Beautifully Mine

by Tara Lee

  Because I will skin them alive.

  A soft knock and my door opening makes me growl.

  “What?”

  “Bishop?”

  Luna enters slowly, waiting on the threshold. Fear clouds her face, I know I’m not the same man I was when shit went down with her and Ethan.

  Ethan stands behind her, wrapping his arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

  “Bish,” he warns.

  “Sorry, Luna, I’m just...” Taking a breath, I can’t describe how I am, because without Callie, I feel like I can’t breathe.

  “You’ll find her, Bishop. I know you will, and when you get her back, you will bring them all down.” Going by the way Luna's voice cracks at the end, she knows.

  Luna knows Callie isn’t getting out of this unscathed.

  No way will he let her.

  “I’ve tried everyone. No one, fucking no one can find her.”

  I clench my jaw feeling helpless.

  “Fuuuccckkk,” I roar.

  Luna jumps.

  “Bish.” Ethan’s tone is clear.

  Boris doesn’t take pity on anyone. Callie being mine makes his blood boil, and the fact I ended business between us gave him an advantage over me.

  He owns my heart right now, and I can’t pretend Boris won’t hurt her.

  The motherfucker better pray if he does, because the second I find him, my knife will meet his throat, and I’ll happily watch the blood spill as his last breath leaves his body.

  Ethan and Luna stay with me for a while more to make sure I don't fly off the deep end and kill every one of my men, because they all failed at their jobs two days ago.

  My queen was taken, and I won’t rest until she is in my arms again—until she is home.

  My father decided to make an appearance, trying to take over, saying I wasn’t fit to run things right now, my head space isn't right.

  I laughed in his face and told him to get the fuck out.

  My father is second on my shit list. He is lucky Boris decided to end his life by kidnapping my fiancee, because he took my father’s place in the lucky number one spot.

  I’m looking over security footage, trying to find something, anything to help me with a clue as to where they took Callie.

  “Uh, boss.” Dexter waits for me to raise my hand for him to enter.

  Ethan and Luna watch as he hands me a package. My name scrawled over the top has me hesitant to open it.

  I know it is from him. Boris is sending me a warning.

  I swallow and tear open the top.

  Ethan is trying to get Luna to leave because he knows if it contains a part of Callie, she will lose it.

  I slide out the contents, and a small USB stick falls out, clattering to the desktop.

  “What is it?” Luna pleads.

  Staring up at Ethan, I nod. It’s time. Luna can’t be here for this. I don’t want her to see what is on this video. I never planned to drag Ethan and Luna into my mess.

  “It’s time for you two to go.”

  “Go?” Luna screams. Tears stream down her face as she clutches on to Ethan.

  Standing, knowing I need to do this alone, I cup Luna behind the neck and bring her from Ethan right into my arms.

  He lets her go easily, she needs to hear this.

  “Trust me, Luna, whatever is on that stick, you don’t need to see.” Kissing her temple, I guide her back to Ethan's arms and nod, watching as he pulls his wife toward the door.

  Luna looks back one last time, and mouths, ‘thank you’.

  Watching my friends leave makes everything seem dark.

  Whatever is on this stick will break me.

  No, it will fucking destroy me.

  I may be a monster, but even monsters have limits, and mine comes in a fiery blonde who challenges me at every turn.

  Dexter brings me another laptop and waits as I fire it up.

  I load the stick, and an image of Callie tied to a chair is the first thing I see. Sending Luna away was the right choice.

  Because I’m pretty sure my heart is about to be demolished.

  The moment I hear her screams, my stomach fills with bile, my fists clench by my sides, and I see red.

  I watch the last man rape Callie, and the way she shuts down, my anger intensifies beyond control, and a murderous rage comes over me.

  Yanking my phone out of my pocket, I dial the one number I need right now and haven’t dialed for a reason, but he fucking owes me.

  “What?” His voice grates on my last nerve.

  “Come to the mansion now. No fucking questions.”

  I hang up, giving him no time to disobey me.

  Within thirty minutes, Brantley Vincent is standing at my office door looking like the smug fucking bastard he is.

  “I’m guessing you heard?” I say.

  “That I did. I'm sorry, man.” The fact he appears sincere makes this a little easier.

  “I need your help.”

  “Where's your shadow?”

  “Otherwise occupied.”

  Brantley clicks his tongue.

  “Since you helped me with my daughter, I'll help you Demetrius, but then we are done.”

  I nod.

  Going over my plans with Brantley, I know he’ll help me kill every last fucker who touched her.

  “So, your woman?”

  “She’s alive.”

  He lifts his eyebrow as if he doesn’t believe the lie falling from my lips.

  “I’m going to kill them regardless, but knowing she suffered because of me, knowing she may never come back from it, that she may have lost our ba—” I catch myself, but it’s too late.

  Brantley raises his eyebrows again with a smirk on his face.

  “Well, I'll be damned, an heir?”

  “If it’s a boy, yes.” There is no way I’ll force this life on a daughter.

  “We need to set up for when she gets back. Taking her to a hospital will only force questions I’m not going to fucking answer.” Ones I’m not willing to answer.

  I have my men set up a room and bring in a doctor I trust to keep their mouth shut. I have certain people on my payroll, and at times they become handy, times like this when my heart needs time to heal.

  She will, I believe that, but even Callie is bound to break at some point.

  I watch the video over again to make sure, I know where Callie is being held, and I’m moving in now. This is the second time I’ve failed to protect her, and even if she walks out of my life forever, there is no way she won’t always be mine.

  We gather every weapon, loading them all ready for battle. Because this is what this is. It is a battle. A goddamn war!

  Blood will be shed tonight.

  Every last one of Boris’ men will die tonight.

  I have plans for Boris and the men who touched what is mine.

  I smile a sickening smile as I see their blood on my hands.

  Every. Last. One. Of. Them. Is. Going. To. Pay!

  I have no strength left. After the men took turns, even the thought of getting up exhausts me. My wrists are bleeding, and the skin feels raw.

  Limply, I try to force my head up as shouting comes from behind the door.

  I think I’ve been here for two days, but it may be more. My breathing is sluggish; the lack of anything to eat or drink has made my stomach start cramping. Pains are beginning to grow, and I fear I’m losing my baby. Even though I’m dehydrated, my body still somehow produces tears.

  I feel broken, and a fear like no other as the noise escalates outside, finds its way through my body. But a need to protect my baby fights through me. I finally find enough strength to lift my sluggish body to lean against the wall.

  My eyes are heavy as the exhaustion takes over.

  I force them to stay open. The last thing I want is to pass out and for these men to— I shudder as the thought explodes around my head.

  Gunshots vibrate off the walls, and I scream out.

  I curl myself into the
corner, trying to hold myself together long enough to not faint. My entire body hurts, and I'm pretty sure I have cracked ribs.

  I find a shard of glass next to me, thankful as I wrap a piece of my torn shirt around it and hold it in front of me. My hand shakes uncontrollably, and I hold it outward at my chest.

  I can’t control the way my body shakes as footsteps come toward me. The fear is undeniable—they get closer.

  The creak of the door startles me. I shoot my back against the wall in fear. My lip trembles between my teeth as the glass cuts through my hand.

  Blood seeps down my arm. A man walks in holding a gun held high.

  I’m going to die.

  Panic rushes me. He comes closer. I curl into myself, afraid of what he will do.

  “Piccolina?”

  I sob, dropping the glass. Bishop crouches in front of me and wraps his hands in my hair. His forehead rests against mine, and I place my hands to his jaw. He cradles me to his chest. I sob and sob as he tells me over and over I’m safe.

  I let out a scream. His arm wraps protectively around me.

  He kisses my lips as gently as he can; suddenly, he growls when he sees every bruise and cut.

  “I’ve got you, baby.” He hisses, his teeth clenching.

  His arm encloses around my waist to help keep me up as I struggle to stand from exhaustion. He yanks his jacket off, covering my body so I’m no longer exposed.

  His fingers trail over my cheek after he ties the strap.

  “They will pay.” He hisses through clenched teeth, and the way his body is shaking has me scared.

  “Bishop.”

  His frown darkens but settles when he sees I can’t hold myself up.

  “I’ll carry you.” Emotion written in his eyes.

  Bishop will keep his word; these men will pay for what they did to me. I’m consumed with absolute devotion to this man.

  My husband.

  “As soon as I get you home I’m marrying the hell out of you. I will never let you leave my sight again.”

  His breathing is primal, and nothing will mask the dominance pouring from him.

  Tears sting my eyes. So many emotions run through me.

  I catch my breath, and my hand caresses Bishop’s jaw, as something grows between us a thousand times more than before.

  The humming, the flutters, and everything in between.

  Bishop leans in, brushing his lips against mine. The connection makes everything tingle, and I smile against his lips.

  “I’m glad I can still make you smile, piccolina.”

  My hands tremble hearing that name, and the way it falls from his lips has butterflies swarming inside my belly.

  I never thought I’d hear it again.

  Bishop tilts my chin, revealing my neck. He sucks on my pulse as I murmur,

  “Take me home.”

  I shiver in anticipation. Bishop leans in, stealing a chaste kiss before brushing his thumb down to wipe the tear falling over my cheek.

  “I promise to always protect you and our baby, piccolina.”

  A noise suddenly breaks us from our little bubble, and I look over Bishop’s shoulder. A man stumbles in the door.

  He’s holding his side, but before I can alert Bishop or he hears him, he lifts his gun, and before I know what’s happening, a sound ricochets off the walls and Bishop nearly drops me as he leans into me as I frantically try to hold him up.

  I grab his shirt, trying with every ounce of strength I can muster to keep him from falling. Warm liquid gushes against my hand, it’s blood—Bishop’s blood.

  Bishop collapses, his weight caving in over me.

  I scramble to lean over him, trying to find where his wound is to apply pressure, but it's so hard in the almost dark room.

  “B-Bishop, please,” I scream.

  “No, no, you have to stay awake.”

  I slap his face, doing anything to keep him from closing his eyes when blood splatters over me as he coughs. Bishop runs his fingers through my hair.

  I grip his shirt, eager to drag his head to my legs.

  My hand finally finds the wound, and I apply as much pressure as I can. He hisses when my hand sits firmly in place.

  “Please, I need you,” I beg him.

  Please, no.

  “You can’t leave me.” I place my forehead on his and I clutch him to me. I shake, tears rolling down my cheeks holding the man I love.

  “Brat,” his voice comes out breathless.

  “Ssh.” I urge him to save his breath.

  My fingers stroked his cheek softly, running them through his hair. I slowly watch the life drain from the one man who has always been my savior..

  I stare into the eyes of the man I so easily fell in love with, despite who he is.

  Bishop’s eyes never leave mine as I hold him to me.

  “Ti amo, piccolina.- I love you, little one.”

  Tears run down my cheeks, and my fingers intertwine with Bishop’s.

  “I love you, too.” I kiss his lips one last time and thank him for always saving me, for always being my protector, and for never giving up on me.

  “He’s here.”

  There’s screaming, but it’s too late.

  They're too late.

  Callie

  I was in too much shock by the time they took me back to Bishop’s home. It no longer feels like my home.

  Has it ever?

  A doctor checked me over, told me the baby was doing amazingly well and that I was strong, a fighter. It doesn’t feel like I am.

  I couldn’t breathe the moment Brantley walked me to Bishop’s room.

  I collapsed on the floor, clutching my stomach, holding our unborn baby while Bishop lay there unresponsive in another room.

  Brantley had to sedate me.

  “I’m sorry, it’s the only way, darling.”

  Darkness filled the room as I felt Brantley carry me to the bed.

  Now my body feels heavy, my eyes can no longer stay open, and I let the darkness take me, because I can’t live in the light anymore.

  The pain is too much.

  Every time I open my eyes, the pain is too much. I can’t bear to think about Bishop, let alone the baby I’m carrying.

  I lie here for a few moments as tears cover the sheet under me.

  Brantley hasn’t left; he seems to be making sure everything runs smoothly.

  He told me that every single one of those men got what they deserved, that Bishop took out Boris himself and every man who touched me. Told me they suffered, too. I assume Boris is the man who sat in the chair across from me barking orders, and the boss.

  Not that their deaths change anything. It doesn’t bring Bishop back and certainly doesn’t give my child their father either.

  I slowly pull myself up, and once I’ve been to the bathroom, I go in search of food. My stomach is growling and in need of anything, preferably a bowl of pasta; it seems to be what I'm craving.

  “Miss Easton, my dear, how are you?” Lorraine smiles sadly at me.

  They think they have to take care of me simply because I nearly became Bishop’s wife. But I didn’t.

  I never will be.

  I had to take the ring off, the last time I woke before they sedated me again. I hurled it across the room because looking at it, feeling it, just hurt too much.

  “Hungry.”

  Lorraine busies herself around the kitchen.

  “I’m craving pasta.”

  She gives me a soft smile and goes about making me some.

  I watch her as she does each step, loving how simple she makes it seem, and as soon as she places the most delicious-smelling pasta in front of me. I swear I don’t even swallow. I practically inhale it.

  “You're up.”

  I turn to Brantley on the phone. He pockets his cell before coming to me.

  “I want to see him.”

  Brantley looks like he might argue.

  “Take me to him, now.” I don’t care if they think it’s not for
the best or I don't want to see him like that, because I do. I want to see the man I love one last time.