Page 81 of Illicit Throne

I shivered at the thought. The Callahans were known for their ruthlessness as much as their charm. They wouldn’t take kindly to betrayal, even if it was under duress.

“Think about it,” Nick said, pushing away from the table to walk over to Gio who stood stoically by the door. “I’ll give you the night to get over the shock. Take her to her room.”

Gio took a firm hold of my arm, his grip unyielding as he practically dragged me out of the room. The house was just as dreary and hauntingly silent as before. We climbed up the worn-out wooden staircase, the steps creaking under our weight. He led me down a narrow hallway lined with closed doors until we reached a faded brown one at the very end.

He unlocked it and roughly nudged me inside. The room had a single bed, an old dressing table with a cracked mirror, and a small window overlooking what seemed to be a deserted street. Without another word or glance, Gio left, locking the door behind him.

The shackles just seemed like they were for show, and it was offensive.

I stood there in the deathly silence, my heart thundering in my chest. I walked over to the window, pressing my hand against the cool glass as I gazed at the quiet street below, the shackles dragging on my wrists. A single street lamp emitted a faint glow in the distance, the light barely reaching the grimy window pane. The rest was blanketed in darkness, mirroring the fear and uncertainty threatening to consume me.

A chill ran down my spine, a shiver of dread that seemed to echo the dimly lit streets. Alone, I turned from the window and sank onto the bed, my mind racing. Nick’s chilling words echoed in my head again and again. The ultimatum chained me to a ticking clock whose end could only result in destruction. Either mine or Tristan’s.

I let my gaze trail from the window to around the room. The dreary brown wallpaper was peeling at the edges, revealing the damp bricks underneath. My breath hitched as I contemplated my situation.

I sat down on the squeaky bed and cradled my stomach, whispering soothing words to the life growing inside me. I hadn’t really spoken to the baby; with everything that had happened, nothing had seemed real yet. But it seemed real then. Real and fragile. The baby couldn’t understand, of course, but talking to them made me feel better. It grounded me in the harsh reality yet gave me a sliver of hope.

“We’re going to be fine,” I whispered quietly, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to convince myself more than the child within me. “I promise.”

As I laid there in the quiet room, all I could think about was Tristan. Despite everything, his face swam into my mind. His intense blue eyes, filled with a warmth that contradicted his harsh exterior. His voice, gruff yet oddly soothing. The gentleness of his touch when he tried to teach me self-defense. Would he come for me? How would he react to Nick’s proposal? Would he be able to navigate this treacherous game without bloodshed?

My eyes shut, and I fought off a wave of nausea. The bed was hard under me, and I felt myself drifting off, listening to Tristan’s voice…he was shaking me, telling me I needed to get up.

I was so exhausted. I didn’t know how long had passed, only that I was sweating when I came to and Tristan wasn’t there at all. All I could hear was the sound of the wind whistling past the trees outside and, somewhere in the distance, traffic.

I shivered as reality started to sink in, my mind still whirring with Nick’s words. His threats and demands echoed in my mind like a twisted lullaby of death and deceit. My gaze traveled back to the window, staring out at the quiet street below.

To protect my child, I needed to get out. Even if it meant putting myself in danger. Because, despite everything, I knew one thing for sure. Nick didn’t want to kill me. Having me alive was leverage. Having me dead was a huge problem. At least for now.

In the stillness of my grim surroundings, I found a shred of determination kindling within me. My gaze fell on the single bed, the dressing table with the cracked mirror, the dusty window. The room was a prison cell but every prison had an escape route.

The silence intensified around me as precious seconds ticked by. I had no way of knowing when Giovanni would return but I knew that right now was my best chance. I could run or hide, disappear into the shadows and buy myself some time. I could try to find someone who could help me, a way to communicate with Tristan. He was my hope, my lifeline in this dreadful situation.

I glanced at the window again, studying it meticulously. It was small and dirty, but large enough for me to squeeze through if necessary. The lock appeared rusted; it might be easy enough to break it open with a little force—and luck. Beyond the window lay an alleyway lit by a single flickering lamp post. I was on the second floor, so I was going to stumble down, but fuck it. I would limp out of here if I had to.

The realization dawned on me with a surge of adrenaline, my heart pounding in my chest as I approached the window. I placed my palms flat against the cool glass, feeling the slight give of the old frame. My breath hitched as I took in what was on the other side—the alleyway, damp and dark, promised both danger and escape.

In the distance, I could hear the sound of vehicles. Not too far, I didn’t think. I could make it by foot and flag someone until I found a phone. I would call my father, he would pick me up, and he would deal with Nick Rossi himself.

I hesitated for a fraction of a second, fear and resolve warring within me. Then, with a surge of desperate strength, I jimmied the lock. In the distance, I thought I heard cars nearby, then the shocking sound of gunshots.

Fuck. I had no idea what that meant, all I knew was that I probably had to get out. If I managed to escape now, I could take advantage of the chaos…but only if the window gave in.

To my surprise and relief, it snapped open with less resistance than I anticipated. The window groaned its protest as I shoved it upwards, the chill night air rushing in to greet me.

But before I could hoist myself up onto the sill, a sudden noise behind me sliced through the silence—a low creak, one that could only come from the hallway outside my door. My blood turned to ice. Was Gio already returning? Or worse, was it Nick, coming back to seal my fate with his cold smile and colder heart?

With no time left to think, I swung my legs over and pushed myself through the narrow opening. My heart pounded like a drumbeat of terror and determination as I clung to the outer sill, the drop below stretching into an abyss my mind refused to measure.

And then, right when I was about to let go and leap for freedom or damnation—whatever awaited me in that dark alley—the door to my room crashed open behind me. And I was fucked.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Tristan

Dad had someone track down Rossi’s phone activity, and soon, we were on our way to a small house only a few minutes down the road. It wasn’t just Kieran and I, a small convoy would meet us there: my father, her father, their men.

We pulled up to the house, leaving the vehicles far enough away to avoid alerting anyone inside. The structure was nondescript, blending in with the rundown forest area it was nestled in. I took a moment to observe it, the peeling paint and sagging porch an outward symbol of the decay lying within.

“Stay behind me,” I instructed Kieran, feeling a protective surge for my younger brother despite what he had done. I didn’t want to deal with another person I loved in danger. Even if that person was an absolute fucking idiot. He nodded, his normally aloof expression replaced by a grim determination that mirrored my own.

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