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He turns to me, his eyes wide, almost panicked, as he stares at me for a moment. Then, without a word, he closes the distance between us. I am unable to look away as my heart slams against my chest watching him approach me.
Holding my breath, I continue to stare at him, waiting for him to scream at me or hit me. Whatever it is he’s going to do, because he is looking at me, and it’s clear he is filled with rage. I just don’t know who he is going to focus that on. It’s typically me, so I brace myself.
He neither strikes nor yells at me.
Instead, he clears his throat and turns his head to the side before he slowly brings his gaze back to meet mine. The anger dissipates, and I’m left feeling extremely uneasy as he continues to stay silent. His gaze connects with mine for a long moment.
Then he finally speaks.
“You’ll be marrying one of the men in this club. You arehisforever. Do you understand that?”
I don’t know why he thinks I’m such an idiot. He should know I’m smarter than most girls my age. I may only be eighteen, but he raised me after all. He should know this. Even before he went to jail, I was smarter than he ever gave me credit for.
“I understand a lot of things,” I say, arching a brow as I stare at him, wondering if he’s going to even say a fucking word about what Dutch did to me, about what he wanted to do to me.
I feel brave right now, and I don’t think I should, so maybe Iaman idiot.
He grunts but doesn’t respond immediately. I watch as he lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his hair. He almost appears upset about things, but I know Raul—his heart isn’t that warm.
Business is business, blood doesn’t mean anything, and female blood is nothing more than a bargaining chip. If he’s upset about anything, it’s because he didn’t make any money off this deal—and me.
“Don’t fuck this up, Piper. We are on thin ice with them as it is. Dutch is done for if he doesn’t get his shit together. Don’t let your blood spill next.”
Without another word, he turns from me and marches away. I watch his back as he leaves and assume this will probably be the last time I see my own brother. I have a million things I could say to him, but I decide against it. He wouldn’t care what I said or thought anyway. He never has.
I’ve been spending my last weeks of solitude forgiving myself.
Also, I’ve decided to release my anger toward Dutch, Cyrus, and Raul for their hands in what happened to me. I am going to take part in my own destiny in my own life and become an active member of my future, or at least try.
Bad things may have happened to me, but that doesn’t mean I should wallow in them forever. I need to look at my life as a whole and decide if this is what I want. If this is a life I can be happy or at least satisfied with. Though I’m not sure I have much of a choice in it, unless I run.
Once Raul is gone, I observe the other men as they file out of the meeting room. They are mostly all taken and seem to be in love with their women. I’ve been watching them. Their women are gorgeous as they move around the place. I haven’t met any of them yet.
I don’t think they would want to meet me. I’m this bruised creature that was brought in and dumped in the corner. That slave-whore who was found crawling around on my hands and knees wearing scraps of fabric.
I wouldn’t want me around my husband either, or to get to know me—ever. I understand, and I don’t feel any kind of bad blood toward them. Just my presence is this taboo thing that should be ignored.
Maybe one day, I’ll be able to have some friends. Maybe it will be them, but most likely not. I have to wait and see what happens now that it’s official. Now that I’ve been designated to belong to one of these men. I’ll just have to wait to see what happens.
I knew they wouldn’t allow me to stay here rent-free, skulking in the shadows forever. I just didn’t know exactly what the payment would be. I’m surprised it’s this, a marriage, and not one of the women who freely gives her body to any of these men who wish to have it.
However, nothing is ever free.
And as a woman who is valuable to a certain demographic, only a certain set of men, I am certainly not going to be permitted to stay hidden in my room to be left to myself. I have value, and I’ll be used for that.
I’ll be the less than tacky glue that holds my brother’s organization to this one. Which seems to be falling apart at the seams if Dutch is truly done for. I’m honestly not sure how long I’ll be alive anyway in my situation. Women like me are typically used until there is nothing left before they’re thrown away.
I can’t worry about Dutch. He made his own bed, and now it’s time he accepts his damn fate.
Serves him right.
My thoughts are interrupted when a whiff of cologne mixed with leather and oil passes by before a shadow falls over me. Turning my head, I find the man who I thought was dead. The man who Cyrus’ men beat to shit, almost to death, standing right beside me.
He looks normal now. Back to himself. All healed. And the way he’s looking at me, watching me silently, is almost unnerving.
I don’t know his name.
I don’t know any of their names, another coping mechanism I’ve taught myself. Never get personal. But I decide I should rectify that, especially since one of these men is going to supposedly marry me.
