Page 14 of Dangerously Kept

“Like I said, Declan has spent years brainwashing Logan. He’s a carbon copy of the man he thinks saved him. Declan is terrified that I will undo everything he’s done once he’s no longer in power. Which I will. The only reason he hasn’t gotten rid of me is that I’ve garnered the trust of his entire syndicate now that I’m basically running everything. He will lose them all if he kills me. But what he can do is ensure that the next in line takes over and keeps everything he’s built in place.”

“But Harper wants nothing to do with any of it. She said so herself.” Clearly, I’m still not getting the fucking message.

“Ronan . . .” Luca looks at me, concern etched all over his face. “Patrick said Logan would do anything to get back in Declan’s good graces. Anything.”

The room is quiet, and so is Patrick on the other end of the phone. In rapid succession, like everyone in the room is reading Luca’s mind, their faces change. First in understanding, then into panic. My little brother follows suit, and for the first time in two weeks, I watch his entire demeanor change from being filled with uncontrollable rage to undeniable sadness. “Brother . . .” he says in nothing more than a whisper.

And just like that it dawns on me.

Holy fuck.

“He’s going to make Logan marry her.” The second the words are out of my mouth, it feels like a bomb went off.

“I–I think so.” Patrick’s voice is filled with regret. “I think he’s going to make Logan marry Harper; that way, Logan can take over without me pushing him to step down. Declan will control Logan behind the scenes; nobody will ever find out that the man Declan raised as his own likes to sleep with men. Logan and Harper will have children–another generation of Whelan’s, and what’s worse, I won’t be able to do a damn thing about it. Blood comes first.”

“And Harper?” Mac’s voice cracks as he says her name.

“She will have Logan’s children and be locked within the walls of that house. You will never see her again. You will never be able to step foot in Ireland, let alone get close enough to save her. If we are right, Ronan,” another heavy sigh rings through the phone. “Listen to me and listen to me right now. I don’t know where Logan took her, but I do know that you have to find her. You have to find her now. If you don’t, and they make it to Ireland, they’re not going to kill her, Ronan, but she’s going to wish they had.”

10

Harper

Idon’t know how many days it’s been. I lost track after the day I tried to escape, constantly drifting in and out of consciousness, as any time I’ve so much as looked at Logan wrong, he’s beaten me. I might be able to push through his kicks and punches if he weren’t also starving me. Since that day in the kitchen, he’s given me nothing more than a couple of glasses of water a day and a bowl of soup every few days with a handful of saltines. It’s like that day unlocked something inside of him. Gone is the composed, albeit somewhat charming, man that took me. Instead, I’m left with a monster, clearly battling some deep demons of his own.

If this were any other normal situation and he was any other normal person, I might feel bad for him. It’s obvious that he is going through something that has caused him immense pain and regret. But this isn’t any other normal situation, and he isn’t any other normal person. Having a shitty life is no excuse to treat someone with such disregard for life. He’s kidnapped, stripped, and beaten me regularly, and for that, regardless of his trauma, he deserves to die a slow and torturous death.

Judging by how my stomach is writhing in pain from hunger, I should be due for another bowl of soup today. Maybe if I do everything right, he won’t lay another hand on me today. Maybe he’ll give me a little extra to eat. I’m just so hungry, so thirsty. I didn’t realize how all-consuming the thought of food could be, but apparently, it’s something I’ve taken for granted. I’m getting to the point where I would do just about anything for a decent meal, that and a shower. I haven’t had one since the night Logan took me. I know I smell disgusting, and I feel even worse. In a way, I’m glad Logan hasn’t offered to let me bathe because I know he’d stand in the bathroom the entire time, ensuring that I don’t have an ounce of privacy or make another move to escape.

Not that I could, anyway.

I’m beyond exhausted physically and mentally. If the blood and bruises, constant hunger, and rapid weight loss weren’t enough, I feel completely broken on the inside. Broken by the man who has held me hostage for days on end, broken by the man whose blood runs in my veins, the man who has made it his life’s mission to ruin mine, and broken by the fact that they haven’t found me yet.

Day in and day out, I fight the spiraling thoughts inside my head.

What if Declan got to them, too?

What if Mac and Finn are dead, just like Ronan?

What if they gave up looking for me? Maybe they just cut their losses and moved on with their life.

What if . . . what if I never see them again? Never feel Mac’s strong arms around me. Never inhale the scent of fresh linen as I bury my face in Finn’s chest.

If they’re dead, too, I might as well let Declan kill me. Because if they’re gone, I’d never survive it.

But I don’t know any of that for sure, and until I do, I can’t stop fighting.

“Never stop fighting, Baby.”

Ronan’s voice in my head causes tears to roll down my face, much like they have every. Single. Day. But, I let them fall, not that I could wipe them away anyway, considering my hands are still tied to this damn bed. I let them fall because I want to feel every ounce of pain. Pain means I’m still alive, I’m still fighting.

“I’ll never stop fighting, Ronan,” I whisper into the empty room.

When I hear Logan’s steps moving throughout the cabin I will my tears to stop falling and brace myself against the mattress, thankfully still covered in the oversized T-shirt. I will not let him see me crumble.

Only when his footsteps stop a few feet from my door do I hear another voice. I only heard one set of footsteps, so he must be speaking to someone on the phone. He probably still thinks I’m passed out from his earlier beating. I told him I needed to go to the bathroom, and he kicked me so hard in the stomach I threw up. Then I got backhanded across the face because I made a mess from throwing up. Fucking ridiculous. I use this to my advantage, though, and listen in on the phone call as best as I can.

“You can’t make me do this.” Logan’s voice pleads to whoever is on the other end of the line.

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