Deceit (The Clans Book 4)

by Elizabeth Knox

  ***

  Hours pass before the door opens again, the only difference is that I’m about five minutes into a crying fit. It happens every night whenever I can see the moon through the small window, reminding me that I’ve gone through another day of this agony. I miss my family. I miss my home. I miss Isa.

  The stomping of his feet tell me that it’s Mao, and my thoughts are confirmed when he bends down to look at me, his hand grazing across the torn side of my face. He places a small box on the concrete and opens it, pulling out what looks to be an alcohol wipe. Opening it, he runs it across my jagged skin, and I hiss at the way it burns. The both of us maintain eye contact as he cleans me up, or tortures me. I’m not really sure which it is.

  For the first time since I’ve been here I grow some sort of backbone and look at Mao. I know that he understands English, and I know that Cheng had left earlier today. “He told me he is taking me away,” I murmur, looking up at him. “He said he’s putting me in some farm in China and that I’ll never see you again.” I’ve never played a trick like this on him, thinking that there’s no way in hell I’d be able to fool him. After today, I know that if I don’t at least try to get out of this place, I will end up dying here, and I don’t want that to happen. Even though the life I may now live is unknown, it’s still a life that I want to live. Cheng might think he’s taken everything from me, but he hasn’t taken my will to survive.

  I’m a Funar. What I’m not is a weak bitch.

  Since I know my family won’t save me, it’s about damn time that I learn to save myself.

  He looks at me and then to the door. “No. He will kill you. There is no farm.” His accent is so thick that I can barely understand him, but I take note at the way he looks at the door, almost signaling me to open it. He lowers his voice before continuing, “He has made his point with you. Go,”

  I stare at him, blinking my eyes.

  “Go before I change my mind.” I shoot up onto both feet, pain skyrocketing from my leg up my entire body. I want to sit back down, but I know that this is the only chance I will ever get, and I’m taking it. I make my way to the door, opening it slowly so that it doesn’t make much noise. I haven’t seen outside this room in weeks, almost forgetting what it looks like. Thankfully, it’s still the dead of night and most of his minions are asleep. I only ever hear a few up and around during these hours. I slide through the door and look for the closest opening, seeing the garage door bay on the far side and a light on it. Shit. They’ll be able to see me if I go out through there. I know he has security watching the warehouse, so I have to be smart.

  Scanning the area, my eyes dart from door to door, looking for anything that will spark my memory.

  That’s when I see it! A side door that leads outside, there is a small bit of light shining on the other side, but I know I can make it. I have to make it!

  I begin my trek, walking slowly as I bite my lip to keep myself from whimpering. I don’t want anyone to be able to hear me. It’s now that it hits me I’m naked. I’ve been naked for so long I’m used to it. I don’t care if I’m naked and running the streets of Los Angeles, I really don’t give a damn. The first goal is to get out of this warehouse, second is to have a way to call my brother, and the third is to get some clothes.

  I make it over to the door, hearing and seeing no one in sight. I place my hand on the door and rip it open, running with all of the life left inside of me, making sure that I’m staying in the darkest areas possible.

  BOOM.

  A gunshot is fired, and I know instantly that I’m caught, they know what I’m doing and they’re going to kill me. Somehow, someway my body keeps moving. My legs dart out one in front of the other even with the sounds of multiple shots being fired. I know that I need to move. I have to. There is no other choice.

  More and more shots are being fired behind me, unable to keep the screams in, I let them loose. I’m damn well terrified right now, more scared than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I run straight through the open gap where the delivery trucks would come in at, hearing Chinese being screamed behind me, but suddenly it stops, and when I turn around I see a body on the ground.

  That’s when it hits me.

  I’m not alone.

  Someone is here, watching out for me.

  Instantly, I doubt it’s my father, knowing that if he wanted me home, he would have made sure I was ages ago. I shake my head, running into the streets until I find a safe place to hide. It’s not much, but a small ally behind what looks to be a bar. I run and I run, getting a few whistles in the process. This is L.A. after all, I’m sure most have seen worse. I position myself behind a dumpster, shielding myself from being exposed and doing my best to hide in case they come looking for me.

  “I’m not supposed to be doing this,” a man says, tossing something at me and throwing a phone in my direction. “If anyone asks, you did this on your own. No one helped you. Someone gave you a phone, and you called your brother. You found this shirt in the damn dumpster, understand?” I nod my shockingly nervous head up at the man who’s come into my view.

  “Who are you?” I ask, needing to know who this guardian angel is.

  “Can’t tell you that, sweetheart. Just know you have friends in many places, and remember your allies have people everywhere. The Steele’s are always watching, Aria. Know that they are your friends, friends to you and your...angel.”

  I listen to what he says, putting the pieces together as best as possible. He works for the Steeles, undoubtedly the Steele brothers. Notorious for being the largest gun runners in North America.

  I slide on the shirt he threw me as he disappears down the other end of the ally, unlocking the phone and calling the one person who can help me. Or rather, the one person I trust to help me. The phone rings and rings until I think that he’s not going to answer, only to have the line open up, with no greeting. “Marcel, it’s me. Please come get me. Dear God, please help!” I sob into the phone,

  “Jesus, Aria?!”

  I nod, tears flooding over my cheeks. “I’ll send you my location, please get here quick. I’m so scared, Marcel,” I confess and shoot my brother my exact location, praying he gets here before the Chinese do.

  Chapter Seven

  SALVATORE

  My phone buzzes loudly on my bedside table, ripping me from the sound sleep I was just in. Quickly, I rub my eyes and grab it from off the table. It’s now that I realize I don’t have the right phone. I own three phones, a burner for business with the Arcane, a personal for my family, and a third for associates to contact me. The phone I have for my associates is the one buzzing which can only mean one thing at this late hour. Or rather, I hope it only means one thing.

  “Yes,” I answer the phone coolly, not wanting any bullshit, needing to hear whatever it is that has happened. This must be about Aria. It has to be.

  “We were able to get her out without being seen, Sir,” the voice on the other end tells me. I don’t know who completed the job, and I don’t want to know. I just have to trust my friends’ people as well as my own the same.

  I nod in the darkness of my bedroom, “Did any harm come to her?”

  “No, Sir. She was able to flee on foot, and we followed her to an alley where she was able to obtain a cell phone and made a call. A short while later, a man in a Porsche came and picked her up. I believe this man to be one of her brothers, they look much like her. I had my men follow them, and she was taken back to the Funar estate.”

  “Tell me about her escape,” I instruct him, my heart beating heavily in my chest as I wait.

  “I don’t have all of the information, Sir. However, it seems that Miss. Funar was able to get out mostly on her own. There was a gunshot before the men saw her running out of the docks. At that point, our silencers were on, and snipers did whatever was needed to ensure her safety.”

  I don’t bother replying, knowing a grumble will suffice. The only thing that matters to me now is my knowledge that Aria is safe and that
I will be making the necessary steps to guarantee she becomes my wife. I promised Marcel, and I’m not a man who turns back on his promises. I hang up on the individual and make a call to Marcel, wanting to hear the information directly from him. Glancing over to the clock, I see that it’s a little past one in the morning.

  “You seem to get news quickly,” he comments lowly into the phone. No greetings needed. He knows the reason behind my call.

  I scoff, “Yes. You were the one who insisted I put your sister back on my radar. Now, do you mind telling me how she is?”

  Marcel takes a deep breath, “She’s alive, so there’s that I guess,”

  “What do you mean?” I stare out my window overlooking the lit-up Seattle cityscape.

  “She isn’t the same. Whatever they did to her really fucked her up. I grabbed her from the bar, she was...she is...someone I don’t think I recognize.” I roll my eyes at what he says. Of course, Aria is going to be different. We don’t even know the full extent of what she’s gone through.

  “She was with them for ages, doing god knows what to her. You need to give her time to readjust. Of course, she won’t be the same. How can she? She’s endured something traumatic no doubt,” I hiss out to him, my emotions getting the best of me. I’ve wanted her for years, and I know that the only way I will get her now is because Baptiste will deem her as useless. Only she isn’t, and she never will be. Old fool.

  Marcel chuckles lowly, “I was right to trust you with her. She will be well taken care of.”

  “There is never a doubt about that,” I say, rubbing my palm over my forehead.

  “You know what you have to do now,”

  “Yes,” I comment. I wonder if Baptiste will know I was privy to her situation, or if he will just think I’m the type of bastard who doesn’t give up. Either way it doesn’t matter much. I’ll have her one way or another. “I will have a courier deliver my terms to your father first thing this morning.”

  “He won’t reject your proposal this time, Salvatore.”

  “You sound so certain of that.” There is no such thing as undeniability. There is always a chance that Baptiste could reject me yet again, but the fact that Marcel seems to think he won’t tells me so much. It means that whatever Aria has been through is being shown to every member of her family, and that they want her gone. Truthfully, it sickens me. She’s gone through hell - literally, and they just want to be rid of her. It’s not like her depression will poison the rest of them. “I need to go make sure I have preparations in order. I’ll talk with you later,” I say to Marcel, ready to hang up the phone.

  “Thank you for everything you have done for her,”

  I grumble my response before I hang up.

  Chapter Eight

  ARIA

  Two weeks isn’t nearly enough time to fade back into some sort of sense of normalcy, and yet I try. Try my damndest to make sure I’m moving on and not staying stuck in the depths that I went through. Every night my dreams are haunting me of the awful things I went through, and every day I have to force a smile on my face and tell myself to snap out of it. I wanted to die while I was there. For so long I didn’t think anyone would be coming for me, and they didn’t. The only person I could rely on was myself, and somehow my will to live was stronger than wanting to end my life.

  I stare at the brick that plasters the wall of the clinic the mob uses. All known associates are to come here instead of anyone else, out of fear that another would report injuries to the police. Especially gunshot wounds. In this world we can’t trust anyone, not even our own families. He’s already taken my blood and conducted a urinalysis, even completed a physical. He instructed me to sit tight in this damn chair so that is what I am doing, following instructions like the good girl we all know I am to be.

  The door to the exam room flies open, and my doctor stares at me, “Aria, you are pregnant.” I could laugh, but I knew this was a possibility. I was never on any birth control because I was saving myself for my future husband, as I was supposed to do. What a joke that was. What a fucking joke.

  “Alright. Schedule me for an abortion,” I say, hopping off the table. I grab my purse off of the chair. As I turn back, I see the disapproving look that spreads across his face. “What’s the matter?” My tone comes out saltier than I intend, but I’m pissed. Obviously there’s some sort of problem here.

  “I can’t just schedule you for an abortion.”

  I pull my purse up my shoulder and stare at him, crossing my arms. “Why’s that?”

  “You need approval from your father before I can do such a thing, because you are unwed...I must have approval from him. It is a sacred rule that I cannot break.”

  I scoff, not giving a damn. This is ludicrous. It’s twenty-nineteen. No one should be in charge on what happens to my body besides me. I went through hell and back, and my physician wants to obtain approval from my father to abort this…demon spawn. I’m sure some will judge me for saying that. I can’t blame them for wanting to, but that’s what this thing is inside me. It’s the offspring of men who chose to hit and rape a woman for weeks and weeks on end. Made from purely evil actions. My body betrayed me, and here I am, pregnant with this thing inside me. I just want it to go away, to blink my eyes and hope it will disappear into thin air, but I know better. The only way I can be rid of it is when a physician completes the procedure, and it will happen. One way or another, I will make sure that it does, even if that means going to someone who doesn’t work with the mob.

  I may just have to go to someone who we don’t trust, but it’s better than the alternative. To do nothing and stare into the face of a child every day who I resent, not because of it…but because of how it was created. I would be a shit mother, and I know that.

  I want to be a mother someday, but that day is not today. Not like this. When I have a child it will be conceived out of love, its father being there for me in every sense of the word.

  I nod once, showing the doctor that I understand what he’s saying. “Thanks,” I murmur, not truly meaning what I say. I just need to get out of here and make some calls and that’s exactly what I do. As soon as I’m out on the street I make a few phone calls until I can find someone who is willing to perform an abortion. I schedule it for as soon as possible. I feel sick, like there is some parasitic worm growing inside of me. I can’t bare to look in the mirror or even think about it…I just want it to go away, and soon it will.

  Maybe tomorrow I may be able to live with myself.

  Chapter Nine

  ARIA

  It’s been a week since I was told that I’d need my father’s permission to have my abortion. I thought that getting one from another doctor would be plain and simple, but unfortunately it isn’t. Over the last few days I feel a bit different. I don’t always feel like I’m callous or rude, instead I’m enjoying the sun on my skin and the smells in the air. For the first time in a very long time, I’m starting to feel like a small semblance of myself before I was abducted. Is it wrong of me to feel this way? It quite possibly could be. Maybe it makes me an awful person, cold hearted, I can go on and on at what the bystanders might say. But I can actually eat, I physically want to get up out of my bed every day and face the world. Truthfully, I didn’t know if I’d be able to do that anymore. For a bit, it didn’t feel like I’d have the strength to, only wanting to stay in my bed wrapped up in my comforter. I will say that being taken has changed me, maybe a little bit for the good and most for the bad...however it’s made me stronger in a way that I could never comprehend. While the lessons I went through were horrific...I think that I needed to see how the world really works. At the end of the day, the only person you can ever depend on is yourself and before this ordeal I had no idea about that. I thought my father would always be around to save me, or even my brothers, but I’ve never been more wrong in my life. The only person truly there for me is the one who I stare at in the mirror every morning - myself.

  It’s just past eight in the morning, and my fa
ther asked me to meet him at the office, which is a little odd considering he hasn’t even wanted to look my way since I’ve been home, and he’s barely spoken a word to me. I know something is up. I just don’t know what at this point, but I have a feeling that when I walk into the office I will.

  I stop at the coffee shop just two blocks away and order a caramel macchiato to enjoy on my walk. It’s broad daylight in L.A., and I feel safe. I’m betting the glock in my Michael Kors bag is helping me feel a tad bit more safe. Marcel insisted that I start carrying one, and I’m glad that he did. He’s right, and it does make me feel more safe. Plus, whoever the asshole is who tries to fuck with me has another thing coming. Vengeance on my Mind by G-Eazy blasts through my headphones. I can’t help but resonate with the lyrics.

  I continue my walk until I’m right outside of my father’s building. Quickly, I make my way inside, walk past security and go up the elevator to the fiftieth floor. As soon as I exit the elevator, my red flags are darting up. He’s in the conference room with a group of men sitting at the table. I know there are at least three lawyers, seeing their laptops and notepads next to them. It’s always been a dead give away. Slowly, I make my trek towards the conference room, my gut telling me that’s where I need to be. My father sits at the head of the table, and there is a man to his right, a lawyer sitting by his side. Another lawyer is next to my father, and there is a third at the opposite end of the table with no one sitting next to him, showing me that I’m not the only one who’s late to this charade.

  “Father,” I greet, approaching him, I take the seat that is free. Next to me is the man with a lawyer on his other side. He seems oddly familiar, almost like I know him. It’s a bit damming sitting next to him, he’s all sorts of dark and handsome. Dark chocolate hair runs to the back of his neck in that business sense style with matching facial hair. His stubble runs along to his chin and accents a thick mustache. Not something I’m usually into, but on him, it works. You can tell that he’s the type of man who displays power, especially when you take in the length of him and his matching Armani suit.