Page 5 of Vicious Redemption

No, after tonight, I’m ready to punish her, to put her back in her place—and obliterate her family.

An inkling of guilt tries to work its way into my chest, weakening my resolve as Tia’s face flashes vividly before me, this time tears streaming down her cheeks. I promised myself I wouldn’t hurt her like that again.

But that was when I thought she was little more than an innocent victim surrounded by a world of darkness.

Now, I see her for the temptress she really is.

And I crush my momentary weakness.

3

TIA

My nerves are on edge as I pace back and forth along the foot of the four-poster bed Leo and I have been sharing for nearly a month, since our wedding night. It’s been hours, but I can’t sleep. I’m too terrified of what’s been happening in my absence—and worried about what might happen when Leo comes home.

Sharp footsteps echo down the hall, making me jump, and I whirl toward the door, expecting Leo to enter at any moment. But once again, it’s a false alarm.

No one will tell me anything.

If they have news, they’re keeping it from me.

They won’t talk to me.

The staff won’t even look me in the eyes.

And as the hours drag on and Leo doesn’t come home, a cold dread slowly starts to settle deep in my belly. The mayor wouldn’t arrest Leo, would he? What if Leo killed my family after he had me removed from the building? Surely, he would go to jail then.

“We’ll be okay,” I assure our baby, resting my palm on my belly as I attempt to soothe us both. “He’ll be okay. Everyone will be okay.” God, I hope that’s true.

But Leo never comes home.

As the minutes tick by slowly, and the first rays of sunlight start to filter through the blinds, I feel my tears beginning to build once more. I cried my eyes dry when Leo’s men brought me home. I thought I’d run out of them entirely. But now, it seems I’ve reached a new level of despair.

I don’t dare think about the pain of my father’s betrayal. He betrayed Leo. He betrayed me. And why? He can’t possibly think our family can win that war. We have no one to stand with us. I thought that was why I married Leo in the first place. To give us a modicum of immunity. To save us from certain death.

Swallowing hard, I press the heel of my palms into my eyes to stave off the tears. The smoky eye I so painstakingly applied at the start of the evening is still fairly intact, though it’s left my eyes painfully dry after crying.

But I haven’t wanted to spare a moment to undress. I’ve been too riddled with anxiety at the thought of Leo coming through the door. So I’m still wearing my flirty black A-line corset-bodice dress with layers of glittering black tulle that trail to the floor. The only thing I bothered to take off was my strappy black heels when they started to make my freshly healed ankle throb. Since then, all I’ve done is wait and pace, chewing the inside of my lip until it bled.

It would seem I’ve waited in vain.

As the sun creeps more confidently through the window, I resign myself to the fact that I can’t keep holding my breath for Leo’s return. I’m exhausted—physically, emotionally, mentally. All the while, he very well could have chosen to stay in a different room last night.

Perhaps he’s so furious, he doesn’t even want to speak to me.

My heart twists painfully as I consider that new possibility.

Reaching up to my hair, I slowly work the bobby pins from my tired scalp, letting the carefully curled ringlets cascade around my face and shoulders. The tiny pins make a soft clinking sound every time I drop one into my jewelry dish that sits on my vanity table.

It feels painfully good when the last piece of metal comes out, and I comb my fingers through my locks, loosening the strands with a grateful groan.

That’s when the door slams open.

I yelp at the unexpected noise and whirl to face my stony-faced husband as he fills the doorway. His hazel eyes are flinty with malice, and I take an involuntary step back until my hips bump against the vanity table.

“Leo,” I breathe as he closes and locks the door behind him.

My fear swiftly melts back into anxiety at the look of exhaustion on his face. He hasn’t slept at all. That much I’m certain of.

---