Bound By Blood: (The Betrayed Series Book 2)

by Victoria Renteria

  Bound By Blood

  Copyright © 2016, Victoria Renteria

  First Edition: 2016

  All rights reserved.

  Editing by Edee M. Fallon, Mad Spark Editing

  Cover art by Rebecca Pau at The Final Wrap

  Photography by Mandy Hollis

  Model: Randi Sue

  Interior book design and formatting by Champagne Formats

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may use short excerpts in a review

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales are entirely co-incidental.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademarked owners of various products and events referred in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission of trademark companies.

  The publication or use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owner.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Glossary Of Terms

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Other Books

  Glossary Of Terms

  Ttal – Korean word for daughter.

  Agassi – Korean term for young lady.

  Mamasan – Korean term that refers to the “boss” or “owner.

  Kkhangpae – South Korean Mafia or Street Gang

  Lopeu – Korean term for rope.

  Gidung or Namu Gidung – Korean term for wooden pole.

  Tenpro – In Korea is a very high end escort service that provides companionship.

  Todesbringer – German term for death bringer.

  Ataa Almawt – Arabic term for death bringer.

  Nesushchiy Smert’ – Russian term for death bringer.

  Portador De La Muerte – Spanish term for death bringer.

  Jug-eum ui buhwal – Korean term for death bringer.

  RAIN PELTS ME AS I enter the building. I’ve been away from her for too long. That itch to be near her hasn’t lessened in the time we’ve been together. Pressing the call button for the elevator, I smirk as I recall my conversation with Noah this morning.

  “Alpha?”

  “Yeah?”

  “That good, huh?”

  “What?”

  “Seriously, man? I’ve called you like five times, and you’re daydreaming.”

  “Shit, sorry,” I say, scrubbing a hand down the back of my neck.

  “So back to my original question. That good, huh?” Noah’s grin practically splits his face in two.

  Laughing, I reply, “Yeah, that good. Just wait until it happens to you, man.”

  “Unh unh. No way. I’m just fine single and playing the field, thank you very much.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Yep. I’m a love ’em and leave ’em kinda guy. Works better that way. We both get what we want and no stinking emotions involved.” Noah’s face pinches with disgust.

  Laughing, I slap him on the back. “Oh, kid. Just you wait. That shit’s gonna hit you hard and fast like a punch in the gut. You’re not gonna know what to do with it.”

  Shaking his head vehemently, he replies, “Nope. Not happening to this Don Juan.”

  “Ha, you keep telling yourself that, Casa-Noah.”

  The elevator dings and I get in, riding to the third floor, eager to see my girl. Pulse racing, heart hammering, blood pulsing excitement fills me as I open the door and step inside. Darkness greets me as I look around.

  My brows crease as I call out, “Goddess, I’m home.” Silence. Walking from room to room, I find each of them empty.

  “Fuck,” I grumble. Trudging up the stairs to the loft, I flip the switch, turning on the lights. Lying in the middle of the bed is a little box with a gold bow neatly tied on top. Off to the right of the box sits a sliver of paper folded in half. My heart gives a thud as I stride to the bed, scooping up the contents.

  My Dearest Alex,

  Words have never been a problem for me, yet as I find myself sitting down to write this letter to you, I’m at a loss. The words are there. However, I find they are just not adequate for what I truly feel for you or the fire you’ve awakened deep inside of me. Everywhere I turn, I see you. It’s as if your presence follows me even when you are not here. You are everything that I ever dreamed of and so much more. You are my savior, Alex, my saving grace. You are the light that shines brightly, taking away the darkness in my soul. And for the first time in my life, I feel alive . . . truly awakened and alive.

  Love forever and always,

  Your Goddess . . .

  Kylee

  P.S. The box is for you. It’s something small but meaningful. My father gave this puzzle ring to me when I was ten. He was stationed in Korea when he got it years ago. He told me it was a reminder that good always trumps evil. Sometimes good just has to work a little harder. I always felt like it was my good luck charm to ward off evil, and I want you to have it. I don’t need it anymore . . . I have you.

  Clutching the letter to my chest, I tilt my head back, squeezing my eyes shut. Her words wash over me, sending warmth racing through my body. Tightness grips me as my heart races wildly. Saving grace? She said I was her saving grace. Doesn’t she know she saved me? I’d built walls so high no one could climb them. I’d closed myself off to everyone except my brothers, never letting anyone in. Somehow she found a way in, turning my world upside down. Smiling, I give my head a shake. I wouldn’t change a damn thing.

  Opening the box, tears burn my eyes as I look at the men’s puzzle ring snuggled in the tissue paper. The traditional gold ring is old and worn, one she clearly cared for and loved over the years. With trembling fingers, I pick the ring up, locking the pieces in place before sliding it onto my finger. The fluttering in my stomach increases as I peer down at the ring. Visions of us exchanging vows and rings dance before me, seizing my breath.

  Kylee’s belly rounded, swollen with my child as we sit holding each other. Waking up every single day for the rest of my life next to her. The rightness of my visions hits me. For the first time in my life, I’m positive this is the right thing to do. We’re meant to be together—two halves of a whole. A smile slowly spreads across my face as I make my decision. Next week, the moment those papers are finalized, I’m asking Kylee to be my wife. It’s us all the way until the end.

  Buzzing on my hip brings me out of my mental reverie. Grabbing my pager, I look down and curse. Fuck.
We’ve been called out on a mission. Who knows how long it will take. Scribbling a note and grabbing a spare key, I grab my things and head out the door. Slipping the note and extra key under Kylee’s door, I smile as I walk to the elevator to head to base to be briefed.

  The entire ride to base, my mind is on Kylee, thinking of our future together and the life we’ll build. My mind conjures up visions of her in white and then immediately turns to me peeling her out of the dress, causing my dick to get hard. Giving my head a shake, I notice we’re arriving on base. Pulling out my ID, I’m waved through and push all thoughts of Kylee aside as I focus on my job at hand. Distractions kill. I’ve got something to live for . . . someone to live for. I can’t afford to be distracted, not that I could have before. My brothers mean too much to me.

  Marching into the brigade conference room, I’m stunned, halted in my tracks as I take in the amount of people huddled into our room. Brighton, Sam, Noah, and Cooper all share the same expression as I waltz in. Shit’s about to hit the fan. The last time this much brass was in a room . . . well, it was bad. Taking a seat next to Sam, I nudge him, asking, “Any idea what’s going on yet?”

  Grimacing, he shakes his head. “No, they were waiting for you. I’ve got a bad feeling about this, AJ.”

  A lance shoots straight through my chest, squeezing like a vice. Sam’s hunches are always spot on and nothing to scoff at. My stomach lurches at the thought. Colonel Black clears his throat, bringing the room to attention. Men file in, taking a seat around the table, all eyes zeroing in on the Colonel.

  “We’ve just received a tip about a kidnapping not more than an hour ago.”

  One of the brass speaks up, asking, “So this tip, can it be trusted?”

  “Yes,” Colonel Black replies, matter of fact.

  “Why are we getting involved? What makes this top priority? I mean, we’re dragging Delta into this.”

  Colonel Black’s eyes narrow to slits as he slides folders across the table to each one of us. “Because one of our Colonel’s daughters has been kidnapped, and we have reason to believe the local Kkangpae are involved. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let them get away with it.”

  A million tiny knots form in my stomach at his words. Grasping the folder with trembling fingers, I open the cover. Fighting a scream, I squeeze my eyes shut. The weight of the world descends on me, making it difficult to breathe. Saliva leaves a bitter taste in my mouth as I try swallowing back my nausea. Sam nudges me with his shoulder. My eyes meet his worried gaze as he mouths “Are you okay?” Unable to answer, I just shake my head.

  Okay? Hell no I’m not okay. My heart has just been ripped from my chest, stolen from me. Gold glints in the light as my fingers caress her face from the folder. Tiny pants saw in and out of my lungs, each one a shard of glass slicing me from the inside. Silently, I send up a prayer: God, please keep her safe until I get to her. Fuck, take me instead . . . please . . . take me instead. The top of my head brushes my arm as I glare at the folder in front of me. My soul screams, shattered and broken, split in two as my heart thumps wildly, willing to give out.

  Coaxing my mind out of the pain, I focus on the rage now burning deep within my soul. Gone. My Goddess is gone. Taken . . . and nothing will stand in my way of getting her back.

  SHROUDED IN DARKNESS, MY PAST begins to haunt my dreams. For a moment, it feels like reality, being strapped down and held captive while someone inspects you. Blinking my gritty eyes, I slowly come to, and the hazy room begins to come into focus. Swallowing roughly, I glance around the cramped space, taking in my surroundings. The unfamiliar room is dark and musty, reminding me of an old basement or a warehouse. Gasping, my eyes grow wide, panic setting in as I peer down at my immobile limbs shackled to a chair.

  I’m not sure how much time has passed since I was put here, but judging by the stiffness of my muscles, it’s been a while. Memories of being drugged and taken against my will start coming back little by little. Groaning, I look up to the ceiling. “You’re such an idiot, Kylee,” I mutter. My intuition was right. Something was off about Madame Lin. I should have known better than to go back to that place.

  Now, who knows what’s going to happen. I don’t even know what I’m doing here. Why would they want me, anyway?

  “Well, look who finally decided to wake up,” an unfamiliar voice sounds from the doorway.

  Squinting, I blink several times, trying to gain my bearings. The only light in the room is a small bulb swinging from a cord in the ceiling. It’s uncanny how much it looks like one of those dank, dark places you’d see in an action film. Shivering, my eyes dart to the unfamiliar voice still secluded in the shadows.

  “What, nothing to say?” the voice growls from the entrance. Now moving toward me, the voice continues taunting. “No need to speak just yet. We have ways of making you talk. Besides, there’s someone who wants to speak with you.”

  Words were spoken, yet I barely registered anything that was said over the fierce beating of my heart. Gulping, I fight the tears building behind my eyes as my arms and legs tremble uncontrollably. Stepping into the dim light, the man before me is breathtakingly dangerous. He wears a dour expression that is made more severe by the scar running from just under his left eye to the bottom of his lip. His long, jet-black hair is secured in a tight ponytail. Sneering, he pauses as his onyx eyes peruse my body, heating with arousal.

  Bile rises, clawing its way up my throat, forcing me to choke it back. Reaching me, he slowly runs his fingers down the inside of my calves to where the chain is secured. I’m unable to hide the shudder my body produces from his touch. Catching my reaction, he smirks as his hands continue to caress my calves. Each rough caress tells a story. The truth is in the roughness of his touch. Shrinking to make myself smaller, I try to force myself deeper into the chair, away from him.

  Peering at me with hooded eyes, he says, “I’m going to unchain you. If you dare to run or try anything stupid, you will regret it.”

  The underlying promise in his words has knots forming in my stomach as I nod my agreement. Unchaining my legs, he swiftly moves behind me to my bound arms, releasing me. Sighing, I rub my wrists, forcing the blood to circulate once again. Moving to stand in front of me, he motions for me to rise. On wobbly legs, I come to a stand, watching with wide eyes as he outstretches his hand for me. Instinctively flinching from the contact, I find myself cringing once again when he bellows loudly in my ear.

  “Agassi, this will either be done the easy way or the hard way. Now let’s go,” he says, grasping my elbow, pulling me through the door.

  Silently following, I use the time to take in my surroundings, looking for clues as to where I am. To my dismay, the only things that surround me are unmarked walls and dusty floors—absolutely nothing recognizable. Frustration gnaws in the pit of my stomach as he drags me through the musty hallway. Reaching a staircase, he shoves me forward.

  “Remember what I said, Agassi. Don’t be foolish. I’d hate to have to mar a pretty face like yours.”

  Rapidly blinking away tears, I take the few steps up to the main floor. Sunlight assaults me as I stand at the top of the stairs, waiting for my eyes to acclimate to the brightness. The man from downstairs gives me a little shove, causing me to stumble. As I catch myself, my eyes roam around the room, taking everything in. Why would I be in an empty restaurant? Coming to my side, he grasps my elbow once more, leading me in the direction of a corner table.

  Panic threatens to overtake me as my knees become weak and wobbly. The urge to flee is rapidly gnawing at my insides. It’s a feeling that will not subside, as if my subconscious knows I must leave soon if I wish to survive. Danger seems to lurk around every corner in this place, leaving me to drum up the worst possible scenarios in my mind. Coming to a stop before a small table with a hibachi grill in the center, several men are standing around, speaking with a woman. The familiar voice is like a bucket of ice water being thrown on me.

  No longer under my control, my body begins to s
hake violently. My once weak and wobbly knees begin to give way until a hand tightens on my arm, causing me to whimper in pain. The men in front of me disperse, leaving me eye to eye with the last person I ever wanted to see again. A feral grin stretches across her beautiful face as I gasp.

  “Hello, Ttal.”

  The nickname is like a knife to the heart. Unable to speak, I swallow harshly and nod. Her eyes narrow as she glares at me. “Is that any way to greet your mother, Ttal?”

  Slowly, memories of my childhood invade reality, forcing me to remember all of the times she punished me for not answering her in a timely fashion. Of course, her idea of a timely fashion was immediately, as in drop everything and do what she said then and there . . . or else.

  Shaking my head, I avert my eyes to the floor. “No, ma’am. I apologize.”

  Smirking, she looks me over for a few moments before replying, “Much better. I taught you better than that. You’d do well to remember your lessons.”

  Responding immediately to avoid repercussions, I say, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Her body instantly relaxes as she sits back and nods to the man still gripping my arm. With a forceful shove, he pushes me down onto the cushion. Involuntarily, I groan as the pain boomerangs throughout my body. My mother’s eyes narrow in my direction at the slip. Dropping my eyes to the floor once again, I sit, silently praying she will have no further use for me and let me go. I almost groan aloud at the thought.

  She’ll never let me go. This is all a game to her. Deftly, my fingers begin twisting and pulling at the hem of my shirt. Snapping her fingers, she brings my attention to her once more.

  “Ttal, do you know why you’re here?”

  Unable to speak, I shake my head. Flattening her lips into a thin line, she speaks, disdain dripping from each of her words. “You will answer me when I speak to you. Do you understand?”