Page 50 of Don't Say A Word

“She’s away at boarding school. Something I could never afford on my own.”

“I suppose she’s part of the reason you’re doing this.” Coldness creeps into her tone. “You need to provide for her and trading in women must pay well.”

I sit up in the bed, distancing myself from her before I end up doing something we both regret.

Before I beg her to forgive me.

Before I press my lips to hers hungrily.

“It’s not that simple,” I say. “You don’t understand. You haven’t lived my life.” That much is true. She hasn’t been exposed to what I have. She hasn’t doubted she would live to see the age of sixteen. She hasn’t wished for death as Senior ripped my innocence away and replaced it with something damaged and broken.

“And you haven’t lived mine,” she says. “The one that was taken from me. The one that is battered and bruised with the bite of Marcel’s belt.”

“I would never hurt you like that.”

But she keeps going, insisting that none of this would have happened if I wasn’t the one to keep her here. She is right. And it kills me. But there is nothing I can do. Senior wouldn’t hesitate to destroy me if I betray him. I am nothing without loyalty. Marcel’s right. I’m a guard dog, there’s no purpose to my being without a master. I would be beaten and discarded. But that’s not what scares me. What scares me is what they would do to her, what they would do to Everly. Once the Attertons want you there is no stopping them. People are nothing more than things. Things to be bought, traded and sold.

So I try to get through to her. To make her understand that I’m doing everything I can within the bounds of my power.

“It kills me to see you like this,” I say.

“Then let me go. Open that door and set me free.”

If only it were that simple. For a moment I consider telling her the truth of how powerful the Attertons are. Of how far their reach extends. How it’s not just her in danger but everyone and everything she loves, everything I love, if I let her go.

Instead, I just say, “I can’t,” as I stride toward the door.

“Ryker!” she calls, her voice filled with desperation and need.

It’s the first time she’s said my name.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

RYKER

Senior answers on the first ring. “How is everything going? I see you had a nice time at the bar the other day. Racked up quite the expense tab.”

I clear my throat, unsure how he’s going to respond to the news. I’m sitting at the monitors, watching Mia as she lies on the bed, unable to remove my gaze from the dark marks on her body. Her eyes dart around the room in fear as though she thinks Marcel is coming back to finish the job.

I get up and start to walk toward the stairs, away from listening ears. “Something has happened.”

Senior laughs as music plays in the background, the faint tinkling of fingers on ivory. “Something good, I hope.”

“Not exactly.” I’m outside, standing in the sun and I take a deep breath of air, hoping the freshness will wash away some of the tightness in my chest.

“I’m a busy man, Ryker, you know that better than anyone. Get to the point.” Senior knows I’m not one to usually skate around the issue, so already he’s on edge.

“She’s been hurt.” A horse and jockey race past, the horse’s footsteps thundering over the ground.

“How?” A door closes and the music in the background fades.

“Marcel.”

“Spit it out, Ryker.” He is getting frustrated. “Tell me everything.”

And so I do.

Senior stays quiet on the other end of the line as I talk. Occasionally he grunts or lets out a frustrated exhale of air, and when he speaks, his words are short and clipped, almost whispered. “How long will it take for her wounds to heal?”

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