Page 35 of The Enforcer's Redemption

"What is it?"

"She's carrying the heir, Declan." He looks away, glaring at the window. "The word is, Isla is pregnant. Mick's heir, the entirereason for this alliance, to bind our families for eternity, is within reach and without her, without that baby…"

His words trail off, fading out like a whisp of smoke dissolving into thin air. Isla is pregnant? But that means it's my child. That she's pregnant with my baby and a potential heir to the O'Rourke throne. And what Mick must be going through knowing his oldest daughter is gone, taken like a commoner. And the whole time, Sebastian knew who Isla really is, and all he cares about is punishing her for making him look weak.

Ronan is right. This thing just got a hell of a lot more complex, and I can't even blame him for thinking about the alliance. Deep down, I know he cares about bringing her back, so whatever his motive for finding and rescuing her is, I'm going to side with him. My motive is personal—to ensure the woman I love is by my side for eternity. But if it benefits our family, so be it. At least my brothers are on board to fight.

"You know if it's true? If she's really pregnant?" Aiden's sources are rarely wrong. I don't know why I even doubt them. Or maybe I just need to hear it again to believe it.

"It's true." He nods curtly. "Now we have to assemble a team and get to the docks to stop that ship from leaving port, and we have to be careful. If they see us coming, there's no telling what they'll do or how many innocent people will die in the process."

The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I reach into the dresser and take out my gun. My wife and unborn child need me, and no one is going to stand in my way now. I will find her and I will bring her home, and I will prove to her once for all that right by my side is where she belongs.

And then I will kill Sebastian O’Reilly, if it's the last thing I do.

26

ISLA

The pulse of my heartbeat in my chest is steady but weak, and a little on the fast side. I lie curled in a ball watching a smattering of other women on the other side of the room huddled together talking quietly. I haven't eaten in four days. I'm starving, but I have no appetite. My entire body feels weak, like I've just finished a marathon or strongman contest. And I'm cold, shivering, and wishing for a blanket.

"She don't look too good," one of the women says. Her dirty skin and filthy clothes make her look like she just walked out of a coal mine, or maybe a garden digging in the soil. When she looks at me, her eyes seem to see through me, judging me silently.

"None of us look too good. Shut up." A younger woman comes to my defense, giving the first a shove. "You're alright, honey. Just rest. You'll need your energy when they move us."

I hate how they speak like they've been doing this long enough that they understand what is happening. It strips away my hope like dead skin after a sunburn, little by little whittling away at my will to live. I blink and hear my eyelids click against my eyes. Even when I sip water, it comes right back up. I know now thatit's not nerves. It's morning sickness. I'm slowly starving myself and my baby to death, and I can't think of a reason to change that.

"Yeah, well with the way they carry on about her, you know…" The first woman sneers at me and picks at her tooth with her tongue. The fact that they call me Princess isn’t my fault. I don’t even understand it. Sebastian is a horrible man, playing mind games with me, telling me I'm carrying the heir to the O'Connor family. He's not wrong. My baby will definitely be my da's pride and joy, but we don't have a kingdom to rule over. I'm not a princess.

"Shh, don't speak about her like that." Another woman shushes them and shakes her head, spitting on the floor and performing the sign of the cross on her forehead, chest, and shoulders. Such a superstitious action. I close my eyes to pretend I don't hear them. Even they feel like this is some conspiracy or something. It exhausts me.

"Well, for some reason they think she's special, and that isn't a good thing for her."

I press my palm to my ear and block out the sounds as I replay every decision I've ever made in my life over and over in my head. Regret sucks me into a spiral that traps me there behind my eyelids, and every time I open them, it gets worse. More women populate the room. There is less space, and the stench of unwashed bodies rises.

When the door swings open and boots clomp on the ground, I fully expect it to be more women being dumped. I open my eyes to see Sebastian standing over me with a smug grin. He's wearing a white suit, a wide-brimmed white hat with a black ribbon on it, and a matching black shirt. His black patent leathershoes look recently shined, and I wish I could conjure up some stomach acid just to vomit on them.

He crouches next to me and pushes the hair off my face. "How is the princess fairing?" he asks, and I squirm away from his touch. The women in this room are dead silent, but I hear them rustling around, also uncomfortable with his presence. "What, you don't like me?" He feigns innocence, and I search my mouth for moisture to spit on him but my mouth is bone dry. I'm far too dehydrated.

"You are the wife of my enemy, so I can't kill you. But it doesn't mean I can't sell you to get back what you stole from me." He remains crouching next to me, chuckling like a madman. Then says, "In a few days' time, you'll have a new home with lots of new friends and plenty of work. I hope you're in shape."

"Screw off," I snip weakly. It comes out in a ragged, scratchy tone I don't recognize, but it's my own voice. It draws gasps from some of the other women in the room who clearly would never stand up to a man like him. But I have nothing to live for. I can't imagine letting this baby I'm carrying come into the world like this. Who knows what they’ll do to him or her? And that cements my will to die.

"You have a temper, Princess, and it's going to get you in trouble." Sebastian stretches out his hand, and I push it away, but he's stronger than me. What appears to be another attempt to touch my hair turns into me guiding his hand toward my mouth where I bite down hard enough to draw blood.

"You cunt!" he screeches, then smacks me hard. I scramble as far away from him as I can on the filthy mattress, pressing my back to the wall. But Sebastian grabs my leg and pulls me back toward himself. Blood drips from his thumb as he wraps his thickfingers around my throat and squeezes. "You're damn lucky you walked down that aisle." His grip is so tight I'm seeing stars. I grab his wrist with both hands, trying to pry him away from my neck, but he is relentless, clamping down to the point that I can't breathe.

I gasp and choke, hearing the other women in the room also murmuring and gasping too. My eyes blink rapidly, filling with moisture that leaks out onto my cheeks and runs down onto the mattress under me. My chest screams for air as it burns and heaves to suck in a breath. I mouth the words, "Please stop," but the sadist won't let go of me. He only squeezes harder.

My eyes shut, and I pray they’ll never open.

A loud noise startles me awake, a hollow crash of metal on metal. I jerk upright and regret it. My head slams into something hard and makes me wince. It's pitch black. I can't see a thing, but I sense I'm not alone. The same murmuring of voices and the stench of filthy bodies meets my senses, and I reach out and grope in the darkness.

"Hey, there, watch it." A woman's voice greets me, her tone angry.

"Where am I? What's going on?" I say, still groping in the darkness. My hand finds another person, this one kinder. Their hands clasp onto mine and calm me.

"I told ye we were being moved, dear." The same younger woman who spoke kindly about me in that room is here. But where is here?

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