Page 44 of Blackmailed to the Altar

“Well, I prefer Vogue–” Darren started, but I cut him off.

“You read Vogue?” My voice rose from my surprise.

“Teen Vogue. You didn’t let me finish, doc.” He gritted his teeth in a grin. Right now, he looked like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Instead of an orange jumpsuit, this prison had different colors, and Darren wore white. It was dirty, like he’d been in a fight recently. He had no remorse. I could see it in his body language, but I had to find out everything.

I leaned back, swallowing my vomit, and motioned my hand. “Go on.”

“Probably because he’s been released,”I muttered. I shook off the haunting memory of meeting Darren. The man shouldn’t be out in polite society. He was a menace, but I was too far away to do anything about his release right now. Maybe in the future.

Eden gasped.

I instantly wrapped my arms around her ignoring her flinch.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to blurt that out.”

“It’s alright. I wish Silas could kill him,” Eden was saying.

I pulled back and gave her a fake grin. “Then why don’t we go ask him to do just that.” I stood and stretched my hand out to her. She looked at it for a second before placing her own in mine. We walked out of the office, hand and hand, in search of her husband. Maybe it took a monster to slay a monster. I wasn’t sure. But I guess I was about to find out.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Sebastian

The room felt colder than usual, the silence hanging heavy, like a storm about to break. I sat at the kitchen table, idly stirring my espresso, the rich aroma mixing with the scent of freshly baked cornetti. The weight of the famiglia’s responsibilities had always been mine to bear, but today it felt heavier. My head ached, a familiar pressure that warned me something was underneath my skin, probably watching from the back of my mind.

Silas was across from me, his face pale and gaunt, a stark contrast to his usual robust self. His injuries had taken a toll, but he was determined to push through, a testament to his stubborn resilience.

We were in the middle of a quiet breakfast when the door creaked open. Eden and Mya walked in, hand in hand, their faces a mixture of determination and unease. My eyes immediately went to Mya, her fiery-red, curly hair cascading down her back in a tousled mess, her expression serious yet resolute. Eden, Silas’ wife, looked fragile but determined, her hand gripping Mya’s tightly.

“Buongiorno,” I said, trying to keep my tone light, despite the sudden tension in the room. Silas nodded in greeting, his eyes narrowing slightly as he sensed something was off.

Eden stood before me, tiny and trembling, her eyes haunted by the dark shit she’d seen in America. She must’ve been in session with Mya. Her eyes weren’t clear like normal. There was a storm brewing in her irises.

Eden took a shaky breath, and cleared her throat, her voice soft but steady. “Silas, Sebastian, we need to talk.” Her eyes darted around, as if someone might burst through the walls at any moment.

I exchanged a glance with Silas, who sighed and set his fork down. “What’s going on?”

Mya and Eden took seats at the table, still holding hands. Eden took a deep breath. “It’s about U-uncle D-D-Darren. He’s… he’s going to cause trouble again, I just know it.”

Silas’ face darkened, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean?”

Eden’s eyes filled with tears, but she held them back. “He’s been released, and I can’t stop dreaming of him making threats from the States, trying to contact me at every turn. I… I can’t sleep. I keep thinking he’ll come here. I need to know I’m safe, Silas. I need him gone.”

Silas’ hands clenched into fists, but before he could speak, Mya jumped in. “We know you’re not well enough to handle this right now, Silas. That’s why we’re asking Sebastian.”

“He’s not going to stop,”Eden continued, unaware of the war waging inside my head. “And I can’t go back to living in fear. I can’t. Not again.”

My heart skipped a beat, surprised she would turn to me, a rush of protectiveness surging through me. I looked at Mya, then at Eden. “It’s being handled already.”

Silas shook his head, his voice weak but firm. “No, I should be the one to?—”

“You’re in no condition to take on Darren,” I interrupted. “You’ve barely recovered from your punishment. Let me finish handling this.”

Silas stared at me, a mixture of frustration and acceptance in his eyes. He knew I was right. He nodded slowly. “Fine. But be careful, Sebastian. Darren is dangerous.”

“I know,” I said, feeling the familiar stir of him in the back of my mind. He was always there, I realized, lurking, ready to take over when things got rough. And this was definitely going to be rough.

I stood up, the decision made. “I’ll make sure Darren stays where he belongs. You focus on getting better.”

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