Systematic Siege #4 (Siege Serial)

by N. Isabelle Blanco

  There’s no need to analyze why I’m so furious now. And yes it’s petty of me, possibly childless, but I can’t help but be hurt.

  I mean, come on. It’s not like I could’ve expected that he’d have waited for me seven years. Why the hell does the knowledge that he slept with Stephen’s current toy break my heart?

  Maybe because I spent the last several years being abused over and over, and Andrew was clearly out there still enjoying himself.

  I can’t begrudge him that, but the fury and possessiveness I feel continues to choke me. Doesn’t matter what I tell myself.

  “Mr. Drevlow!”

  Andrew doesn’t slow down one bit.

  Finn stares over his shoulder, then curses. “Stop. That’s Mr. Holtzman himself.”

  Cursing under his breath, Drew listens, and I’m shocked when he turns us back around to wait for the middle-aged man heading our way. “I have to speak with him. No choice.”

  Another part of the plan I wasn’t aware of.

  Hold on. My back straightens and it takes all my willpower to hide my surprise. I’ve only been back three days. But Andrew’s plan is too detailed to have been planned in that short span of time. I turn my head and find him staring at me. Just how long has he been putting all this together?

  “Mateo, please, stay with Lexi,” is all Andrew says before letting me go.

  I spin around, seeing my bodyguard standing behind us. Where the hell did he come from?

  “Finn,” Drew says. They both walk toward Mr. Holtzman, meeting him halfway.

  I spin around instantly, grateful. Need solitude. Mateo is quick on my heels as I head down the hall, but that’s fine.

  I have a way to lose him.

  “Ms. Berkman, where are you—”

  “This way.” A right turn puts us in front of yet another entrance back to the ballroom.

  71

  At the very end of it, I see the grand staircase leading up to the second floor.

  I lead us through the ballroom with single-minded focus, uncaring if people notice. Mateo follows me halfway up the stairs before speaking again. “Ms. Berkman, why are we heading to the second floor?”

  Because I’m hoping to find some privacy to get rid of you. “I’m sure there’s a more private bathroom away from the main party.” I slip my hand into my royal blue clutch, feeling around for the small pocket injector. Paul gave it to me months ago for protection. It looks like an insulin pen, but it’s really a tranquilizer.

  Yes. I know. Fucked up. Extreme. But I have the dosage set to only deliver a small amount. Considering Mateo’s size, I doubt he’ll be out for long.

  I just need to get away so I can have some privacy while I cry these ridiculous emotions out. My bodyguard isn’t going to give me any privacy. His boss wouldn’t allow it.

  Guess it makes sense why I’m willing to take such drastic measures to get what I want. When dealing with men that have enough power to limit your choice, you become just as callous as them to get your way.

  Mateo starts speaking behind me. I don’t pay attention, just speed up my movements, rushing us down a large hallway. He’s gaining on me, can feel it, is probably a second away from grabbing my arm to halt me.

  The gigantic hallway is empty, and nothing but statues and hung paintings seem to be around.

  Mateo grabs my arm.

  In a split second, I swing around and jam the tiny needle into his neck.

  The drug doesn’t hit right away, the dose is too low, but as his eyes widen, I see the haze start to cloud them.

  If I stay even a second longer, he’ll be able to grab and restrain me until he fully passes out.

  So I bolt.

  I hear him call out my name, but ignore it, turning sharply. Down another hallway and yet another turn.

  By now he must have passed out.

  Panting, I slow to a stop and begin checking door after door. They’re all locked, which actually surprises me although it shouldn’t.

  Of course most of the rooms would be closed off to guests. The Holtzman family actually lives here. I release the knob on the last door I tried and step back.

  A woman in a server’s uniform steps out of another room. She startles when she sees me. “Miss?”

  Fuck.

  Schooling my expression, I turn fully. “Just looking for the restroom.”

  She smiles at me. “The ones downstairs are that packed already?”

  I nod, smiling back.

  “Here.” She steps aside and holds open the door she just exited from. “This is a bathroom.”

  This time, the smile I give her is genuine and full of gratitude, I’m sure. I rush past her, heart racing, wondering where Mateo passed out and if she’ll walk in that direction and stumble upon him.

  She lets the door close behind her. I hurry over to the counter and drop my clutch on it, uncaring that all the contents spill out into the sink. Squeezing the edge of the counter, I stare into the mirror.

  Is it just me or do my gray eyes seem freakier than usual?

  Of course they do. I’ve gone certifiably crazy. Jesus Christ, did I really drug my two-hundred-something-pound bodyguard just to get away from him and have a moment to myself?

  “Who are you?” I can’t help but whisper at the frantic girl in the mirror.

  Fuck, I’m so heartbroken. Irrational. I haven’t been normal for a long time now, I know this, but this is different. It’s like Andrew’s fist is inside my chest, squeezing my heart, commanding it to react to everything about him.

  I can’t hate him for finding pleasure outside of me. Just because I couldn’t move on from him, because Stephen abused me and also took that from me, doesn’t mean I get to hate Drew for living his life.

  So why does it feel like I do?

  I cover my face with my hands, trying to bring my hair-trigger emotions back under control.

  The knob turns.

  Crap. I forgot to lock it.

  “A moment please!” I call, spinning to grab the door before it opens—

  It does, and the tall figure that fills the doorway makes me freeze.

  Smiling that pleased, good-natured smile of his, Asad steps inside. “There you are, beautiful girl. I couldn’t believe my luck when I saw you drug your bodyguard.”

  That look in his eyes.

  That smile.

  I know all of it. Saw that intent in the eyes of another man one too many times to mistake it.

  Stepping back, I growl at him. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

  Without looking behind him, he closes the door. “Lexi, is it? This will go much easier for you if you just let yourself enjoy it. I promise you, I am a giving lover. If you don’t fight me, I can make it feel amazing for you.”

  72

  “When are you going to stop drugging my son?”

  That voice reaches me from far away, barely recognizable in my mind.

  “You’re son? You mean mine.”

  The sound of my violently pounding heart fills my head. Rage. The emotion is so strong that I can almost hear it speaking to me.

  “Ronald, it’s been two weeks!”

  It’s those words that finally bring consciousness roaring to the full front.

  Two weeks.

  Two-fucking-weeks?

  My eyes fly open. It takes a while for my vision to focus enough for me to make out details.

  What the fuck did that asshole drug me with?

  The walls of my room come into view. It isn’t that that catches my attention. No. The two, huge men standing just inside the double-doors of my room are.

  Greg. Dominic. Two of my dad’s main bodyguards. They weren’t there that day on the porch . . .

  That day two weeks ago.

  She’s been gone that long.

  I’ll never find her.

  Everything I am revolts at that idea.

  I open my mouth but my throat is so dry I can’t form any words. Dominic glances over, black eyes widening as he realizes I’m awake. He tap
s Greg on the shoulder before heading over to the nightstand, where a pitcher of water and a glass are.

  When he approaches me with the half-full glass, I have no choice but to accept it. My throat is too dehydrated. Speaking will be impossible like this.

  Lexi has a two-week head start. She can be anywhere in the world by now. Especially with the nice sum of money I’m sure my father gave her.

  I know he’s responsible for this. Lexi and her mother didn’t have enough money on their own to get an entire two-story household moved overnight.

  Fuming, I chug the water down.

  Greg opens the door and leans out.

  My parents are out there. That’s what I heard.

  Immediately, I hand the glass over to Dominic. With a speed I shouldn’t possess, I throw my legs over the side of the bed.

  My mother rushes in first, tears in her eyes.

  Love her to death but I’m not focused on her. No. The smug piece of shit stepping into my room is the one I need to get at.

  Mom tries to throw her arms around me. I hold up a hand to stop her, eyes on Ronald Drevlow, the bag of garbage that sired me. “Where did you help them move to?”

  He simply shakes his head and turns to Greg. “As I predicted. His first thought upon waking up is her.” Turning to lean out the door, he calls out, “Roderick! Miles!”

  I recognize those two names.

  Pretty sure those were two of the assholes that helped my father drug me.

  To my still somewhat sluggish senses, everything around me seems to happen in slow motion.

  “Get her out of here,” Ronald orders Dominic.

  My head wipes around in time to see Dominic lifting my much smaller Mom off her feet. Mom kicks and screams, but he all but flies out the room with her.

  Roaring, I shoot off the bed, legs unsteady.

  Roderick, Greg, and Miles come at me, surrounding me, their strength unsurpassable. Especially with that fucking drug still pumping through my body. As one, they lift me off my feet and throw me on the bed.

  I try to lunge off but I’m not quick enough.

  “Fuck you, you bastard!” I yell at my father, struggling against them all. “You did this! You’re the reason she’s gone!”

  “Drew!” My mother screeches from the hallway.

  “I’ll kill you!” Thrashing in the bodyguards’ hold, I watch as Ronald approaches a table by the door. On it, is an entire case full of more syringes.

  He plucks one, a cold smile on his face.

  “I’ll kill you! I SWEAR ON EVERYTHING I AM, I WILL KILL YOU!” My voice breaks with the force of my roar. “I’ll kill you all!”

  “Ronald, leave my son alone!” My mother’s wail can barely be heard above my shouts.

  “Now, now. Evelyn, calm down, before I have to do this to you as well.” Ronald approaches the left side of my bed, where all three of his pathetic puppets are bearing down on me with all their weight.

  “Don’t you fucking touch her!” I’m so far gone that spit flies out of my mouth.

  Ronald’s lip curls up into a sneer. “Look at you. Like a rabid animal over that girl. That’s why I’m going to continue drugging you until you get it through your head that it’s over, boy.”

  I’m still vowing the bloodiest of vengeances on them all when the man I hate the most in the world—the man half responsible for me existing in it—leans down and jabs the needle back into my neck.

  73

  I’ve taken self-defense classes in the last few years. So, so many of them. And all the moves, all the openings, all the shots I can take, rush through my mind at top speed.

  Logically, I know I can fight back. That I have the skill to do so.

  But, emotionally, it takes me a few seconds too long.

  Asad reaches for me. His hot hands land on my arms.

  Finally—finally—I burst into action, screaming at the top of my lungs. I lift my knee to catch him wherever I can, but Asad throws his entire weight onto me, slamming my back into the marble counter behind me.

  I cry out from the pain, arms wailing.

  My elbow connects with the side of his face.

  A monstrous sound leaves him. Pain explodes through my scalp as he pulls my hair and whirls me around.

  I’m still fighting, kicking, screaming, unlike with Stephen. I won’t check out like I did with—

  Click.

  The barrel of a gun presses into the back of my head.

  All the fight leaves me. Instantly. Eyes wide, I stare at the reflection in the mirror, confirming what I felt.

  Asad smiles at me in the mirror, pressing the gun against my head harder. “There now. One hit, I’ll let you get away with”—he runs the fingers of his free hand down my back, toward the curve of my ass—“because you are so, so exquisite.” The same hand he just caressed me with drops down to just below my ass, fisting my skirt. “I must have you, and I prefer not to have to kill you while at it.”

  Fight back. Doesn’t matter. It’s better to die than to let another man rape you. I tell myself that over and over, but the truth is that Andrew’s face is once again at the forefront of my mind.

  And the thought of leaving this Earth now that we’re together again . . .

  “He’ll kill you,” I whisper, tears sliding down my cheeks.

  Asad laughs, shoving my skirt up my ass. “I’ll kill him before he gets to me, so let’s agree to a mutual fucking.”

  “Fuck you, you sick bastard. There’s nothing mutual about this.”

  “There can be.”

  My thong drops to my ankles.

  My eyes dart to the injector inside the sink. If only I could . . . Not with this gun to my head.

  The sound of Asad’s belt buckle pings through the bathroom. I close my eyes, cold metal against my head reminding me why I can’t fight.

  Then again, what’s to stop him from killing me after?

  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. If I hadn’t drugged Mateo, he’d be here. This wouldn’t be happening to me. “You don’t understand. Andrew will—”

  I’m slammed forward, face pressed against the mirror. At my back, Asad lays over me, growling, “Don’t you dare say his name again until I’m done.”

  The familiar sensation of being penetrated with no lubrication slams through me. I gasp, choking. He’s inside me. It’s hurting. God, it’s—

  The door slams open, hitting Asad.

  In the blink of an eye, he’s off me, and an unholy snarl rents the air.

  Legs failing me, I spin around, almost lifting myself onto the counter from the fear.

  Asad slams into the far left wall.

  The door is slammed closed next.

  A mad blur flies toward my rapist. A fist slams into his face.

  By the time I recognize it’s Andrew, he has Asad on the floor, his hands wrapped around his neck.

  And he’s squeezing. He’s squeezing down so hard that Asad’s tanned face is already turning blue.

  Stop him, my mind screams, but I’m frozen. He’s doing it. He’s killing a man for harming me, and he’s doing it right in front of me.

  Asad struggles to get his thumb into Andrew’s eye-socket.

  In a rage at the thought of Drew’s eye being hurt, I finally push away from the counter. Within seconds, I’m on the floor, fighting to get my hands around Asad’s wrists. His dark eyes bulge at the realization that I’m grabbing him.

  I’m holding his hands down.

  I’m helping Drew kill him.

  “Lexi, move away!” Drew growls, eyes flickering toward me.

  Holding Asad’s wrists to the floor, I look into those toffee-colored, dilated eyes. “No.” The only way for me to release this piece of shit is if Andrew releases him.

  If he lets him live, I let him live.

  But if Drew is going to end him for me, murder yet another man in my name . . .

  This time, I’m going to help him. I’ve never killed a man before but Drew isn’t doing this for me all on his own.

&nb
sp; Asad’s choked gasps taper off. Drew’s still looking into my eyes; I’m still looking into his. Neither one of us look away as the man below us loses consciousness.

  We’re continue looking into each other’s eyes long after Asad’s heart stops beating.

  “You should’ve let him go, Lexi.” Andrew’s panting, eyes tormented.

  “You should have, too,” I whisper.

  He jerks his head. “He was inside you.”

  “And you killed him for it,” my voice hushes out.

  “He . . . was . . . fucking . . . inside you!”

  “You saved me.” I let Asad’s wrists go, following Drew as he shoots to his feet. “This time around, you saved me.”

  About the Author

  N. Isabelle Blanco is the Amazon Bestselling Author of the Allure Series, the Need Series with K.I.Lynn, and many others. At the age of three, due to an odd fascination with studying her mother’s handwriting, she began to read and write. By the time she’d reached kindergarten, she had an extensive vocabulary and her obsession with words began to bleed into every aspect of her life.

  That is, until coffee came a long and took over everything else.

  Nowadays, N. spends most of her days surviving the crazy New York rush and arguing with her characters every ten minutes or so, all in the hopes of one day getting them under control.

  Teasers for all of N. Isabelle Blanco’s

  upcoming works are now up at

  www.nisabelleblanco.com

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