’t kill him.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask again.
One of Warren’s men speaks. “The last time Mr. Warren made her choose, he killed the man.”
Comprehension dawns.
She sags in Mateo’s hold.
I turn to face the man. He’s the oldest of the group. He glares.
I heard him fine, but I ask, “What did you say?”
He spits through the bars. “He made her choose, and then he made her watch as he tortured him to death.”
“Shut up,” Evie says, hugging herself. “Shut up.”
Some fathers don’t love their daughters enough.
Just like that, the anger evaporates. My chest deflates. “I’m not killing anyone, tonight.” Lowering my head to put me on eye level with Evie, I say, “Understand?”
Mateo lets go of her T-shirt.
She steps to the side. “Promise it. Promise on your father’s grave.”
My nod is solemn. “I promise.” Pointing at the stairs, I say, “Now go to my room and wait there for me.”
She obeys, a small figure walking to the stairs with goosebumps on her arms.
Mateo follows.
I hang back a short distance, letting her get a head start while I get my shit together.
When we’re out of earshot of the guard, Mateo stops me with a hand on my arm. “Explain to me what just happened in there.”
I shake him off. “You saw for yourself.”
“I’m not talking about the part about Warren making her witness torture and death.”
“What then?” I ask, irritated again.
“The part about her agreeing to do anything you want.”
I continue on my way.
He cuts me off. “Are you forcing her into your bed?”
I don’t reply.
“Son of a bitch,” he exclaims.
“It’s not like that.”
“No?” He looks at me for a beat. “How is it?”
“She’ll agree.”
He points a finger toward the basement. “Like she did in there? Is this your plan? Sending her back as damaged goods?”
“Aren’t you glad the plan isn’t killing her?” I ask with a frosty smile.
“Fuck.” He kicks the wall. “Fuck, Roman. Don’t cross this line.”
“It’s too late. I crossed it the moment I took her.”
The front door opens, and Andrew enters. “Hey. What’s up? It smells like steak.” Rubbing his hands together, he says, “I’m starving.”
Not breaking eye contact with my brother, I say, “There’s dinner in the kitchen. Take food to the basement when you’re done.” I add from over my shoulder as I walk away, “Leave the kitchen clean.”
“Fuck you,” Mateo calls after me.
I let it slide. I deserved that.
Unlike Evie.
Like she so accurately reminded me earlier, she’s only a pawn in the ugly games cruel men play.
CHAPTER 9
Christina
The images are still fresh in my mind when I enter Roman’s room and stop in the center of the floor. I don’t want to see those vivid flashbacks, but I’m back in the basement of Bell’s house and he’s using a hammer, starting with the man’s joints—fingers, elbows, knees, and ankles—and then the rest of him.
