by Nicole Fox
For the moment.
When I’m well-secured, Rokiades appears from the side. He’s wearing an off-white suit this time.
“Nice suit,” I tell him when I’ve got my breath back. “Going to the circus?”
“You refused the girl I sent you,” he says, ignoring me.
I shrug. “She wasn’t my type.”
“That’s what she told me you said.”
“So why am I here?” I ask. “Missed me?”
The smile on his face gives me a strange sense of foreboding. I wonder about Renata. What if she’d gotten in trouble for visiting me? What if she’d lied about having Rokiades’s permission? It was just the kind of risky, idiotic move she’d make.
“What is your real interest in my fiancé?” he asks. His word choice is deliberate, as if I give a shit what he calls her. It’s fucking pathetic.
“I’ve already told you.”
“I’m not sure I believe you, Kian.”
“Then I don’t know what to tell you.”
“No red-blooded man turns down that woman,” Rokiades says. “I’ve had her myself. Numerous times. She’s very talented.”
“She’s also Greek,” I snap. “I’d rather fuck a pig.”
He bristles at the insult, but calms himself down a moment later. “You’re lying,” Rokiades surmises. “You want my woman.”
“She’s not your woman,” I say calmly. “When will you realize that?”
“She agreed to marry me.”
“To save me,” I point out. “So who can claim to have her, really?”
I know I’m goading him. But I can’t fucking help it. One look at that smug, wrinkled face and I want to fucking rip out of these restraints and murder the bastard.
Rokiades takes a step forward. “I will kill you when this is all over,” he promises me. “But I want you alive for our wedding. I want you to spend that night awake knowing what I’m doing to Renata. I haven’t touched her yet, you know. I’m saving that indulgence for our wedding night. I will fuck her so hard that she will be in no doubt as to who she belongs to. Maybe I’ll even get you a room next to ours so that you can hear her scream.”
I shouldn’t react. It’s just giving him what he wants. But my blood is boiling and my skin is crawling with rage and all I can do is tug at the restraints on my wrists as hard as I can while I roar.
Rokiades throws back his head and laughs, but there’s no humor there. Just black anger trying to find an outlet. He hates that Renata wants me over him. And he’s trying to save face by rubbing his power in mine.
“Such a strong reaction for a woman you claim not to care for,” Rokiades says shrewdly. “I think I will get you that room. It’ll be so much more fun fucking her, knowing you’ve got a front row seat.”
The clang of my chains echo through the warehouse. “Death is at your door, old man,” I growl at him. “Mark my words. I will kill you with my bare hands.”
The smile drops from his face and he nods to his guards. “Hold him in place,” he orders. “I need to use my fists.”
I can’t help but pity the old goat. I’m already cuffed, but apparently, that’s not enough for him. He needs to make doubly sure that I can’t hit back.
His guards hold me down as he rolls up his sleeves. Then, with a grimace, he punches me. Once. Twice. Three times. I take each hit without so much as a grunt, without a frown, without anything. I won’t give him the fucking satisfaction. And I can sense his growing infuriation in the desperation of his next punch. He winds up and gives it everything he has. My broken rib crunches again. I don’t so much as blink.
A new man strides into the room. “Sir?”
“What?” Rokiades growls. “I’m in the middle of something.”
“Sir, your personal doctor is requesting an audience with you,” the guard says apologetically. “He says it’s urgent.”
Rokiades glares at me. “It’s only a matter of time,” he snarls at me.
I smile and nod. “I couldn’t agree more.”
52
Renata
I’m sipping on some weak soup when my door slams open and Rokiades storms in. His chest is heaving, but I’m not sure if it’s from anger or exertion. When he opens his mouth, it becomes clear that the answer is “both.”
“You!” he barks, glaring at the maid standing next to me. “Get out. Now.”
She doesn’t wait around to be told twice.
Rokiades doesn’t immediately say anything to me after the maid scurries out of the room, slamming the door behind her. He just keeps pacing, like an enraged bull with no sense of direction.
My stomach twists a little as I realize the news that must have brought on this reaction. He knows. He fucking knows.
I decide that the only way to deal with this is ignorance. Deny, deny, deny. “Something wrong?” I ask innocently.
His eyes snap to me. “You little whore. You’re pregnant!”
I work my face into an expression of suitable shock. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“That’s not possible,” I dismiss confidently. “There must be some mistake.”
“There is no mistake,” Rokiades growls. “You’re pregnant. The tests fucking proved it.”
“I can’t get pregnant,” I say. “It’s medically impossible.”
Keep it together, I’m screaming at myself internally. Keep your shit together.
“Don’t play pretend with me,” he hisses. “You knew!”
“I didn’t know anything,” I lie smoothly. “I assure you I had no idea. I’m not even really sure I believe you right now.”
“I spoke to your fucking maids! Two of them reported that you’ve been throwing up at odd hours of the day.”
“Because you force me to go running every morning!” I snap back. “I eat nothing and exercise for hours each day. My body can only take so much.”
Apparently, I’m convincing enough, because Rokiades starts to look less rattled. He stops pacing and plops into the chair beside my bed, rubbing his mustache and gazing into the middle distance.
“He’s the father, isn’t he?” Rokiades asks with a sudden and eerie sense of calm.
Why deny it at this point? I want to scream in his face, Yes! Yes, he is, you fucking bastard, and there’s nothing you can do about that. He’s the father, you’re not, and I hope that makes you so goddamn angry.
But I don’t. Saying the words out loud would make it real. I want to keep this child to myself for as long as I can, before the world does what it does best: snatches everything pure away from me.
Rokiades doesn’t care whether I confirm it or not, though. “I didn’t realize how far it went between you two,” he mutters. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Does he know?”
I sit still. Saying nothing. Doing nothing. Hardly even breathing.
His eyes are dark when he finally looks at me again. “What to do with you now? You and the runt in your womb…”
The way his eyes flicker to my stomach makes me immediately protective. And instantly scared. “You can’t hurt my baby,” I blurt out.
There. I said it. I don’t know whether to be relieved that the secret is out… or horrified of what happens next.
His palm flashes out and slaps across my face. I blink away the sting, but I don’t cry out or tear up. Let him do what he wants. I don’t care how many times he slaps me. I don’t care about anything anymore.
“I can do whatever the fuck I want!” he snarls. “I own you. Which means I own that baby, too.”
My hands curl protectively over my abdomen. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed.
“So tell me, Renata,” he says conversationally. “If you had to choose, who would you pick? Kian or his runt?”
My body goes cold.
“Come on,” he urges, smiling like a man who knows he holds all the cards. “Which one would you save?”
I shake my head.
“If you don’t choose… I will kill both.”
&n
bsp; “No,” I breathe. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do anything.” He sniffs again, as though he’s the wounded party. Then he stands up abruptly and lurches back towards the door. “I’m not an unreasonable man. I’ll give you time to make the decision. Twenty-four hours. That’s fair, isn’t it?” He turns to leave again.
“Wait!”
He pauses and looks over his shoulder, one hairy eyebrow arched. “Yes?”
“I want to speak to Kian.”
I can see from his black expression that that’s not what he wants to hear. At this moment, though, I don’t care.
“Very well then,” he sighs after a moment has passed. He turns back to the hall and barks an order to his men. “She wants to go visit the Irishman. She has ten minutes and not a second more. Drag the bitch back by her hair if you have to.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I snap. “I can walk just fine.”
“For now,” Rokiades murmurs, dark eyes glinting with a foul fire. “For now.”
After I’m unshackled and escorted to the side building, I rush over to Kian’s cell and pull open the partition urgently.
“Kian?”
“Renata!” His voice reaches me before his face appears on the other side of the grille.
“Are you okay?” I ask, noticing that his face is slightly pale. It looks like he has a few fresh wounds, too.
“I’m fine,” he says dismissively. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“I… I have something to tell you,” I admit.
“Okay…?” he asks warily.
I take a deep breath. I can feel my heart hammering hard against my chest, but I don’t have the luxury of doing this gently. “I’m pregnant.”
Something flickers across his eyes. “Say that again.”
“I’m pregnant.”
“How far along?” There’s still barely an expression on his face. Is he shocked? Nervous? Upset? Angry? Happy? I have no fucking clue.
“I don’t know exactly,” I say. “It’s still early. About two months, maybe.”
“Two months,” he says softly, his eyes clouding over.
“Kian…” I can’t wait for him to process this. “He knows, Kian. Rokiades knows about the baby.”
He looks up at me, and his eyes focus again. “And he still let you see me?”
“It appears so.”
“But I thought—”
“I thought so, too,” I say with a nod. “Dr. Lenore is the one who broke the news to me. She told me that the lacerations in my womb have healed enough to… to let it happen.”
“Fuck.”
I stare at him, still trying to discern his reaction. “I didn’t think I wanted kids,” I say, desperate to fill in the torturous silence. “But it turns out, I want this one. And I don’t care if I’m the only one that does.”
His eyes snap to my face. “You’re not the only one, Renata,” he whispers. He smiles. It’s only a quarter of his full smile, but I take it.
Because, God help me… I believe him.
Infuriatingly, I feel tears spring to my eyes, but I try my best to force them back down. Emotion would only take up more time. And I’m pretty sure I’ve already used up half of my allotted ten minutes.
“Kian, that’s not all.”
His expression goes hard. “Tell me.”
“Rokiades gave me an ultimatum. I have to choose: you or the baby.”
He puts his hand against the partition, and I join my fingers with his instinctively. “It’s an easy choice, Renata,” he whispers urgently. “Pick the baby.” He says it as though it’s the simplest decision in the world.
“He’ll kill you, Kian,” I point out in horror. “It’s not just a threat.”
“He was going to kill me regardless. This just gave him the excuse he needed.”
I shake my head. “I can’t…”
“Think of our child, Renata,” he says.
Our child. The words are strange, but I want to get used to them. I desperately want that.
“What’s to stop him from killing the baby after it’s born?” I ask.
“Three things,” Kian says confidently. “One, it’s going to bode well for him to have everyone think he impregnated you so quickly. Second, he needs an heir and he’s not guaranteed a second baby. Third, raising the child as his own and keeping the child close to him will guarantee that you are tied to him. He’s going to want to use the baby to keep you in line.”
He takes one look at the expression on my face and his fingers tighten around mine. “It’s not going to happen, Renata,” Kian assures me. “I promise you. That’s his plan. Mine is different.”
“You’re in a cell right now, Kian,” I say. “Any plans you might have aren’t likely to be of much use.”
He smiles. “I still have a clan out there. And brothers. And friends. Just because nothing has happened yet, doesn’t mean nothing is going to. There’s not going to be a wedding, Renata. You’re not going to be a slave to that fucker for much longer. I will free you.”
“Can you free yourself first?” I ask in a small voice.
He smiles. “I’m working on it.”
“Renata!” Rokiades’s scream echoes across the warehouse space. I flinch instinctively.
“Don’t let the old man fool you into thinking he’s powerful,” Kian tells me. “It’s all an illusion.”
I reach up and graze my fingers against the scabs of old wounds his face. “Those don’t look like an illusion to me.”
“These?” he scoffs. “These are nothing. I’ve had much worse for much less.”
“Renata! Don’t make me drag you out of here!”
I see the blatant fury in Kian’s eyes. “Go,” he says to me.
I give him one last nod and head back over to where Rokiades is standing impatiently. “I wouldn’t have expected you to make a fool of yourself over a man,” Yannis remarks.
He’s trying to insult me, but the words have no effect on me whatsoever. I say nothing.
“What did he say when you told him the joyous news?” he seethes.
Beneath the mocking tone, I can sense the curiosity… and the insecurity. But before I can tell him to mind his own fucking business, the door to the warehouse is pulled open with a loud creak that makes the roof above us shiver.
“Sir?”
“What the fuck is it now?” Yannis barks.
“Drago Lombardi is asking to see you.”
“Drago Lombardi?” Rokiades spits, like the name tastes bad. “That son of a bitch is dead.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, sir,” the guard explains. “We vetted him. He is who he says he is.”
Rokiades turns to me with that manic glint back in his eyes. “Well, well, well… your brother seems to have nine lives, Renata,” he says. “How about we go see which life he’s on now?”
53
Kian
About fifteen minutes after Yannis drags Renata away from me, my door is thrown open. I get to my feet as a guard walks in with a pair of cuffs in hand.
“You medical check-up is here,” he says, keeping his distance. “Turn around.”
The size difference between us is enough that I can sense his fear. But I stand and let the guy do his work. I’m still reeling from everything Renata told me.
I’m pregnant. It’s yours.
I dared once to let myself feel something. But opening up to Annabelle almost broke me when she left. She took part of me with her that I never thought I’d get back.
But I feel it again now. That warm glow in my chest. It’s unmistakable.
And it’s all because of Renata Lombardi.
After the guard has cuffed me, he steps out of the cell and Dr. Lenore walks in.
“Evening, Mr. O’Sullivan,” she says smoothly.
I wait until her expression tells me the coast is clear. Then I lay into her. “Is it true?” I demand. “Is it fucking true?”
“We don’t have much time,” she says, as tho
ugh I haven’t even spoken.
“Sarah.”
“Yes, it’s true,” she says with a heavy sigh.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I snarl. “You knew. You’ve been here. You could’ve said something. And yet it was radio fucking silence. Explain yourself.”
“I did know. And I made the choice not to tell you,” she says stubbornly.
Some women, like Aisling, were nearly broken by their experiences. Other women, like Dr. Sarah Lenore, were made tougher because of it. When I saved her from the Lombardi trafficking rings many years ago, she was an altogether different woman. Skittish and wary, it took a long time for me to earn her trust. But her potential was obvious, even back then. She’s always been steely-minded. Sharp. Unwavering.
“You chose not to tell me,” I repeat, dumbfounded and raging. “What gives you the goddamn right to do that? You’re supposed to tell me everything.”
“As it pertains to business, yes,” she says unapologetically. “But this isn’t business. It’s personal and I made a call.”
“You made a call… about my life? About my child?”
“And I’d do it again,” she replies, still icy and calm even in the face of my hot anger. “You’re too close to the situation and I couldn’t trust that you’d keep cool.”
Jesus. Talk about the student surpassing the teacher. Not that I’m in any hurry to admit that.
But ironically, this is exactly the reason I knew she’d be fucking great at this. She’s strong. Carved from rock. She’s not the kind of woman who wants to forget her past trauma. She wants to learn from it. Rise from it…
So that she can go back and break the chains of suffering that once pinned her to the dirt.
That determination is why it took next to no convincing to get her to join the ranks of the Clan. Who better than me to give her the weapons she needs to hurt the people who hurt her? Who better than me to help her free the poor women falling into the same shadowy places that once entrapped her?
It took years to position her within the enemy’s reach. But even I never imagined quite how vital she’d become.
“I’m always fucking cool.”