Page 10 of Thorns of Blood
He wasn’t impressed. “So what are you going to do to show your appreciation?”
Revulsion and hate curled in the pit of my stomach, but I wouldn’t show it. Not to him. Not to any man.
“Get rid of your mistress first.”
My husband’s gaze coasted to me in a twisted, disgusting way, and I knew deep down it was only a matter of time before he forced his will and himself on me. Again.
“What are you going to name her?” Santiago asked, changing the subject.
I looked at the baby in my arms, now peacefully asleep, cuddled into me like she instinctively knew she needed protection.
“Amara,” I said, although it seemed stupid to name her after the woman who gave her life. Maybe a very small part of me wanted to commemorate the woman who brought something—a tiny human being—that made me feel for the first time in years.
That day, I gave too much power over to Santiago. But I knew even then…
I was willing to condemn my soul to hell for her.
FOUR
LIANA
Present
The complex I had built to keep Amara safe stretched along the craggy coastline in the part of Venezuela that nobody cared about. The nearest town was Puerto La Cruz, where all our supplies came from, was miles away, and best of all, none of the locals bothered us.
The whole property was large, a gated piece of land with three buildings. Aside from the residence, one housed security personnel and the other stored our vehicles. The latter had a discreet tunnel system that led down to the ocean and held my emergency boats.
Hide in plain sight, Kian recommended.
After he rescued us, my plan was to leave the criminal world behind, keep myself on the straight and narrow, and have a somewhat normal life. I resorted to maid and housework in a resort to keep us alive. I even ran into Royce Ashford during my short-lived career.
But it didn’t work.
My temper was too short and my child’s health bills too expensive.
So I took matters into my own hands and I resorted to the only thing I knew: running a criminal empire.
My first step was reaching out to Kian Cortes.
Then theCasa Seguracompound was born, courtesy of Kian. He’d purchased a large plot of land in Venezuela for me, right under Santiago’s nose, while my husband and Kian’s brother searched the world for me.
Of course I had to promise Kian my alliance and allegiance for funds to kickstart my own “business” and a compound that would keep Amara and me safe. He came through, and from that day forward, I began becoming my mother.
Maybe I was paranoid, but after years of being held against my will, I had no intention of ever being taken prisoner again. I almost died when I fought my captors. I almost died when I took it in silence. There was no winning with them. But I would never be silent again.
Shaking my gloomy thoughts away, I focused on the here and now.
My daughter was safe and alive, but the machines surrounding her, constantly beeping, were a countdown to the inevitable.
I took in Amara’s frail body, wrapped in blankets, and made my way outside for some fresh air. Her sickness made her too tired to go out and play, so we made this into our routine.
Every day, I’d take her to the cliffs where she’d stare out to the sea greedily.
She would often say we lived in heaven, not even realizing she’d met the devil himself and had no memory of the day she was brought to me. She’d tasted hell, and there’d be no way we’d ever go back to it. She deserved better. She deserved the whole fucking world.
The weather was warm, but Amara still shuddered in my arms as I brought her closer to my chest. As I paced up and down the length of the worn path on the top of the cliff, I realized I might be running out of options. The girl needed a liver and there was only one immediate and guaranteed match that I could think of.
Her birth mother.
