Page 105 of Callum

Dodge lunges forward, and I tense in response. Lachlan’s hand is on my back again, but not even Lachlan will be able to stop me from ripping Dodge apart with my bare hands if he hurts her.

“You’re lucky I have plans for this mouth.”

“I’m going to kill him.” None of my brothers argue the fact, which I appreciate. Lying on this frozen forest floor feels like torture, but I remain still even as Dodge moves closer to Rosalind. I start to imagine how I will torture Dodge before he dies, the thoughts bringing a small smile to my face. I’m going to start with cutting off his hands since he’s so fond of putting them on what’s mine.

“He needed me to get rid of someone who had become a real pain in his ass. Turns out, his son had knocked up some bitch, and Mingus wanted her out of the picture,” Dodge straightens to his full height, puffing out his chest. “So, he called in the best.”

Lachlan’s snort is far louder than it should be, but no one shushes him. If there were a list of “the best”, Dodge Roman’s name would be at the very bottom. He would fall below all the MacAlister Brothers, his own sister, all of the GiGi’s, including the two prostitutes that broke into my home, and my five-year-old niece.

“I started looking into you,” he smirks, beginning to pace in the space between Rosalind and the GiGi’s. I see Ginetta relax behind him, something flashing in her hand. Was she about to attack him?

“I was pregnant,” Rosalind growls, and I see her move behind the car when Dodge’s back is turned. I want visuals on her face, but something tells me there won’t be enough time to get a man to the opposite tree line before this powder keg ignites.

“Yeah, but you wouldn’t be pregnant forever. However, if I killed you, well,” he laughs loudly, and the group of Goons behind him quickly join in. “That would be a little more permanent.”

Rosalind huffs, her voice sounding far too calm. “If the Father took a Hit out on me, then I should be dead.”

“Yes, you should be,” Dodge agrees, pacing back and forth in front of her. “But I saved you, Red.”

“Saved me?”

“I made my own deal with the Father to keep you alive.” He waves a hand through the air as if swatting away some minor inconvenience. “I just had to guarantee that your child died.”

“I’m going to kill him.” This time, my voice is joined by at least two of my brothers. Their anger matches mine, and I feel a sense of calm wash over me. My daughter has people fighting for her—even if Rosalind and I don’t make it out of this alive, Violet will have a family.

Rosalind’s voice sounds like she’s speaking through gritted teeth when she finally asks, “Why would he take that deal?”

“Because I offered it with something he wanted more than your head on a stick.” Rosalind doesn’t say anything, but Dodge still smiles victoriously down at her. This is the moment he’s been gearing up for—the thing he’s wanted to tell her the whole time. “I gave him his backstabbing prodigal son on a plate.”

Thirty: Truculent

ROSALIND

My knees ache from pressing into the light layer of snow on the ground. I’ve unhooked my foot from the ropes while Dodge has been talking, but I can’t get my other wrist out without drawing unwanted attention. Not that Dodge would notice my jerky movements.

He’s been too busy systematically explaining how he orchestrated the death of my child so that he could fuck me.

What reaction is he expecting? Am I supposed to be grateful that, once again, my life has been dictated by what lies between my legs? Or am I supposed to swoon over the lengths he was willing to go to own me? I might as well thank him for not giving me a single orgasm in three years while I’m at it.

A broken clock might be right twice a day, but a man like Dodge Roman will never find the clitoris.

It didn’t escape my attention that Dodge has been talking about my daughter like she’s dead. He has no idea she’s been with Grim all this time, which means Ginetta must have done that behind his back.

She saved my daughter.

She also lied to me for the last three years, forced me back into prostitution, and let me believe my daughter was dead, so the grace I feel for her only goes so far.

“What do you mean?” Ginetta’s voice is harsh, and I see the knife glinting in her fist. She pulled it when Dodge grabbed my face but hasn’t put it away yet. “Which son is stabbing him in the back?”

“They all are,” Dodge sounds so annoyed by her question, even though an audience is exactly what he was aiming for. Why else would he be monologuing about how brilliant his plan was? “But Grant is the biggest problem.”

I can only hope that Callum and his brothers are hiding in the woods listening to this. The Father knows they’ve been plotting against him all this time. “How is he a problem?”

“He’s a snake,” Dodge spits, his face growing angry under this line of questioning. It’s obvious he had hoped everyone would simply fall at his feet once we knew his grand scheme.

Not a fucking chance.

Harlowe scoffs, her head still bent over the bag at her feet. “Who amongst us isn’t a snake?”

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