Page 45 of Gilded Secrets

I’m dragged back into the moving car and the door slams. My stepfather leans over me and issues some kind of instructions to the driver. We swerve, speed up, and then grind to a halt.

My stepfather is so busy shoving me into the floorboard he doesn’t realize he’s left the gun he’s tucked into the waist of his pants within my reach.

I reach, aim, and fire. Glass shatters behind him as I throw open the cab door and dash inside a building. It’s grimly dark at first, but it’s the pounding of music and the stench of stale beer that makes me feel like my luck has turned.

And it’s empty. It must just be opening. My fingers tremble around the gun in my hand. I dodge behind the bar just as my stepfather rushes in behind me.

I fire off a round into the corner of the ceiling and hope I didn’t hit anyone.

Please. Please. Please.

“Missed, little prey, but now I know where you are.”

I can see him walking my way clutching his shoulder. The first bullet must have gone through him before entering the windshield. Too bad I missed his head.

My chest constricts impossibly tighter the closer he comes. He can’t touch me. Not again. He gets his hands on me and I’m dead and so is my baby. I know it.

I shove to my feet, aim down the barrel and this time I don’t stop firing until I can breathe in fresh air again. Bullets ping off metal and glass and bury inside cement. Maybe flesh.Hisflesh? I don’t know and I don’t look behind me to find out.

I throw open the door I ran through only a moment ago. And I’m stopped in my tracks. It’s like I run into a brick wall. Arms tighten around me.

Oh God, his guards.

I’m really dead now. I will die and the men will not even know they are going to be a father. We didn’t even get a chance to talk about all the details like whose child it really is. Do they care? Will they care later on?

I thrash against the hold on me and lash out swinging my arms.

“Let me go, you fucking bastards! I will not go down without a fight!” I seethe with vinegar and fire.

Hands grip my shoulders, my face, and a set of arms pin my legs together. I’m encased in muscle and unable to move.

“Stop,malyshka. Stop, woman. You will hurt yourself.”

I freeze. “Con? Bastian?”

“Da. It’s us.” Tears, relief, and fear all fight for dominance inside me.

“You can’t be here. He will kill you.”

I whirl around when the back door behind us bangs off the brick wall.

It’s Dante who surprises him. Knuckles meet flesh and I don’t look away as my stepfather falls to the floor clutching at what has to be broken ribs. Blood dribbles down his chin and Dante doesn’t let up pounding on him until he’s breathing heavily. And then Bastian takes over.

And I am not about to stop them. They look to me for confirmation and at that moment I know my men respect me.

I step out of Con’s arms. “How does it feel to be weak and unable to defend yourself, Vincent?”

Dante props him up on his knees. He leans his broken body against a dumpster, his dress shirt bloody and filthy.

Bastian leaves him to Dante who rips his shirt open and starts carving letters into his chest. I turn away unable to stomach the sight of blood on my lover’s hands because of me or the twisted smile on Vincent’s face.

Con takes my face in hand. “This is who we are. If you can’t look at us because of it, we understand. But we will take the stain of his blood for you and anyone else who dares hurt you. Do you understand?”

I lean into his touch. “It’s not that. I just don’t want to see the pleasure in his eyes. He gets off on torture. Even his own.”

Bastian comes up beside me and I take comfort in their warmth.

“Laila Romano, we couldn’t protect you as a child, but we can protect you from this day forward.”

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