Page 37 of Dangerously Deceptive

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The waitfor the Church vote seems to take forever, and I just sit outside waiting. I don't know if I’m supposed to go and do my chores or not. But I meant what I said in there. I genuinely feel that if I stay here, if I have to be around my bitch of a mother, there’s a good chance she could ruin my pregnancy.

I don’t know how this turned into such a shitshow. Actually, I’m more surprised I wasn’t expecting one. Of course, getting what I wanted was never going to be an option for them, they have made me battle for everything I’ve ever wanted my entire life. Yet, I still walked into the trap. As soon as I heard them say Kellan was the dad, I was over the fucking moon. Everything I had spent the last few days praying for was finally coming true. I mean, that’s how bad things had gotten, I was praying. The nearest I’ve ever got to anything religious is the Church events arranged at the compound. By that, I mean, it’s usually a celebration of some variety, involves a lot of alcohol, and very limited real religious meanings. Hell, our Church is a massive room that women aren’t even allowed into. So, I’m not baptised, and I have no idea if I believe in God. But, ever since I found out about my little gummy bear, I’ve wanted to believe in something. To believe that they are watching out for us, and making things right. When I heard Kellan’s name, I thought there really must be someone setting things right in the world. Then the rug was pulled out from under me.

The large, wooden, intricately-carved door, featuring skulls and reapers with their scythes, swings open with a creak. Jamieson, with an unreadable mask on his face, walks over to me and holds out his hand for me. “Listen, Shay. I have literally got the best deal possible in there. So please, do not kick off. I know you won’t like it all, but it’s all I could do. You would be crazy not to take it,” he explains as he pulls me up and walks towards the door. I can see the pain in his eyes as he talks, and I just know there are going to be some aspects of this I will hate.

Once Whiskey is sat back into position, he wastes no time pulling me onto his knee so that I have a seat again. My little yelp of surprise seems to please the rest of the group. All they see is the stereotypical alpha male doing what he wants with his woman. What they don’t realise is Jamieson is so gentle, and he tries to tell me what’s going to happen without his words.

“Thank you for waiting, Shay. This required a bit of discussion, as we do not normally offer any sort of grace period, which is what you are asking for. We have obviously discussed how safe you would be here at the compound. Bane, as Sergeant-at-Arms, will update you on this,” the Pres starts, before looking over at Bane, who gives him a small nod of acknowledgement.

“We take the safety of all our pregnant women with the utmost seriousness. The incident that occurred this morning was against our ruling, and will be punished appropriately. However, we have acknowledged that even with our rulings in place, we cannot one hundred percent guarantee your safety over the next eight months here on the compound. You seem to draw the words out of people, and we couldn’t guarantee that a Lifer, after having too much to drink, might start on you for no reason. We can’t be there to protect you at all times, we can only punish effectively afterwards, and hope that acts as a deterrent.” Bane’s eyes look about as lifeless as his tone is. He appears to be reciting something he wrote in his head, and is focused on delivering the speech.

I know Jamieson told me to wait until the end and to not interrupt, but Bane has very clearly finished speaking, and I need to make my feelings clear. “That’s bullshit. It’s not enough.”

“Silence, Shayla. Let us finish,” Whiskey booms from beneath me, as he slams a hand down on the wooden desk. My body vibrates with the power behind his shouts, and I shake as his hand strikes the table. Looks like someone else is playing a role too. I guess I really do just have to listen and wait until the end.

“Thanks for that assessment, Bane. So, we have determined that your safety here at the compound would be compromised, which brought us into talking about your request for a sabbatical. To live with the outsider who knocked you up, until the day the baby is born, and you can then give full custody of the child over to him and you will willingly return to the compound, where you will be expected to stay. There will be no further freedom tasks. You will be a Reaper for life. So then we just needed to decide if we could let you leave for eight months and if you would return. Patch,” he explains, before pointing over at the guy who up until a few months ago I still knew as Uncle Patch. His face has the same blank mask everyone at the table has, with the exception of my father, who is sporting his usual manic smile.

“We did vote and we decided that if we allow you to leave for a sabbatical, there has to be some form of benefit for us. Most importantly, we have to be sure that you will return. As, if you don’t, it takes a lot of our time, effort, and supplies if we have to hunt you down and slaughter each and every one of you as punishment.” He pauses, no doubt for dramatic effect, and given the way my hand begins to quiver, it’s clearly working. The idea of anyone hurting me, Kellan, or especially our baby, is abhorrent. But I’ve always known these guys are capable of anything.

So, I do the one thing I know they hate me doing, and I ignore their threats. I hide my feelings, wearing the same mask everyone around the table has, and clearly it has the right effect. The Pres, the only one who is allowed to wear his heart on his sleeve, his face morphs into anger before he shouts for Patch to continue, which he does, albeit rather sheepishly.

“We have decided that we will allow this sabbatical, on the condition that we are compensated for our time, loss, and inconvenience. We have attempted over the last couple of days to do some research on this Kellan, but we can’t find anything. We did, however, manage to locate some information on Odin. If we have the right guy, which Whiskey here seems to think we have, then Odin is a very big deal. He is the go-to guy for technical cover-ups, which is I’m guessing how you ended up working with him. We know you paid him half a million, which was all of the money we agreed to give you to use towards the heist.

“We have also located a few possible other jobs that he has been involved in. But we have still been unable to decide on how much he is worth. So we came up with an alternative plan. You will be allowed to leave, to live with Odin, but you must assess him over the first two weeks. Find out how much you believe him to be worth, and then a more realistic figure of how much you can get from him. This figure has to be high enough that we believe it to be really what he’s worth, but also we are asking you to put a price on the life of your child. He will effectively be buying their guaranteed freedom, and according to you, we can’t put a price on that.” Each word feels sleazy, like it’s worming its way under my skin, and I hate every fucking part of this. The idea of finding out all about Kellan, then stealing from him and leaving him quite literally holding the baby just feels so wrong. Yet, I know, no matter how fucking sleazy or disgusting it is, I’m obviously going to go through with it.

When nobody begins to start talking, I hold my hand up, the universal sign of asking permission to speak, used in classrooms up and down the country. I’ve never felt like as much of a kid as I do right now.

Pres nods, giving me permission to speak. “Okay. But, if I do this, I need to have some kind of reassurance that there won’t be any fine print, or any typical Reaper bullshit that screws me over. I don’t want to tell you Kellan is worth a million, only for you to turn around and demand five, knowing full well it can’t be done and you have just won back both me and the baby. I cannot stress this badly enough, I need to know that the ties we break are for life. So, even if I have a boy, he will not be expected to patch in at thirteen. If he is raised never knowing a Reaper, then that’s brilliant. I need these assurances.” My voice sounds panicked and desperate, my speech fast, pleading. But it’s all true. I have seen them pull their fine print trick bullshit.

Pres doesn't even bother replying, instead he looks over at Little Bit, who answers my questions instead. “We will make the fine print to the contract perfectly obvious, but we take on board your comments. It will make clear that once the baby is out, that means it is out for good. However, if he ever approaches us, looking to learn about his past, or to become a Reaper, we will be obliged to let him be a Prospect. All Legacies get that chance, and we won’t deny that to him either, but only if he comes looking for us. We can assure you that we will not seek him out. Now, as for the money side of things, that’s slightly more complex. You will need to give us a figure. If we trust that figure, and we trust you, then we can make a promise not to add on any more than twenty percent. There may be some scenarios where we are happy with the amount you quote, and we will just take that, but other times we will require taking everything plus the extra amount. If, however, we feel at any point that you have lied to us about Odin’s worth, that will forfeit all of these negotiations. At which point we will be able to reclaim both yourself and the baby, as well as the money. We will also take out Odin on principle. Understand?”

All I can do is nod. They are asking me to steal from Kellan. To take away everything he has and all he’s worth, all so I can get the freedom my gummy bear deserves. I know if I were to talk to Kellan about this, he would agree with the plan, and would willingly donate all he has to ensure our baby gets its freedom and can live their life without any hassle, or the Reapers waiting in the wings for it.

“Is that everything?” I ask politely, thinking we have covered everything. But, the manic look my father has on his face becomes bigger.

“No, not yet. We have covered the child, the money you will owe to us to cover the child leaving and setting up a new life, but the one thing we have not finalised is you. Whilst we are grateful you are prepared to offer us money as compensation, it was voiced by quite a few members that they believed, even with this in place, and with the fear we no doubt have instilled in you about double-crossing us, some people still believe you will not return. They think you will have more incentive to stay with your baby, and this Odin guy, maybe even run away together, than you do to come back to us. It was voiced that you would run off, and go underground. Odin obviously has the resources to help make you, him, and the baby disappear. I need to make sure this will never happen,” he growls, making his feelings on the matter perfectly clear.

I have to admit, I never once considered doing a runner. Now that I think about it, I should have done it because he’s right. Kellan could have sorted us out with new identities and futures. I could have lived a life far away from these monsters. One where I would be allowed to see my child grow up. But there’s a reason it never even entered into my head, I knew it would never be possible. The Reapers will always want something, and they will never stop hounding and chasing me. So I never even considered it.

“I would never do that. I will come back. The freedom of my baby is so much more important to me,” I shout, leaning forward, as Jamieson pulls me back against him.

“Oh, I know that, Princess. But everyone else needs some convincing. Jamieson?” Everyone turns to look at the guy beneath me, and with a hand on either side of my body, he swizzles me around until I’m facing him. He looks so serious, yet there’s a fire in his eyes, and the ghost of a smile against his lips.

“Shayla, whilst I believe wholeheartedly that you will do anything at all to protect this baby, that is not enough to win the vote here at Church. Some of the guys feel there has to be something, anything, to make you want to come back to us. Preferably something that doesn’t involve threats. I offered a solution that was agreed by the whole group and in order for this sabbatical to go ahead, there’s just one more requirement that you must agree to,” he explains, trying to take his time, looking around the room to make sure they are happy with the way he is delivering his portion of the speech. As that is exactly what is happening right now, Jamieson is reciting a pre-rehearsed speech, but I am listening intently. I can feel his heart racing, and he keeps taking deep breaths, like he’s trying to control his breathing. One of his hands is still resting against my back, but the other clasps with one of my hands, and I can feel his nerves, thanks to the sweat. Whatever this is, it’s not something Jamieson is looking forward to telling me.

“Get on with it, for fuck’s sake, Whiskey. We don’t have all day on this,” Pres shouts, and grumbles from all around the table fire in our direction.

Smithy brings order back to the table by telling everyone to shut up, before indicating to Jamieson that he should continue.

“Shayla, the condition is that you become my Old Lady. We talked about it before, and I know you said that if things turned out this way, and you were faced with life here in the compound, then you would want to do it as my Old Lady. I have never hidden how much I want to marry you. The guys have agreed that our marriage would definitely reassure them that you would return. What do you say?” he asks, and I give him a small smile. I should have known this was coming. But, I did mean every word I said to him. I wouldn’t be able to survive life with the Reapers without being by his side.

“Of course I will marry you when I return. You already know I agreed to that.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, Jamieson’s face drops.

“No, Shayla. The agreement is that you marry me now, before you leave. Then we will have that legal element to bring you back to me,” he explains, his thumb gently stroking the back of my hand in an attempt to soothe me.

I can't help but raise my voice, more in shock than anything else. “So you want me to marry you, and then go and live with another man for eight months, give birth to his baby, and then come back to live my life with you? Is that really what you are asking? Doesn’t that feel like a shitty start to a marriage? Like I would be cheating on you?”

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