Page 11 of In the Shadows

“Why?” The word falls from my lips without permission, but once it’s out in the quiet room, I can’t bring myself to regret it. As if today hasn’t been confusing enough, now I have two members of the Legion interested in my health and safety, so I’m bound to have questions.

“That’s a good question, Little Lamb,” he scoffs. “But one I can’t give you an answer to right now.”

I nod against the pillows despite him not being able to see me. The movement is painful and jerky, but at least I can move. I should be grateful for the pain, because at least I survived, and at least they didn’t leave me paralyzed. It seems strange to be grateful in a moment like this, but as weird as it sounds, things could have been a whole hell of a lot worse than they are.

“Tell me something about you,” he says, and the request catches me off guard.

He could be fishing for my identity, but why not just ask? He has every right to do so, I am in his domain after all, and he is taking care of me. But what other reason could he possibly have to want to get to know me? “I’m scared.” The honest words fill the quiet room. I’m not sure if I meant to speak them out loud or not, but perhaps it’s a good thing he knows just how intimidating his presence is.

The room falls silent for long moments, and I wonder if he’s going to reply at all. He probably wants me afraid after all, I hear that’s his kink. He likes his women weak and scared, but there’s something beating in the air that perhaps that’s not the case here. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking, and the drugs are making me loopier than usual.

“You have no reason to fear us, Little Lamb.” His voice startles me, the deep rumble coming so long after my admission that it catches me off guard. He says that now, but what about when he finds out who I am? What’s going to happen to me when I tell them my name and who hurt me? Will they let me heal before they send me to Charles, or are they going to hand me over bloody and bruised?

“I have no reason not to fear you,” I counter.

“Touché.” He laughs, and the sound makes my breath catch in my throat. Why does my body react like this to them? It’s never reacted to anything but my own touch, and even then I wondered if perhaps sex just wasn’t my thing. But every word he speaks and every gentle touch on my oversensitive skin is like a lightning rod to my core despite the pain and fear, I no longer think that’s the case. “For what it’s worth, we won’t hurt you. We’re not in the business of hurting women.”

That much, I believe. I’ve heard a lot of stories about these men, and even if half of them are true, their mission in life truly is to keep the underworld in order. Before they came along, things were messy. Every family had experienced hard times made worse by their enemies trying to take advantage of the situation by attempting to take their territory with no grounds to do so. Even the De Marco family wasn’t immune to these hard times, but women and children have always been off limits.

“Are you in any pain?”

“Yes,” I murmur, allowing my eyes to droop closed. Even though I’ve spent the entire day asleep, I’m still exhausted. My body aches all over, and every movement makes me wince in pain.

“Do you want some more morphine? Rogers has gone home for the night, but he left some here for you, and he’s going to check in on you tomorrow.”

“Rogers?”

“One of our private doctors.”

“Of course.” I meant for it to sound sarcastic, but the words fall flat. I don’t have it in me to be sassy, and honestly, the audience is much more dangerous than I’m used to. Even growing up in a Mafia family and living with the possibility of danger every day, no one in my father’s ranks would have ever been brave enough to touch me, no matter how hard I pushed them.

But I’m not at home anymore, and I need to learn to keep my mouth shut if I want to survive.

CHAPTER NINE

BISHOP

Charles fucking Davenport.

He thinks he’s the biggest and most important boss in this city, and as such, he calls on us any fucking time he feels like it. The asshole needs to be reminded where he falls in the New York food chain, and it’s well below us.

My father was brave enough to send Kaos and I to have this little chat with him, especially considering it’s two in the morning and I was asleep in the chair beside our guest’s bed when I got the call.

Something about her presence calms me. Watching her chest rise and fall steadily, her eyes fluttering in her sleep, it brought me peace, and it was nice not to have my thoughts running a mile a minute. The calm is unfamiliar but welcome, even if it is short-lived. In our line of work, the lulls are far outweighed by the storms, and that’s part of the reason we do it.

“What did he say he wants?” Kaos grumbles as he pulls up outside Davenport’s building. The asshole lives in the most ostentatious penthouse I’ve ever seen in my life, and although we have money now, it’s a world away from the life we grew up in. Cunts like Davenport really grind my gears with the useless bullshit they spend their money on. There are so many people in this city living below the poverty line, and if Davenport had it his way, there’d be even more.

The legitimate side of his business is development, and the number of buildings in poorer areas he’s bought up and kicked the residents out, uncaring about whether he was forcing families onto the street, makes me sick. I’m not a good person, but I know what it’s like at the bottom, and I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy. Well, maybe men like Davenport, just so they can see what it’s like to live in poverty, to wonder where their next meal is coming from.

“He just said he needed to see us.” I shrug. I’m trying to slide my poker face into place. I’ve never had any issues in the past, but tonight is proving difficult.

“I’ve had enough of this motherfucker.” He slams the door of his Aston Martin closed so hard the sports car shakes under the force.

“That’s why we’re here,” I remind him. When I woke him up to come with me, he was half-asleep when I was explaining why we were leaving the compound in the middle of the night in the dead of winter, just another reason to hate Davenport.

“It’s like he thinks we’re his fucking lap dogs.”

“Yep.”

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