by Ella Miles
The plane lands after several hours, forcing my thoughts from Kai back to figuring out a way to take down Milo Wallace.
I’m led off the plane, but I don’t see Milo anywhere. I’m thrown into the backseat of a car this time, instead of a trunk, and a hood is tied over my head. I growl, not because of the darkness but because not being able to see will affect my ability to find Milo’s weaknesses. I won’t know the path to his mansion. I won’t know how many guards stand outside or what security system he uses or where the cameras face.
Milo won’t let his team remove the hood until I’m locked inside. I know because it is what I would do if I was holding someone prisoner.
By the time the car stops, I’m exhausted from traveling. My arms ache from being tied behind me. My legs feel heavy from the steel weighing them down.
But it doesn’t stop my determination to find a way to destroy this man and keep Kai safe.
The hood isn’t removed when we stop. Instead, I’m pulled from the car and walked into the house.
I try to make a move to shake the hood off, but the men are prepared for my sudden flailing and hold it firmly on top of my head. I know I won’t be feeling the warmth of the sun for a long time.
I counted the turns as we drove from the airport to the house. There are only six turns. But that doesn’t do me a lot of good when I don’t know which street to turn on.
And I do the same with my steps. Fifteen steps from the doorway before we turn left. Twenty-three steps until we turn right. Four steps until we hit a door. The door is thick and creaky from the force required to open it and the slamming sound it makes when it’s shut. Twelve steps down, the fourth and tenth both make creaking noises when stepped on.
I feel the light through the house as I walk until I hit the stairs. Each step gets darker and darker. And once I hit the last step, I know where I am. Underground where there are no windows and no lights on.
I see the glow of light to my right and suspect that one of the men leading me has turned the flash on his phone on to see where we are going.
Eight steps until we stop again. I hear the cling of a key go into a door and then it opens.
My hood is finally removed as I’m pushed inside the cell—one with bars and everything. The floor is made of concrete. There is a toilet in the corner, a tattered mattress with a pillow and thin blanket, and a hose for water in the corner. For most people this would be their hell, but it’s nicer than the rooms my father kept me in. It has all the basic necessities.
I step inside, but the ropes and chains aren’t removed.
And the door doesn’t close. Which means the men are waiting for something. And I have a feeling I know what that is.
I hear the footsteps of his boots. I examine my surroundings for any sort of weapon. But the best weapon is my own boot and the concrete walls and floor. Everything can be used as a weapon. You don’t need a knife or gun to take down your enemy. You don’t need your hands or feet. You need determination and the will to never give up. No matter how bloodied, beaten, or pained you are. You never give up.
My father drilled that into me so many times I will never forget it. My body doesn’t have a choice but to fight. I don’t stop, even if I want to. And Milo Wallace is about to figure out just how big of a mistake it is to step into my cell.
“Leave us,” I hear his voice behind me, but I don’t turn around. My toes dig into my shoes, gripping them trying to calm myself. I’m supposed to be on Milo’s side. I’m supposed to show him how willing I am to do whatever he wants. Instead, I want to murder him.
The men slowly walk up the stairs, and I hear the loud clank of the door shutting and locking as Milo enters.
“You and I have some unfinished business,” Milo says.
I don’t react. I don’t give him any clues of how I’m going to respond. He thinks he has the advantage because my arms are tied behind my back, and my legs are weighed down. He thinks he could easily get me to stop attacking because of the knives on his body or the gun he could aim at my head.
He’s wrong.
None of those things will stop me once I start. Only death will stop me.
Closer, closer, closer he steps.
The sound is faint against the concrete, but I know exactly how far behind me he stands. Close enough I could elbow him in the nose and get a quick kick to the groin in before he can recover.
Restraint, I wait. I won’t make the first move. But he will. Even though it’s not a fair fight. Even though I’m tied up and he’s free. Even though he’s facing my back instead of my face like a man.
I grin.
Milo is evil. He was taught how to fight by getting the upper hand. I was taught to fight after I had already lost.
He swings, his shadow confirms it as I duck, turning to face him with a cocky glow in my eyes.
He narrows his gaze to hide his surprise in me ducking and missing his first hit.
“You should have kept your goons with you if you wanted to beat me to a pulp,” I say, smirking while trying to undo the knots holding my hands together.
Milo just chuckles lightly as he steps forward. He slowly rolls up the sleeves of his white, and most likely expensive, buttoned down shirt. Like rolling the sleeves up are going to prevent his blood from dripping all over it.
“I’m going to enjoy watching you bleed, boy.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Boy? Really? What are you? Fifty? I’m at least three years older than you.”
“You are going to feel like a boy when I’m through with you.” He throws another punch in my direction. This time more precise. Again I duck out of the way before he makes contact.
I see the anger etched in his face. His cheeks redden, the veins in his eyes darken, and the scowl on his face tenses. I know what he’s going to do and this time I let him. I don’t shy away from physical contact. Not when I know I’ll be able to get some good damage back.
He charges at me, wrapping his arms around me as he slams me into the wall behind. My fingers crunch against the concrete, but otherwise, I absorb the impact, keeping my head from hitting the wall. As long as I don’t let him get a good head slam into the concrete, I’ll win.
“When is the next game?” he pants.
I smile. “Think you are going to cause too much damage I won’t be able to fight against Kai?”
He punches me hard in the stomach. I tense my abs, trying to absorb the punch.
“When is it?” he growls.
“I don’t know. Archard, the man in charge of running the games, only gives us twenty-four hours notice before the game starts.”
Milo huffs, and I take the opportunity to knee him hard in the stomach as payback. It takes a lot of energy to lift my leg as the chains are heavy, but it’s well worth the energy when Milo doubles over and releases me.
My eyes seer with pleasure as I kick him again and again. “You should have tied my feet better if you didn’t want me to fight back.”
Milo takes a step back, trying to catch his breath again. This man may not have had my childhood, but he’s dealt with his fair share of blows before. It doesn’t take him long to recover.
“What is the next game?” he growls.
So that’s what this is. I realize after the second question. He wants answers. He wants assurance that I can give him my empire without him having to fight. And he wants to punish me as he does it.
Fine, I’ll enjoy extracting my own blood while we do business. Maybe it will take away from the pain in my chest.
He rams me again, this time my head coming dangerously close to slamming into the concrete wall.
“Don’t know. Each of our fathers took turns picking out a game. The next game was created by Kai’s father. So it will probably play to her strengths as did the first game,” I say, before headbutting him, breaking his nose.
I grin as it sits crooked on his face with blood gushing.
I’ve had my own nose broken dozens of times. It isn’t the most painful place to g
et hit, but it’s always a bruise to the ego since tears almost always come hand in hand with the gush of blood. You can’t stop it. The punch is too close to the tear ducts.
I smile wider when I see the tears. “Pussy. You had enough?”
He growls and spits blood out. “You think a broken nose is going to stop me?”
“No, I fucking hope it doesn’t, otherwise I’m giving my empire to a pussy.”
He runs at me again. I try to side-step him, but he’s more nimble since he isn’t shackled. He dives for my legs taking me down hard. My head hits the concrete floor causing a gash to my head. But I’m still conscious. Although, I’m sure it’s enough for a concussion.
“I’m not sure I picked the strongest after all,” he spits as he takes cheap shot after cheap shot to my face.
I growl before using my head against his again, knocking him back.
I don’t argue with him about whether he picked the strongest. I may be physically strong, but Kai is strong in a way I will never be. She is worthy. She is strong because she wants to be, not because her father taught her lesson after lesson.
“How many rounds are left?” he asks.
“We are tied one to one, first to three wins. If I win the next two games, I will become Black. I will own the entire empire.”
He stands, trying to kick me while I’m down, but I roll and quickly get to my feet.
“How do I know you will then turn your empire to me?”
“The contract Archard sent you. I had to name an heir. It has to be blood-related. Archard confirmed you and I share blood. I think we are long lost cousins or something. He didn’t say exactly how. Anyway, my heir has to be younger. One of the next generation, so to speak. So that means I technically made your future child my heir.”
He narrows his eyes, not liking my words.
I smirk. “I take it you haven’t had a child yet.”
“No.” He stops punching for a second, taking my words in. “And even if I did, I don’t want my child to be the heir. I want to rule.”
I nod. “Which is why you are the guardian of the heir until you have a child or one that is old enough to take over.”
“So you win, and then you just give me your empire?” he asks.
I crack my neck back and forth, loosening up as if I’m going to the gym and not beating the crap out of this guy.
“Yes and no. When I win, I will be made Black. You need to have a child before that happens. So that child becomes heir. But until that child is old enough, eighteen to be exact, you will be able to rule as his or her guardian.”
He frowns.
“You’ll have eighteen years to rule or get the rules of the empire changed.”
His frown lifts.
But I have one more piece he’s forgetting about. And I’m going to enjoy telling him. No matter who he stole, there is still the possibility he will lose it for himself.
“But there is one more thing. The change of rulers only occurs after the current ruler’s death.”
Milo smiles. “I’ll have no problem killing you when this is all over.”
I nod. “I know, but then you will have to have your heir compete against Kai’s heir for the honor of being Black. At least when the heirs both turn eighteen.”
Panic reads over his face even though there is no reason to panic.
“Another battle? You never said anything about another battle! After you win, I thought you could change the rules to make me Black fair and square.”
I shrug. “Don’t think an heir of yours could win?”
He grabs my throat and shoves me hard against the wall again. I feel the concrete digging into my scalp, slicing through like butter. This time I wince at the pain. I pushed him too far.
“An heir of mine could win.”
“Good, because I can’t change the most basic rule of how the Black empire runs, especially not in the few hours you are going to allow me to live after I become Black.”
He growls.
“Besides, I don’t think there will be another battle. I’m not even sure Kai truly has a chance to win this battle in the first place.”
He narrows his eyes. “Why not?”
“Because to win, you have to declare a blood heir—either your child or the child of a brother or sister or other direct relation. Kai has no family left other than her father. So that means she would have to have a child herself to make her heir.”
Kai has no family left because my family made it their mission to kill any Millers alive. So that this exact situation would eventually happen. So that the Rinaldi’s, my family, could claim the title of Black forever. It was a smart plan, except I’m surrendering the title to this madman before me who only shares a single drop of my blood.
Milo tightens his grip on my throat with every word that leaves my mouth. My head is pounding, and my breath is shaky.
“So she’ll have a child. I don’t understand why this helps me?”
I croak. “Loosen your grip, and I’ll tell you.”
He reluctantly does.
“Because Kai isn't capable of having a baby. No blood relation, no heir, no throne. You can only become Black if you have a direct relative who is of the next generation. There always has to be another leader ready and waiting to take over your place. To fight to become Black. And there has to be a guardian worthy of taking over as Black that the winner of the game declares.”
I can see Milo still doesn’t follow everything.
“I win. I become Black. I declare you as my immediate second in case of my untimely death. I make your child my heir. You kill me and become Black. The Miller bloodline ends with Kai. Which means you and your heir become rulers of Black forever.”
The bastard grins as he finally understands how he gets my title, my empire, and most likely, my girl.
I smirk. He can think he will get Kai. He won’t. I’ve put enough backup plans in place to ensure that will never happen.
“I can’t wait until I get to kill you,” Milo says.
“And I can’t wait until you join me in hell.”
I attack with my full force, driving my bloodied head into his chest, knocking him down hard. And then I don’t let up kicking.
He just chuckles though, and I hear the sound of footsteps nearing.
“Really? You truly won’t fight fair, will you?” I say getting one final kick in before his men storm the room. Two men restrain me as Milo gets up, spitting out blood.
Milo thinks he can hurt me. He thinks he can do damage. And I’m sure when he’s done, my body is going to be broken and covered in blood. It will be the last time he touches me though before the game. He wants me to be strong enough to fight against Kai and win quickly.
But Milo can’t hurt me. My heart belongs to Kai. To the woman who will soon find out the rest of the contract. She will find out she has to birth a child for a chance at winning. Something she knows in her heart she can’t do. I hope we are both wrong. I hope she can have a child and have her chance to fight to become Black. Maybe by then I’ll be able to find a way to kill this bastard without risking her.
It kills me to think she can’t have a child. That choice shouldn’t be taken from her by anyone. But not being able to produce an heir might be the one thing that saves her from this world.
5
Kai
“We need to attack now,” Liesel says.
“No, we need to wait until the next game. We need to wait to attack,” Langston says.
Liesel pouts her lips, sticking out her curvy hip like that is going to convince Langston. “Ever heard of the benefits of a surprise attack?”
Langston gets in her face. “Ever heard that it is overplayed and there is no such thing as a surprise when the enemy is expecting us to attack to get our leader back?”
Liesel rolls her eyes. “Every day that Enzo is with Milo is a day he is suffering. A day that will do untold damage to him. He doesn’t deserve that. We need to get him back, now!”
Lan
gston puffs his chest. “Enzo is strong. He spent his entire life suffering. I don't think a few days locked in a cell will hurt him.”
“He doesn’t deserve to have to deal with any suffering! Why don’t you realize that?”
“Because the worst that Milo will do to Enzo is lock him in a cage and deny him food. He won’t kill him. He won’t physically hurt him. Milo needs Enzo in order to take the Black empire. Enzo is safe! Possibly safer than all of us!”
I sigh as Westcott brings us coffee, but I’m hoping he laced it with alcohol because I’m going to need something stronger if I have to keep listening to both of them bicker.
“Will you two stop it?” I snap.
Langston growls.
Liesel huffs.
Their eyes intensely locked on each other. Their breathing hard and fast like they can’t decide if they want to kill or fuck each other.
I shake my head. Emotions have been high since Enzo was taken by Milo, but there is something else going on between the two of them. A past I’m not privy to.
“Either fuck each other and get it out of your systems or drop it, but I’m not dealing with you two arguing,” I say.
“He’s a prick and a manwhore. Just being in the same room with Langston puts me at risk for contracting an STD. I think I’ll pass,” Liesel says, walking over to the patio chair next to me and taking a seat.
