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“I swear to God, if you two are not dead yet, I’m going to kill you both.” A wave of relief washes over me as I hear Blakely’s angry voice through the earpiece.
“Tink.” I pause for a moment. Hearing her voice, unexpectedly, I feel a lump form in my throat. Ensuring her safety was my top priority, even if it meant dealing with her anger. “We’re all good,” I reassure her with a smile in my voice. “Bailey is fine as well.”
“Aidan Preston.” I hear her take a deep breath. Her voice is trembling.
“Did you think we would die that easily?” I’m trying to ease the situation.
“Why didn’t you say anything instead of keeping me in the dark? I could have helped.”
“Baby,” I start, but she cuts me off.
“If your opening line is ‘it was to keep you safe,’ you might want to reconsider before speaking. Do I need to remind you it is my team outside waiting for my signal instead of yours?”
“I won’t say I’m sorry for wanting to keep you out of harm’s way,” I say with a sigh. “You’re more than capable of protecting yourself, but you need to understand that if something happens to you, I’ll tear this world apart. Losing you was a temporary setback because I knew you were always meant to be mine. You may not have forgiven me completely, but mark my words, baby. Never. Again. Even for a day.” It’s like I can feel the breath of her gasp touch my face.
Scott’s voice drips with disgust, while Bailey’s “aww” is a gentle, sympathetic sound.
“You’re an arsehole.” I can sense the smile in her voice as she speaks.
“Yeah. But I’m your arsehole.”
Scott starts, “Seriously, mate. Not like we’re here, unable to move and listening to your cheesy shit.”
“You’re just jealous.” I playfully blow Scott a kiss and let out a laugh.
“Okay, okay, kids. Love all the love, but they’re coming back. Get ready,” Tim says before cutting the connection.
As soon as he finishes talking, the door creaks open, and six men burst into the room. Each of us gets two men, I suppose. Like six of them would actually stop us if we wanted to break free.
Laughable.
“The clock is ticking, it’s time to go.” As they approach us, I can feel the rough fibres of the ropes being loosened before being tightened again.
“Hey, dickhead. Be careful with my sister,” shouts Scott.
The guy gives him a dirty look before completely ignoring him. As soon as they finish, two men surround each of us and direct us towards what I’m guessing is the main room.
It’s exactly how I remember it. The room is in disarray, with chairs lining up in the centre and a nauseating smell that seems to be a mixture of sweat and blood. At least twenty men are gathered in the room, with Fusco and Shaan in the centre. The glint of their holsters and guns catches my eye, making them impossible to miss. As I scan the crowd, I can’t put a name to any face, but I can feel eyes following my every move. I turn my head to take in my surroundings, and my eyes rest on a guy who looks familiar from earlier.
“Sit,” Fusco orders.
We do as he says, waiting to see what he will do next. Scott’s anger is palpable as he glares at those who have mistreated his sister while Bailey shivers beside him. The tension is palpable as two men trail us from behind while the rest of the group stands stoically in front, anticipating their boss’ instructions.
“Now that almost all of us are here, I propose we should begin,” Fusco announces, walking towards us. “So. You’ve been quite the challenge to catch,” he says, with a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Maybe it’s just me, but I feel like you didn’t give it your all,” I say with a smirk. “I noticed no one wanted my head.” His fist connects with my face, sending a sharp sting through my cheek. The taste of blood in my mouth is like a penny on my tongue. Well, it took him long enough to lay a hand on one of us.
I spit the blood with a forceful stream, staining his shoes.
“You think you’re smart. And yet, you’re here. Ready to die.”
“If you die, I’ll bring you back to life to kill you myself.” Blakely’s voice crackles through the earpiece, and I can’t help but smile while Scott unsuccessfully tries to suppress a laugh.
“You think this is funny?” asks an unhappy Fusco.
“Not at all. But what do you want from us?” I ask. “I have to say, I’m not quite sure I understand. You want my family business, and yet, here I am. Still alive. It just doesn’t make any sense.”
Some of the men remove their masks, and I recognise some of the Snakes and some of The Twelve. I don’t know if he’s waiting for a particular reaction from me, but he won’t get any. We saw them at the gala,
