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“You. Sneaky. Little. Fuck,” he sneered through clenched teeth. “I suspected you and Ginger were in a relationship, but to be Xavier Michaelson’s nephew?” He cocked his head to the side, his nostrils flaring. “It wasyou.You helped that Cindy whore steal the girls.”
He stood straight and then reeled his fist back, punching me again.
“Was Jace in on it?” he demanded, his cheeks beet red. “Huh? Was my fucking son involved?”
“No,” I said with promise, refusing to give him up. Damien could have me. I didn’t care as long as Ginger was safe. We’d be down a man, but we had better chances surviving this war with Jace still around as opposed to us both dying.
“Jace wasn’t part of it. I swear that oneverything.”
“Where is Ginger? What did you do with her and the rest of my merchandise!?”
“They’re not fucking merchandise, you sick, sadistic fuck. They’re people!”
Damien pulled out his gun and shot me in the center of my left foot, his aim training on the other. I cried out in pain just before the second shot fired, my screams tearing through the air.
“Next shot goes in your head,” he threatened.
“I won’t tell you. Just kill me.”
Damien raised the gun to my head, surprising me when he suddenly stepped back and lowered the weapon. “I’ve got a better idea.”
He pulled out my burner phone next, my guts twisting as he began typing out a message, pressing SEND before he snapped it closed.
All he gave me was a dark, twisted smile before he spun on his heel and slammed the fucking door shut.
Forty-Five
Ginger
Iwokeupyetagain in this mold-infested hotel Friday afternoon and groaned as I pulled the stiff blankets over my head to shield the sun’s unbearable rays from my eyes.
No. I don’t want to get up. I’m so tired. So…
My stomach churned, souring until I had no other choice but to jump out of bed and rush to the bathroom, dry heaving until nothing but bile and last night’s Chinese takeout came spewing out.
God damnit. Not again.
I gripped my stomach as I sat next to the toilet and rocked myself back and forth, sobbing softly as my eyes slid over to the pregnancy test box sitting in the trash with the two positive tests I’d taken yesterday morning inside it.
Isaac was right. I can’t stay here. I have to leave.
The nausea amplified again, and after about five minutes of puking everything I ate last night, my stomach felt better enough for me to move around freely. I wasn’t supposed to check out until tomorrow morning, but things changed.
There’s a life growing inside of me now.
I had no idea how far along I was, but to be frank, being pregnant wasn’t what scared me the most. Between Damien’s unlawful assaults and all of the beautiful, mind-blowing times Finn and I were together, I truly had no idea whose child I was carrying.
After brushing my teeth, I packed up my products and toted my little toiletry bag out the room, tossing them into the already open duffel on the floor by the bed. As I grabbed my burner off the nightstand, I gasped down in surprise at the unread message from Finn.
I love you. I want to see you.
I grinned at his message, seeing he’d sent it last night after I’d fallen asleep.
I want to see you, too.
Placing the phone on the bed, I quickly stripped out of my clothes and changed into new ones. By the time I’d finished sliding on my shoes, my phonedingedwith a new message.
Damien gave me the day off. How does a late lunch date sound?
