Page 24 of What Lies Within

Although I need to be free of the binds first, and last I checked, zip-ties were pretty damn bombproof.

Fuck.

“You’re quiet,” Fox bitches from somewhere behind me and to the left.Not him who’s seated, then.

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

He sighs. “Not if it means you’re scheming.” Footfalls, and then, “It won’t matter shit,” right beside my goddamn ear. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere until I say you are.”

Again, with the hints that he doesn't plan to kill me. I need to hold onto that if I'm to keep my fucking sanity through this.

“What’s the plan then?” I aim for bold—direct. “I really can’t see how I’m any use to you. If you want your place in the club back, you won’t get that by pissin’ off Daddy.” I fucking know it’s not his end game, but playing dumb has been a cornerstone of women’s manipulation for decades.

“You think I want back in that elitist fuckin’ group?” He scoffs. “Jesus, girl. How much Kool-Aid you drink every mornin’?”

“Why else would a cockroach like you crawl out of the fucking woodwork?”

The blow to my chin comes hard and unexpected. My head snaps back on a whimper, and I tumble to my side, neck smarting and blood pooling in my mouth from where I’m pretty sure I bit my tongue. Pretty goddamn sure that was his fucking boot, too.

“Not so smart-mouthed now, are you?”

I spit the blood to the floor and lick my lips clear. “Learned from the best.”

"Fucking whore," he mutters, moving away.Original.

The changing tone of his footsteps indicates that he moves behind something. A kitchen island? Furniture?

“Want me back ‘ere in the morning?” Ronan asks from where I’d located the chair.

"Sure." The glug of liquid follows the clink of glassware.

“Take it easy on that shite,” Terry’s cleaner urges. “Best you keep a clear head for this.”

“You tellin’ me how to control my own family?”

The unnatural stillness from Ronan's direction has me on edge. The man has a reputation for a reason. He's not the guy you casually insult or fuck around with.

Sure enough, measured footsteps pass where I continue to spit blood-infused saliva to the floor and stop a short distance behind me. "You want to continue to do this? Ain't any skin off my nose," Ronan warns. "But you fuck it up, and there won't be anyone at your back. You'll be searchin' for an ally, and all you'll fuckin' find will be enemies." He drops a mocking laugh. "Only reason Terry lets you entertain this fuckin' idea is the chance he'll get that fuckin' lot on Plymouth. Lose that, and you lose his favor." He pauses, a scuff of a step telling me he moves closer before adding. "You lose that; you get me. And not in a good way."

“I’m fucking terrified,” Fox snaps, yet the tremor to his words betrays his intended sarcasm.

“Aye.” Ronan moves in front of me once more. “You should be.”

His hand connects with my head, gentle and affectionate. The touch is so unexpected that I curl in on myself where I still lie on my side, knees to my chest to protect my vulnerable area.

"Eh, easy now." His words are close, as though he bends over my position. "Let's get you upright again, yeah?" He shoves a hand beneath me, effortlessly lifting me and coaxing me to sit once more. "Here." His clothes rustle, shoes scraping the floorboards, and then his thumb is on my fucking face.

Wiping away the blood.

“Much better. Am I right?” A pop sounds as though hesucked his fucking thumb clean.

I nod, unsure what the fuck I’d say even if I wanted to speak.

“Get the girl something to drink,” Ronan barks over my head. “You’re keepin’ her hostage, not trying to make ‘er suffer.”

"Says you," Fox mutters, moving around what I'm now relatively sure is a kitchen. "Here." The sound of a glass connecting with a counter resonates around the room. "Do it yourself."

Ten square feet? Maybe less?Definitely empty.

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