Page 37 of It Will Always Be You
An open door I’ll never exit.
Food that will never cross my lips.
A gun that will never enter my grip.
Freedom that will never be mine.
Or so he thinks.
Prior to my time here, I would have rolled my eyes at something so basic being a form of torture. But when you’re robbed of your basic rights, served scraps of often out-of-date food, it’s surprisingly effective. I’d do close to anything for even the smallest plate of the greasy food on offer or the luxury of having a bubble bath.
“As a treat for being such a good pet, I’ve decided to let you feed me. And if you’re lucky, I might even give you a taste. Now, come here,” he demands, taking a seat at the head of the table and patting his lap. I eye the table full of more food than one could possibly consume, and a small, dangerous kernel of hope unfurls in my gut before I can stomp it out—hope for a kindness that might not come, but maybe if I do what he wants, he’ll allow me a few bites. After all, he did say today was special…
Taking a deep breath, I shuffle closer to him. When I come to a stop at his side, he quirks an eyebrow at me in silent challenge. Swallowing my pride, I perch on his knee and pretend I can’t feel his eyes crawling over me.
“That’s my good pet,” he croons huskily, his enjoyment evident as he wraps an arm around my waist to pull me closer to him. The tips of his fingers brush against my mound, and it’s all I can do not to throw up on his shiny black loafers. That touch sets the tone for the rest of the meal. As I scoop up the food and feed him, his fingers dip ever closer to my entrance, and never once does he follow through on letting me have any. Once he’s had his fill, he uses his grip on my pussy to forcefully turn me so I’m straddling him.
“You like that, pet?” he taunts me as he plunges his fingers inside my dry channel. While I wish I could spit in his face and claw his eyes out, I can’t, not if I want to make it out of this alive. So instead, I shove how I truly feel into a box and nod my head, praying he’ll just think I’m too wrapped up in feeling good to speak. With a smirk, he reaches up with his other hand to twist my nipple. “I think it’s about time we pierce these. A pair of matching Ks dangling from these rosy tits would look perfect, don’t you think?”
The mere thought of him modifying my body to fit his sick desires has a scream fighting its way out. Biting it back to a whimper, I let him think what he wants as I pray to a God I don’t believe in anymore that this will be over soon, one way or another. There’s only so much one person can bear, and I’m fast approaching my end. Something needs to give before I do. Smirking at me, he reaches between us, his hands going for his belt. Ice trickles down my spine as dread settles into my bones. But before he can make good on his intentions, a sharp ringing stops him in his tracks. With a curse, he deposits me on the chair, muttering to himself as he ties the length of rope around the back of the chair.
“Fucking cock blocker cunt. What does she want?” Glaring at his phone screen, he paces the length of the kitchen as he picks up.
“What?” he snaps, crossing his arms over his chest as he stares at mine. “Now’s not a good time. Can’t this wait?” A pause. “Suspicious? Isn’t that what you’re there to stop?”
He scowls. “Well, get to work then. You know the drill. If Ciaran isn’t working, then move on to Jonathan. I don’t care what you have to do, just keep them busy. Pit them against each other if it comes to it.” Hearing Jonathan’s name coming out of Kyle’s mouth has me straining to hear more over my pounding heart, but as the person on the over end continues, he lets out a groan and leaves the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
Flicking my eyes around the kitchen for any clue to help unpack what I just heard proves futile. Bits and pieces of how I ended up here have glued themselves together, thanks to Angus’ big mouth, but never in my wildest dreams did I anticipate Kyle to have any kind of tie to Jonathan. Maybe it’s just a coincidence—it’s not like Ciaran or Jonathan have overly unique names, but given the context…
Jonathan might not be mine anymore—and he may never be again—but I’ll be damned if I don’t do everything I can to protect the father of my child, the only man to ever make me feel safe and treasured.
Little does Kyle know, his little phone call has relit the fire of determination inside me just as hope was slipping from my grasp.
Chapter 34
“Talk about a shitshow.” Shooting a glance at Seamus, I grunt in agreement. Angus going off the deep end, while not unexpected, is a ball ache I could do without right now. Between our daily dealings and watching out for Cora while ensuring there’s no ties linking me to her, this is the last thing I need. Cracking my neck to relieve some of the tension, I lead the way to collect our weapons.
“You can say that again,” I sigh as we collect our guns before making our way out to the car. The sooner we’re on our way out of Scotland, the better. Every second inside their compound, surrounded by mindless soldiers, is a second too long. The contrast between home and here is always glaringly obvious in the most unsettling way.
“What’s our next call of action?”
“We go home,” I answer wryly, knowing full well that’s not what he’s asking me. When a scoff is all the answer I get, I crack my neck before muttering, “And then we get to work. Things are heating up. Think Owen is ready to step up and earn his place?”
“I’ll make him ready.” His words hold more conviction than Ithink he truly has, but I let it drop for now. His son’s softheartedness isn’t high on my list of worries. After all, he’ll either shape up to be the man the Four Points needs, or he’ll be cut loose. After Angus’ outburst, my biggest concern is making sure he has no reason to suspect I have a daughter, because despite the code of honour that’s meant to exist, I don’t doubt for a second he would exploit her existence in a heartbeat. If one hair on her head is touched because of me, I’ll never forgive myself. Perhaps now’s the time to stop outsourcing her security and get someone I can trust instead.
Hours later, I’m still weighing my options as we pull up to the penthouse. With a gruff thanks, I make my way inside. I stride through the lobby as the answer comes to me in the form of an overheard conversation.
“Come on, man. You know I can beat your ass.” Glancing over at the commotion, I see one of our newest recruits stepping up to Owen. With a roll of his eyes, Owen pushes him back before clipping him around the back of the head.
“Bullshit. Liam Finlay trained me himself. You do know that asshole is a black belt?” His scoff is met with a protest from the new kid. With a fond shake of his head, he looks around the lobby, only to meet my gaze. He tips his chin in greeting, a lopsided smile on his face, but I’m already entering the lift with little more than a half wave.
Turning my attention back to the issue at hand, I mull over that name. Liam Finlay, one of three brothers, if memory serves. Never one for bringing trouble across my doorstep, and yet notorious for getting results. Quiet fucker. Big on not asking unnecessary questions. Perfect qualities for a guard.
Pulling out my phone, I shoot off a text to Jack to send them over. Entering the dark penthouse, I use muscle memory to make my way over to the drink cart. When the elevator dings with their arrival, I’m looking out at the city below. The sight of London twinkling below would be relaxing if it didn’t fill me with a sense of overwhelming responsibility. Without the Four Points’ careful rule, this city wouldbe nothing, and they don’t even know it.
“Jack said you wanted to see us, boss man?”
“What did I tell you, Cole? Shut the fuck up. Sorry about him, sir. He’s new to this,” Liam grunts, sounding frustrated with his younger brother. Biting back a smirk, I turn to face them. Liam has taken a couple of steps in front of his brothers, and if the dark scowl on his face is anything to go by, he’ll be ripping them a new one once we’re done here.
