Stolen by Truths: Truth or Lies Book 4

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Stolen by Truths: Truth or Lies Book 4 Page 9

by Ella Miles


  Her arms tremble from holding the heavy lamp up. She finally sets it down on the floor.

  Progress.

  I hear a noise in the hallway, and I know we don’t have much time.

  “I need you to take my hand or tell me that you can’t. And if you can’t, I will save you anyway,” I say.

  I watch her chest rise and fall. She has brown, almost black hair like Kai, but not quite as dark. Her body is thin, but her eyes look brown, unlike the piercing green-blue of Kai’s.

  This woman has only been here a few minutes, and Milo has already taken her strength and fire. She will live the rest of her life scared, looking over her shoulder, assuming every man is bad. Milo already took so much from her; he doesn’t get to take any more.

  “What is your name?” I try.

  “Ariel.”

  “Ariel, I need you to trust me. Can you take my hand?”

  She shakes her head.

  Fuck!

  Her body shakes along with her head. I really don’t want to hurt her.

  “Can I pick you up and take you somewhere safe?”

  She stops moving.

  The weight of the air is heavy, and I feel it on my chest. I need to save her so badly. I need to do something useful to make up for the pain I caused Kai.

  And then I see the spark of hope I need—her tiny head nods. Just once, but I know it was real.

  I approach her slowly, and she doesn’t retreat.

  “I’m going to lift you now. Close your eyes. And open them when I say you are safe,” I coddle.

  She closes her eyes, and I lift her tiny body into my arms. That was the easy part. Now I have to find a way out of here where she will be safe.

  I carry her to the door, and poke my head out. Felix spots me.

  “One of the maids left her keys in the car around back. The Fiat. Get her to the car. She’ll be able to drive out of here without being stopped,” Felix says.

  I glance down at the limp body in my arms, barely hanging on and all she has to do right now is keep breathing.

  “And what if she can’t drive herself?” I ask.

  He runs his hand through his hair. “Jesus. I’ll drive her. But if I do, I can’t come back.”

  Fuck, I need Felix here. I need a friend—but that’s selfish of me.

  “Let’s go,” I say, hoping I can figure out a way to get her out of here while keeping Felix here.

  We already disconnected the security system, so there are no cameras on us. But there are still guards.

  Felix leads us to the car without any issue. We don’t meet any guards. And the woman in my arms keeps her eyes closed, shutting herself down to prevent any pain that could come her way.

  I place her in the back of the small Fiat hatchback, lying her in the floor so she can’t be seen through the windows.

  “You are going to have to drive her,” I say.

  But then the door locks beep.

  We both crouch down behind the car.

  Footsteps approach but they are soft and light on gravel.

  “Have a great holiday,” a woman shouts.

  “I will! See you next week,” the woman approaching the car says.

  “Can we trust her not to turn the girl in once she discovers she’s in the back seat of her car?” I ask Felix.

  He nods. “If for no other reason than she would fear Milo would think she was one that helped her. I would guess she won’t come back to work next week; she’ll be too afraid.”

  I hate that I’m ending the maid’s income here and that she will need to find a new job, but she shouldn’t be working for a man like Milo. Nothing is stopping him from doing the same thing to her as he was planning to do to the girl in her backseat.

  So we slink back into the bushes as the maid drives away with her stowaway. We watch silently as she makes it through the gate, and then we both re-enter the house.

  Felix takes me back to my cell, hoping Milo will think the girl got away on her own.

  I don’t have the same hope that Felix has. I want Milo to find out. It will give me another excuse to fight him.

  Within the hour, I hear the familiar sound of Milo stomping down the stairs. I look up from the book I had been flipping through to try and distract me while I waited.

  He gets to the bars and stares at me with all of his furry.

  “What did you do?” he asks.

  I toss my book on the bed.

  “I don’t know what you mean. I’ve been working out and reading—my usual routine.”

  He studies me a moment, and I think maybe I’ve gotten away with it. But then he determines my guilt and carries out my sentence a second later by putting a bullet into my shoulder.

  I grit my teeth to keep from screaming at the sudden unexpected impact and collapse on my mattress. People say getting shot doesn’t hurt because it happens so fast; that it’s only the pain after the adrenaline has worn off that hurts. Those people are liars. Getting shot hurts. Not being able to fight back hurts worse.

  Slowly, I pull myself off the bed and walk to the bars to face him.

  “So that’s how it’s going to be. Just shoot me without giving me a chance to fight back.”

  “You set my whore free without giving me a chance to stop it.”

  “You don’t get to hurt women like that.”

  The change in Milo’s eyes is fast and sharp. I’ve only ever seen the look in my father’s eyes when he felt I wasn’t strong enough.

  How do Milo and my father share the same eyes?

  “I need an heir. I need to fuck a woman and get her pregnant. But since you took away my best option, I think I know the perfect candidate for the job,” Milo says.

  “You can’t touch Kai,” I say, throwing my body against the bars to try and reach Milo. But he calmly takes a step backward.

  “I think I will. She has strong hips. I’m sure they are big enough to bear my children.”

  “Don’t. Touch. Her.”

  Another shot. This time I only register the sound of the gun going off, not the sting in my other shoulder. I don’t feel the blood pooling or the throb of my muscles, because all I feel is anger toward Milo. And fear that he might actually take Kai.

  He grins. “How do you know I haven’t already?”

  He’s lying. He doesn’t have Kai. I can see behind his cocky grin. He wants to hurt me as I hurt him. He needs to get back at me for taking his woman.

  “What do you want, Milo? I’ll give it to you,” I say.

  “Nothing you can give. I’ll be taking Kai when I’m good and ready.”

  “And if you do, I’ll change the documents so your child is no longer my heir. You will never become Black if you take her. She can’t make you her heir.”

  Our eyes lock in an endless battle. I’ve never hated a man as much as I hate Milo. I hated my father. Hated him for what he made me do, but it was nothing compared to Milo. Although, I guess my father never lived long enough to threaten Kai’s life. But he would have. He ordered me to kill Kai. He would have made me follow through on that threat if he had lived.

  I sent my father to hell. And I plan on doing the same to Milo as soon as it is safe to.

  “Yes?” Milo snaps into the phone he decides to answer.

  But then he turns his back to me as he listens carefully to the conversation. His shoulders tense, his legs stop moving, and his face grows white.

  He ends the call and then turns back to me. And I know exactly who it was.

  “Archard called?” I ask.

  Milo’s eyes are wide, his lips tense, and his jaw set. He nods slowly.

  “When is the next game?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  He looks like I just told him he only has a few hours left to live.

  And then I remember, he just shot me in both of my shoulders. I need to be recovering, not fighting in whatever game tomorrow. I’m going to have to spend the next several hours on a plane flying back to Miami. I’m going to be in no shape to fight and win
. And it’s all Milo’s fault.

  His face is fear, matching my own. I should be happy he just ruined his chance of winning this game, but I’m not. Milo is unpredictable. There is no telling what he will do if I lose.

  And I can’t risk losing Kai.

  Tomorrow I will get to see her again. Tomorrow I will have to face the heartbreak. Tomorrow I will have to convince Milo he needs me and not her. Tomorrow…

  9

  Kai

  Enzo Black has saved so many women.

  Hundreds.

  All in desperate need of saving and no one to turn to but him.

  Most he’s saved since taking over the title of Black from his father, but even before his father died, Enzo was still saving women in secret.

  This was Enzo’s burden. He didn’t talk to anyone else about it. And unless he couldn’t handle it himself, he didn’t even get his crew involved. But every single woman that came to him for help, he saved.

  A tear rolls down my cheek as my heart hurts for Enzo. For the boy who lost his mother way too young—he couldn’t save her.

  For his childhood friend who was hurt way too young—he couldn’t save Liesel.

  Even the love of his life was taken—he couldn’t save me.

  Enzo couldn’t save any of the women he cared for and loved. But he could save all of the strangers who came to him in the dark.

  I flip through file after file of women he helped. Women who were running from abusers. Women who were taken and needed to be found. Women who were killed and needed avenging. Women who were broken and needed healing.

  He saved them all.

  He rescued them with weapons. Healed them by finding their families or paying for therapy. And sparked a new life in them by helping them find a job or career that could support them, even though none of the women needed the money. Enzo found every man who ever hurt them, and made them pay the women millions for the pain they caused them.

  I wipe the tear from my cheek. How could Enzo think he wasn’t anything but an angel?

  His father may have tried to turn him into a cruel bastard, but the good in Enzo resisted. Even as a child. And even now. Even when I pulled out the darkest part of him, he only fucked up for a moment before realizing his mistake.

  Enzo is human, but to so many women, he’s so much more. He’s their knight coming to rescue them when they have given up hope of anyone finding them.

  I lean back in my chair, trying to make sense of what needs to happen. I can’t be Black. But Enzo deserves to be.

  He has everything needed to be Black.

  Strength.

  Courage.

  And heart.

  If truly given all the power and resources, Enzo could turn the hundreds of women he’s saved into thousands.

  A rattle on the door stops my train of thought.

  I look up and see Langston standing in my doorway.

  I smile lightly and wipe the rest of my tears from my eyes as she steps into the office.

  He looks down at the files of women scattered all over the desk.

  “Did you know about this?” I ask.

  He nods. “Only Zeke and I knew.” Langston chuckles, shaking his head. “Enzo never wanted the world to see the goodness in him; he thought it was weakness. I guess you can thank his father for that twisted thinking.”

  I brush my hand over the last file.

  “We have to help him. Enzo deserves to be Black. The world needs him.”

  Langston nods. “The world would be better off with Enzo as Black over Milo.”

  “Then you will help me? You will help me make the trade?” I ask, meaning my life for Enzo’s.

  Langston rubs his neck as he paces in the small office. His eyes drift up as he studies a picture on the wall. Some sort of black and white abstract painting.

  Finally, Langston turns back to me, “I want to, Kai. I really want to. I need Enzo back as much as you do. I already lost Zeke; he made up one-third of who I am. Enzo made up the other third. I’m not whole without the two of them. I can’t bring Zeke back, but I can Enzo.”

  “Then help me.”

  His eyes tighten, and he bites his lip. “I can’t, stingray.”

  I frown. “Why not?”

  “Because Zeke would never forgive me.”

  I huff. “Zeke wouldn’t forgive you? Are you serious? Zeke would totally forgive you for saving Enzo.”

  Langston walks over to me and kneels in front of me on one leg. He looks so serious kneeling there.

  “Are you about to propose? Because I can save you some trouble-the only man I would ever marry is Enzo,” I tease, stroking his cheek. It’s rough from his stubble.

  He takes my hand, and I really don’t know what he’s doing.

  “I want to save Enzo, but not by losing you. I won’t trade you for him. Zeke wouldn’t forgive me. Enzo wouldn’t forgive me. I wouldn’t forgive me.”

  He kisses the back of my hand. “Zeke protected you, and it cost him his life. Enzo saved you, and it cost him his empire and possibly his life. I’m not going to let their sacrifices be for nothing. Which is what would happen if you save Enzo.”

  I frown. I can’t fight Milo, Enzo, and Langston at the same time. I need Langston on my side.

  “What if I don’t have to sacrifice myself to save Enzo?”

  He smiles sadly. “You know that’s the only way, and I’m not going to let that happen. I’d die before I let Milo or any man take you.”

  “I can’t let Enzo sacrifice for me. Zeke shouldn’t have. And I’m not going to let you die for me either.”

  “Is Enzo worthy of saving? Does the good he’s done absolve his sins?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s how we all feel about you, but even more so because your crimes are nothing compared to Enzo’s. And the good you could do, if given the chance, would triumph over anything Enzo is capable of.”

  “But I haven’t done any good.”

  “Oh, stingray, you have no idea what you have done. You healed a man so broken we all thought he couldn’t be saved. You made him love. And you gained the love and trust of Zeke and me, two men who have given up that idea completely. You showed us what true strength is. You should be Black. You.”

  “But I can’t—”

  His thumb brushes against my bottom lip, shutting me up. He looks up with his dreamy eyes. He really is an attractive man. And if I wasn’t so hung up on Enzo, I would give a man like Langston a chance. But I’m hopelessly Enzo’s, and Langston is nothing more than an overprotective brother to me.

  And despite his touch, I know he feels the same.

  “Let me worry about the rules. I’ll find you an heir. I don’t know how yet. But I’ll find some way. Some loophole in the rules. Or some person whose DNA matches yours. Or some technology that can help you have a child. This is how I will save you. Zeke and Enzo played their roles in your rise to power, let me find a way to help you.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. Three men. Three wonderful, powerful men. All willing to lay their lives down for me. All thinking I’m more worthy than them.

  What if I fail them?

  What if I do become Black?

  What if I’m not good enough?

  What if their sacrifices were for nothing?

  Langston exhales with a smile. “Stop worrying if you are worthy. The fact that you worry about being enough is what makes you the most worthy of us all.”

  I nod, unable to speak words. I know Langston will keep his promise, which means I have a chance at becoming Black. But at what cost? I can’t be Black if it means losing Enzo forever.

  “Miss Miller,” Archard says at the door, not bothering to knock.

  Langston stands but keeps his hand on my shoulder as if he’s become my shield protecting me from whatever words Archard has come here to speak.

  “Tomorrow is game day,” Archard says.

  Tomorrow. I get to see Enzo tomorrow. And it will most likely demolish what is left of my heart.
>
  I only have until tomorrow to figure out if I can save Enzo. And from the grip of the man standing next to me, I know it’s not possible. Langston won’t let me save Enzo, not this time. I will have to wait until the last game. By then, Enzo will know everything there is to know about Milo. By then, we will know exactly who our enemy is and how strong he is. By then, one of us will become Black, and we will have no choice but to fight against Milo, no matter the personal cost.

  I have to wait, until the last game. But what if I can’t wait?

  10

  Enzo

  I feel high—that’s how many painkillers I’m on.

  The doctors tug on my skin, but I don’t feel it. They’ve been working on my shoulders the entire flight to Miami. Removing bullet fragments, preventing infection, closing the wound, doing therapy on my shoulders to ensure I still have full range of motion, filling my body with more blood and painkillers to the point that I don’t feel any pain. I wouldn’t be surprised if Milo had them pump some performance-enhancing drug into my system to try and ensure I win.

  This isn’t like any other sporting competition. There will be no testing for drugs. No calls that I competed unfairly.

  And still, after all the work and drugs, I know I won’t win. Even if I was healthy, this game was designed by Kai’s father. He designed it for her to win. I’ll win the fourth game, which means it will come down to the fifth game. The one where neither of us will have an advantage because our fathers had to create it together.

  “You look like crap,” Milo says, staring at me on the makeshift hospital table as we land in Miami.

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t have shot me if you cared how I looked.”

  “Let’s go, we don’t want to be late.”

  I throw on a black T-shirt to cover my wounds, and I don't even feel the fabric brush my skin. I feel too good. I feel invincible. And all I want to do is attack Milo.

  We exit the plane and load into the back of one of the blacked out SUV’s, and then we head toward Surrender.

  Milo sits in the front of the car looking anxious. I don’t know why he needs me to win so badly. Why does he want my empire? It goes deeper than just our last interactions. This goes years deeper.

 

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