Page 19 of Bathed in Blood

The dirty blonde man whistles, his eyebrows so high, they damn near touch his hairline. If my assumption was that Christian’s father wasn’t someone you disobeyed, this confirms it. When the silence stretches on, the doctor nods curtly to the room and dips out, followed by the dirty blonde one.

My breath loges in my throat as the glaring match continues, each man radiating enough malice and authority to kill a baby elephant with a single look.

When the man’s eyes shift from his son to me, Christian’s hand tightens further, leaving bruises in their wake. His body is tense, ready. For what, I can do without knowing.

When his father speaks, it’s the same brand of velvet as his son, but wiser, the cadence of someone who won’t be rushed. “I assume you need little explanation of what will be expected of you here, but I will offer one anyway. You will stay here, perform when you are needed. You will be fed, clothed, no different from any other member of staff. You—”

“Did you kidnap all of your staff?” The words slip past my lips, the tension in the room forcing them from their hiding place beneath my tongue. If I’m to be held against my will again, I would rather familiarize myself with the monsters pulling my strings, and that includes figuring out just how little freedom I have.

“My staff are quite happy, the ones who don’t owe me anything. If you comply—”

“Iowe you nothing. Not streams, not loyalty. I am done with the Blood Princess. Let her die in that house with hermasters. You get your monopoly back on the snuff industry, and she fades into the recess of the internet, where she should’ve stayed.” I don’t know where my confidence is coming from. Maybe it’s the way I had again dared to hope, only for that hope to be obliterated. Maybe it’s because, for the past four years, my every step has been chosen for me, my every moment filled with people I hated. Maybe it’s Christian’s hand on my ankle, the chain it represents. It could defiantly be the drugs. My stomach sours; I’m at the very beginning all over again. It’s Jax, Vince, and Anton, only these men don’t have that bargaining chip.

Lewis and Mom are safe, for now.

For now… I have a leverage I never had before.

Maybe I’m just fucking tired.

Too tired.

Maybe the breeze eventually stops blowing. Maybe it lets the summer sun, the storms, kill every last thing it ever cared about.

He smirks—if you can call it that—the slightest tilt of his lips skyward. “You have an opportunity here. A choice.”

My laughter bursts from me, as cold and cynical as the blood in my veins. “I havenochoice. I have never had a choice.”

“They forced your hand, but the tides have changed. I’m offering you a position. You can take what theyforcedupon you and make it something that worksforyou. Or,Ican force your hand. I assure you I am far more horrifying than that Sullivan scum.”

I believe him.

I really do.

He seems fit to leave it at that for the moment, stalking from the room before he turns over his shoulder. “Christian, I will see you in my office this evening. She stays in this room, or I have her gutted, and the last year of your life was wasted obsessing over her for nothing.”

It’s funny the way a blade can be positioned at your throat for so long without you ever realizing it’s there. My eyes find Christian as he glares forward, his sculpted chest heaving, his fist absently rubbing against his right thigh, a tick that betrays his façade. A year, huh? That’s a long time to be searching for little ole me.

The thought settles in my gut like a lead weight.

9

Allies

Christian

I tried to leave her alone because, logically, I should. I should leave my father, maybe even Jesse, to beat, bribe, talk, or fuck her into submission. The server’s eyes widen on me as I hold out my hands, demanding the tray of dinner. Her dry skin cracks as she grips the edges of the tray harder. “Sir, I was told to see to it personally that she eats.”

Apparently, the last two days I’ve spent snapping at everyone, boxing until my body threw in the towel, and jerking my cock raw, she hasn’t. What point she’s trying to make by being hungry is beyond me.

“And that worked so well for you the lastsixtrips you made down here?”

Not that I’ve been counting.

Her mouth opens, my suit jacket already too tight for me today. The laces on my shoes came untied once. I spilled my coffee. My new phone won’t stop ringing, and it’s everyone’s fault. I’m on edge, because of my—the princess.

A very stubborn, hungry princess who refuses to accept the inevitable. She will take up the mantle we made for her; she’ll serve until she can no longer. Then, she will be killed. Not much different from her situations with the Sullivans. The guards might even take a liking to her. My chest grows hot at the thought of their hands on her, wondering what sweet sounds she’d make.

Lana, Lana, Lana. You’re becoming more of a liability than a fucking asset.

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