by Ella Miles
Zeke’s jaw ticks.
I study his face turning white from loss of blood. He’s so stubborn that he will literally pass out first before telling me anything. And I don’t want to deal with having to call in a medical team to revive him.
But I can’t let him know that.
I cross my arms, seeming bored. “Start talking before you pass out.”
“I’m not going to pass out. I’ve been hit worse than this.”
I nod. “I’m sure you have. But I doubt you’ve been hit in the groin like this. It shocks a man’s system in a different way.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve been hit worse, trust me.”
I frown.
We both stare at each other, neither of us blinking. Whoever blinks first loses. It’s the unspoken rule. If I blink, he knows I’ll go get him something to take care of that wound. And if he blinks, I know he will spill in order to get the drugs.
We stare.
And dammit, he lets me into his soul. His soft eyes. His big heart. His selflessness. His need to protect, even in death, rather than ever hurt his friends.
I’m going to lose.
I blink.
He smirks triumphantly.
I scrunch my face in annoyance. “Sit your ass down while I go get you a Gatorade and some gauze to stop the bleeding. But if you think you are going to get a painkiller or a drop of alcohol without giving me information, you’re crazy.”
Zeke doesn’t move, not until I’ve started climbing up the stairs. But as I reach the top, I hear the creak of the mattress as he sits down.
At least he won’t pass out while I’m gone.
I return a few minutes later with the supplies: Gatorade, gauze, tweezers, thread, and a needle.
I toss Zeke the Gatorade, which he catches and chugs immediately without argument. He knows he needs to be hydrated so he won’t pass out from the blood loss.
Then I slide the bag with the medical supplies to him. I probably shouldn’t be giving him a needle, a potential weapon, but he needs it to close up the wound I caused. And having to do it without any numbing medication is another form of torture. I’ve stitched up myself enough times to know the sharp sting of a needle as it pierces flesh.
I slump down on the floor, feeling defeated.
“Thanks,” Zeke says, holding up the bag before he digs through it to pull out the supplies.
God, he’s such a gentleman even after I’ve been an ass to him. What is wrong with him? I know men, and Zeke is so different than any man I’ve ever met before.
“Don’t thank me.”
“Sorry, I was taught manners. And I use them, even if you don’t deserve them.”
I shake my head, my hands falling between my legs. “This can’t keep going on like this, Zeke. This has to end. You have to have a weak spot, some way to break you. Being nice, isn’t it. Seducing you, isn’t it. And torturing you, isn’t it. What do I have to do to break you?”
“You had the right idea with the torture,” Julian says, startling me as he speaks.
Zeke holds the gauze to his leg but stops rummaging through the bag.
I stand up, not liking being in such a vulnerable position around Julian.
Julian looks from me to Zeke. “You were just torturing the wrong person.” Julian looks back at me.
“No,” I say so softly that I’m not sure I even spoke the word.
Julian smirks, looking back at Zeke. “It worked before. You spilled your secrets just after I hurt her. Let’s see if you still have feelings for her.”
“He doesn’t. He doesn’t care about me that way anymore,” I say, looking at Julian, pleading with my eyes for him to not hurt me again.
But I can see from his expression that he’s not willing to stop without testing his theory. It worked before; he thinks it will work again. He hasn’t spent time with Zeke these last few weeks, though. He doesn’t know whatever connection we shared before has been broken. He doesn’t know Zeke would rather watch me burn at the stake than ever say a word that could risk his friend’s lives.
4
Zeke
Julian won’t hurt Siren. She works for him. It would be stupid of him to hurt one of his best employees.
He did before, though.
No—whatever happened before wasn’t real. It was a trick. A lie. He didn’t hurt her.
But it sure felt real to me.
I close my eyes, remembering that night. I remember Siren lying naked and bound on the floor. Blood, gashes, and bruises covered her flawless skin. Her eyes were burning, and her legs were spread with Julian between them.
He didn’t rape her. And he probably wouldn’t have. He just wanted me to think he was going to.
But everything else was real. I felt the warm blood on her skin with my own hands. I saw the wounds on her flesh with my own eyes. I felt her heart slow in her chest. I watched her pass out from blood loss. I felt how weak she was in my arms. I smelt the alcohol he sprayed in her eyes and hoped that she would still be able to see afterward. I prayed next to her bed when her breathing got so weak I wasn’t sure she’d wake up.
That was all real.
Julian really hurt her.
It wasn’t fake.
He will hurt her again.
I open my eyes, the pain from that night igniting something inside me. I wince as I shift in place, and the bullet in my legs drills harder into my muscle. Siren hit me good in the leg. She’s an excellent shot—to be that confident she would hit my leg and not my balls. Or she didn’t really care if she hit my balls.
But she knew exactly where to shoot me to inflict the most pain. I don’t think a single bullet has ever hurt me so much. My eyes are watering, begging me to let them cry. My teeth are grinding so hard together I’m sure I’ve broken at least one tooth. And my heart is jackhammering in my chest, trying to spread some pain relief throughout my body. But none of it is working.
I want some damn painkillers, alcohol, something to take this fucking hurt away. If I thought I could get away with lying to her about my boss in order to get the drugs, I would do it.
But the thought of watching Julian hurt Siren drowns out my whining thoughts about wanting painkillers.
Last time, I came into the room after he had already done the damage to her, but now, I’m going to have a front-row seat to the carnage.
Can I really just watch her get hurt without stepping in to save her?
I’m a protector. It’s in my blood. But what do I do when my choices are saving her or saving the only family I’ve ever known?
Julian looks at me, and I show indifference. I press on my leg wound to distract me from what Julian is thinking of doing to Siren. Thank god Julian can’t read me as well as Siren can.
When he turns his attention back to her, my eyes follow. And if I had any doubt about whether or not Julian would hurt her, the look on Siren’s face erases it from my mind instantly.
Siren isn’t a woman who is easily scared. In fact, the only time I’ve ever seen her truly petrified is around Julian.
But she’s a fighter. She won’t back down easily. She took me down even though she’s less than half my size. Yes, I was distracted and not focused, but even if I wasn’t, I wouldn’t give myself the automatic win. She knows how to use her skills and body in ways I’ve never had to learn to do. I’ve always relied on my physical heft to get me through, while she uses her wit.
Last time Julian hurt her, she was tied up. The men who dragged her up there may have even held her down while Julian hurt her. Or she may have agreed to take the punches in order to do the job.
But the way Siren’s eyes grow wide, the way her head shakes just a little, and the way she’s already inching her hand toward her gun tells me that she didn’t consent to Julian hurting her again. She isn’t tied up or outnumbered like last time. This time, she will fight.
Good.
I won’t have to make a decision. Siren can take care of herself. Yes, I may have to watch her take a punch o
r two, but that’s the worst that will happen. If I just remain indifferent to Julian attacking her, she can hold her own until Julian gives up.
Julian takes a step toward her, and Siren takes a step back.
I frown.
That’s not the woman I’ve come to know. She doesn’t back down. But maybe she wants to keep her distance to draw out this tense situation and really sell her fear to me, hoping I’ll give in.
Julian steps again; she retreats another step.
They continue like this, both dancing around each other.
I try to focus on the wound I should be dressing, but I can’t take my eyes off of them.
I don’t understand their relationship. He’s her boss. And she clearly gives him her loyalty. But why, if he hurts her? Even for a good reason? Enzo Black would never hurt me. He’d never sacrifice my life or my pain to get something he wanted.
Julian slowly inches Siren back, until she’s in the corner of the room. Her hands are by her side, ready to attack.
Grab your gun. Shoot the bastard!
But her hands don’t move for the gun.
“Let’s see how much you mean to the bastard,” Julian says.
Punch.
It comes out of nowhere and lands square on her jaw.
I hear the crack.
I can feel it in my own jaw. I’ve taken enough punches to know exactly how it feels. And I say with certainty, it doesn’t feel good. Your eyes immediately want to water, you taste the warm thickness of your own blood on your tongue, and you see stars for a split second.
That’s what Siren is going through.
Stop being Aria and turn back into Siren—the woman who calculates everything and would only take a punch if she knew she could deliver something better in return.
I wait for her to fight back.
She doesn’t.
I wait for her to reach for her gun.
She doesn’t.
Instead, Siren stands strong in the corner of the room, a punching bag as Julian starts attacking.
Punch, kick, jab.
Each time he hits her, more blood spills.
She doesn’t beg him to stop.
She doesn’t attack.
She doesn’t even throw up blocks to protect herself.
She just takes it, all of it.
Fight! Dammit, fight back!
Julian hits her exceptionally hard in the ribcage, and I know he bruised her ribs if not broke some.
That snaps her out of her spell.
This time he lunges, she blocks him, not willing to take anymore. And then she strikes back.
He dodges her hit, as her movements are slow now that she’s lost considerable blood.
But she’s fighting back. Yes! It will take her a second to gather her wits, to get her adrenaline pumping, and for the need to hurt him to push out her own pain. But once it does, she will fight back like a machine.
Instead, her eyes water with fear, and her lips seem to say I’m sorry.
What?
She shouldn’t apologize to this monster. He hit her a dozen times.
Her eyes cut to me one last time. And I see everything—her fear, her pain, and her apology.
She won’t fight back.
Her eyes break contact and return to her attacker.
Is this her last attempt to break me? To get me to save her over my friends? Or is there another reason she’s not fighting back against Julian?
Whatever is happening, I don’t understand. I just know that Siren is gone, and in her place is Aria. A beautiful, strong woman in her own right, but unlike Siren, Aria won’t fight. She’ll sacrifice herself to protect her boss, however misguided her thinking is. She’s a lot like me in that way.
I prepared myself to watch her suffer. I can handle watching her in pain. She’s choosing this to try and break me. She’s letting him hurt her to hurt me. Don’t let them win.
“You surprise me, Zeke. I never thought you’d be one to enjoy watching a woman get hurt like this. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are the same kind of monster I am,” Julian says.
He punches her in the face again, breaking her nose. I watch her cough up blood.
Fuck.
I can’t sit here and do nothing much longer. But what choice do I have?
I feel my own eyes water, but I don’t dare let them out. Julian can’t see how much pain he’s causing me. He has to be close to stopping.
He hits her again, and she stumbles. She’s barely standing upright.
This is almost over. Just hold on for a few more seconds. But I don’t know if I’m telling her that or myself.
Julian’s eyes light up watching Siren stumble.
I’m going to kill him. He deserves to die for this moment alone.
Julian looks back to me as Siren falls to her knees, silently pleading for this to be over. She wants him to knock her out so she won’t have to feel, or even remember, this pain.
I don’t know if I want him to knock her unconscious or not. I just can’t watch her in pain anymore.
This next one is the final strike. I know it.
Julian stares at my wound, and then he pulls something from his pocket—a syringe.
“Here,” he tosses the needle to me. “For the pain in your leg.”
I catch the syringe staring at it cautiously. Why is he easing my physical pain?
Julian reaches back and pulls something else out—a gun.
“No!” I scream, but I’m too late.
He shoots her in the leg, in the same spot she shot me.
The syringe falls from my hands onto my crumple of blankets and pillows as I watch Siren writhe on the floor in pain. But unfortunately or fortunately, she doesn’t pass out.
“Well—well, I guess I was right. You do have a conscious,” Julian says, smiling.
I grab the bars, looking down at Siren covered in blood and pain. She doesn’t look at me. She just lies still. She doesn’t even grip her gunshot leg.
“Tell me something that can help me locate Mr. Black, or I’ll shoot her again. And this time, I won’t be so kind with my bullet placement,” Julian says.
I stare down at Siren. Hold on. I’ll save you, just hold on.
“Enzo Black has family in Greece. That is why he was there. Locate his family there, and you’ll be able to set a trap for the next time he heads to Greece,” I say.
Julian grins. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I ignore him and stare at Siren, who still isn’t moving or speaking.
Julian looks down at her. “Get yourself cleaned up, and meet me in my office by six. We have work to do.”
And then Julian leaves, not bothering to help Siren at all.
I watch her carefully, hoping she won’t pass out now because there is nothing I can do to help her if she does. Her eyes close tightly as a single tear rolls down her cheek.
“Why do you work for him?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer.
“Why didn’t you fight back?” I ask.
No answer.
I sigh.
And then I hobble back to the medical bag and syringe on the floor. One plunge of the needle into my leg would give me incredible relief. But there is only one syringe, and Siren needs it more than I do.
“Here,” I say, holding out the medicine.
Siren looks at me finally, her eyes wide as she stares at what I’m offering her—relief from her pain, while I get none.
She shakes her head. “You really don’t understand that you need to stop saving me, do you?”
“Saving people is what I do, even undeserving people.”
Slowly, she sits up, and I realize Julian’s aim isn’t as good as hers. He hit an artery. She’s going to bleed out within minutes.
“Get the hell over here so I can stitch you up before you bleed to death,” I say.
She glances down and then inches over as I crumple onto the ground.
“Hand me the gauze,” she says.
I do, and
she holds it on her leg to stop the bleeding. She leans against the bars; her breathing slow and weak. She’s barely staying awake. But when her eyes look up at me, I know she has something she wants to say.
“Let’s hear it,” I say.
“Julian will realize you lied. You won’t be able to get away with doing that a second time. But…” she moans. “But thank you for saving my life. He wouldn’t have stopped until he killed me. So thank you, even though I don’t deserve it. Even though, in the end, you’d be better off if I were dead.”
She’s killing me with her gratitude.
And I can’t stand to see her in pain anymore.
So in a moment of weakness, I do what will ultimately stop my own pain. I grab the syringe and plunge it into her leg.
I do what I always do—I save her instead of myself.
5
Siren
“You shouldn’t have done that,” I say, staring down at where Zeke plunged the needle into my leg.
The warmth of the drugs immediately starts spreading, sending new signals of comfort through my nerves—instead of pain.
I take a deep breath in and out. The stabbing, sharp pain leaves my leg and is replaced with a dull ache, matching the rest of my body.
I need to have a word with Julian. It’s not okay for him to beat me every time he wants to get Zeke to talk. I’ll be dead by the end of the week if he keeps this up.
“Yes, I should have,” Zeke’s husky voice brings me back to reality. I’ll figure out how to deal with Julian later. Right now, I have a bullet in my leg, broken ribs, and a shattered nose. It hurts to breathe, and I don’t even want to think about the pain of standing, even with the narcotics soothing me.
I look up at Zeke and see him painfully staring down at me. But not pain from his own wounds. He’s not even gripping his leg anymore. He’s looking at me in agony. His eyes run over every injury on my body, assessing the damage, trying to pull my pain from my body with his eyes.
I’m still his weakness. He’d rather be in pain than watch me struggle. Julian was right. Even after everything I’ve done to Zeke, he’s still willing to protect me. And it will be his downfall.