Bound By Blood: (The Betrayed Series Book 2)

by Victoria Renteria

  Willing myself to move forward, I try with all of my might, but I’m struck with terror and fear as I peer down at my feet. The darkness subsides, revealing a never-ending expanse of quicksand. Struggling, I wiggle to and fro, trying my best to get out of the heavy sand that’s pulling me deeper and deeper, the violet hue never once leaving my sight.

  Rich violet catches my eye as it moves out of the shadows. Forgetting my struggles, I look up as the sand consumes me. It pulses, pulling me under so that only my eyes and nose remain above ground. A little girl steps out from beneath the shadows. Her hair is the color of cinnamon, and she has eyes like her father. The face of an angel—a perfect mixture of both Alex and myself. She has my heart-shaped face and delicate mouth, and his long and slender nose. She’s Violet . . . My Violet. The broken shards of my heart thud, sliding deeper into the fissures of my soul. Gasping, my eyes grow enormously wide as I watch my daughter stretch her slender arm toward me, but it’s too late. The sand drags me further into the blackness where silence awaits me.

  This is my agony, the torture I must face for all of eternity, forever chasing the violet-eyed girl that will never be.

  My body crumples in on itself, dying a little more each time the blessed numbness takes me. But like a drug addict, I cannot give up my addiction. She is my vice.

  It is my only way to see her or what I imagine she would have been. Sluggishly, I pry my eyes open, glancing around the tiny room. Blinking several times, the room becomes a bit less hazy. There’s no mattress or bucket in this one. I’m lying on a concrete floor, like the worthless object my mother treats me as.

  Wrapping my arms around my core, I hug myself tightly. Hot fragments of betrayal plague my body, mind, and soul. My mental anguish is too much to bear as my mother’s betrayal continues to rock my mind. Pain slashes, shredding my insides into tiny ribbons. Thoughts of death enter my mind, each one a welcome respite from reality. If only God would answer my prayer or the floor would open up and swallow me whole. I’d gladly pass from this life into the next just to join my beloved Violet to hold her and cradle her tiny body for even a moment. To do all of those things a mother is supposed to do with a child: brush her hair before bedtime, read her a story, learn her favorite food, teach her to read, her first crush, her wedding day. A painful tightness constricts my throat as I attempt to drag in a breath. How am I expected to live in this life? To continue on as if nothing has happened?

  Tears fall from my eyes like silent raindrops. The incessant throbbing in my head forces me to close my eyes, seeking the blessed numbness once again. The scenery is different this time. Tranquil silence surrounds me as I watch the waves crash on the shore. I feel his presence long before he speaks. The warmth from his skin radiates, filling some of the emptiness inside of me.

  My gaze never leaves the crashing waves. I can’t look at him. He can’t see the wet eyes and my tear-stained face. I’m afraid to look . . . to see what lies in the depths of his violet irises. Because one look into mine and he will know. He’ll see . . . see that I failed. Both of them.

  I couldn’t protect her. It’s my fault. Thickness fills my throat as I choke on a sob. Pressing my cheeks into my hands, I let them come. The overwhelming grief never ceases, shredding my insides like a cancerous tumor.

  His body meshes to mine, melding together like two pieces of clay in a sculptor’s hand. Strong arms bound around me, encapsulating me in his affection. Breathing deeply, I pull in lungfuls of lavender and sandalwood. His scent soothes the broken edges of my soul. Hot breath rushes across my ear. The warmth creates a delicious shiver that races along my spine.

  “Why are you crying, Goddess?” My body quavers as the deep timbre of his voice reverberates, hitting each of my cells. The tiny shards of my heart pulsate, throbbing out of control with his nearness.

  Remaining quiet, I shake my head. Squeezing me tighter, his breath brushes over my ear again. His voice is pained and full of sadness. “Goddess, you know how I hate to see you cry.”

  His words only serve to make the raindrops falling from my eyes come faster. A violent storm brews on the shore, one that I desperately wish to keep from him. Releasing me, he moves around, crouching down in front of me.

  I press my cheeks into my hands tighter, further shielding my face from view. Unyielding hands cover my slim wrists, giving them a small tug. Holding steadfast, I keep my face sealed from view.

  “Look at me, Goddess.”

  I shake my head again.

  His tone is softer, gentler this time. “Baby, look at me. Please.”

  My breath hitches in my chest. The love and affection in his voice are plain as day. Speaking through my hands, my voice cracks and is muffled as I say, “I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you look at me, Goddess?”

  “Because you will see . . .” I can’t finish my sentence. It falls flat as the pain hits me square in the gut.

  “See what, baby?”

  “I-I can’t, Alex. You’ll hate me. I hate me,” I cry. The silent raindrops continue to fall.

  “Kai, do you remember what I once told you?”

  “N-No.” My voice trembles.

  “It’s you and me no matter what. There is nothing you can say that will change that.” The conviction in his voice sends another painful shard lancing through me. I don’t deserve him. I tell him so.

  “That’s nonsense. We’re both broken. You know that. We soothe each other’s broken edges. Now let me look at that gorgeous face. Tell me what’s bothering you and let me kiss away the tears, Goddess.” He tugs on my wrists, and this time, I let them fall.

  I’m met with his vibrant, piercing violet eyes. It steals my breath and punctures the remains of my heart. Looking upon his handsome face, it hits me. Loss, overwhelming loss, our loss, and he doesn’t even know. A deep sorrow fills me to the depths of my soul because of what he will never experience because of me.

  He searches my eyes for a moment before leaning in and slanting his lips over mine. It’s a kiss full of passion and life, vitality. One meant to remind you of what life is worth living for. Threading his hands in my hair, he moves his lips over mine sensually. His tongue darts out of his mouth, teasing the corners of my lips. They part on a breathy sigh as he enters with languorous sweeping motions, his flavor bursting on my tongue.

  His tongue slowly retreats, his teeth gently gliding along my lower lip. Pulling back, he places three swift kisses on my lips before resting his forehead on mine. With my head still firmly clasped between his hands, he closes his eyes and whispers, “I’ve missed you.”

  Unable to control the sorrow and grief of my turbulent emotions, a sob escapes. His eyes fly open and begin searching my face.

  “Tell me, Goddess.” His tone is filled with concern.

  “P-Promise you won’t hate me? I-I don’t think I could stand it,” I beg.

  “Never,” he breathes out.

  “She died, Alex, and it was all my fault. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t protect her. If I had known sooner, maybe I could have done something, but . . . I just couldn’t. I couldn’t. You have to understand.” I grasp his shirt, pulling like a madwoman, raving and ranting like a lunatic.

  His brow scrunches in confusion. “Who died, love?”

  “Our child, Alex. I killed our child.” He shakes his head vigorously, his eyes bright with understanding. When he speaks, his tone is gentle and firm at the same time.

  “You did not kill our child, Kylee. Your mother did.” My irises grow wide with shock. He knows? But . . . how?

  “H-How could you possibly know about the pregnancy? Or what happened?” I ask, confusion lacing my voice. He taps my forehead. Recognition slams into me like a wrecking ball. The silent raindrops start falling again. With the tips of his fingers, he swipes them away.

  “It shouldn’t hurt that this isn’t real. That you’re not real. But it’s all too much, Alex. I’m not strong enough. I can’t . . . I can’t do this. I want to curl up into a ball and die. No one will ev
en miss me. The pain, it’s too much. It hurts too much. She’s gone, you’re gone, and I can’t be here. I just want to die.”

  The pain inscribed on his features at that moment would rival any torture my mother could dish out. His hands slip to my shoulders where he gives me a little shake.

  His voice is furious as he says, “Do not ever say that! I need you! There are so many people that need you . . .” He whispers the last words into my hair.

  “I feel your pain, Goddess. I’m with you always, in here”—he touches my forehead—“and here . . .” He places a hand over my heart. “Promise me you won’t give up, my love. Promise me. We will be together soon.”

  The pain in his voice is my undoing. Closing my eyes, I breathe in his scent, etching it into my psyche. With my eyes firmly shut, I whisper, “I promise.” Opening my eyes, I blink the grogginess away. I’m back on the concrete floor, my only company the dull pain in my abdomen, the silent reminder that my mother ripped the unborn child from my womb.

  How could she be so cruel? Shouldn’t a mother comfort her daughter in a time like this? Hold her hand? Make her feel better? Tell her everything is going to be all right? Instead, she turned herself into a victim and decided that I wasn’t worthy. That I was to be no more than a broodmare.

  The skin on my face heats, mottling with color. Loud breaths rush in and out with each exhale. My teeth gnash against one another. The skin on my face stretches into a snarl each time I think of my mother’s betrayal. Deep-seated hatred grows, filling all of the cracks and crevices, replacing the shards of my broken heart.

  Retribution. I want retribution. Vengeance for what was done. With each moment that passes, my thirst for vengeance grows, turning into a blood lust, and dousing the raging fire inside of me. A thirst so impassioned, it’s inhuman.

  My eyes grow heavy, the restless dreams calling to me yet again. Dreams of retribution and vengeance for a life that’s been ripped from my very hands, stolen, without a care as to whom it might affect. Embracing the woman within, the fierce tigress, I allow the darkness to engulf me, welcoming the solace, the silence, biding my time until the day arrives when I can kill the woman who gave me life . . . and stole my reason for existence.

  RIIIINNGGG.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming,” I mutter, fumbling for the phone on the nightstand. Finding the offensive device, I glower at it a moment before I realize it’s still ringing. Brighton’s number flashes boldly across the screen.

  “This better be good,” I demand sleepily.

  “I need to talk to you.” His voice is harried.

  Alarm bells sound in my head at his tone. Sitting up, I scrub a hand down my face and let out a heavy sigh. “All right. Spill it.”

  “No, I need to show you something. I’m on my way up.” The call disconnects before I can muster a reply.

  Blinking, I look down at my phone. What the hell? A twinge of anxiety punctures my resolve. Tossing off the sheet, I slide on a pair of shorts and jog down the stairs. The knock comes just as I get to the door. Brighton’s frazzled gaze meets mine, ratcheting my anxiety level up by five thousand.

  His hair is tousled like he’s been constantly running his hands through it. There are bags under his eyes, and he’s looking a little pale. Ushering him inside, I warily ask, “Hey, man, are you okay?”

  He bites the corner of his lip, a nervous habit he has, and nods.

  I don’t believe that shit for a second. “Yeah, I’m not believing that, Brit.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I glare in his direction.

  Huffing, he loudly expels a breath. “I’m fine, AJ. A little tired but no worse for wear.”

  My eyes narrow with determination. “How’s the injury?” I demand.

  He rubs his side. “It’s getting better. It was just a bruise. I’m fine, really. That’s not why I’m here,” he says, annoyed.

  “We’ll get to why you’re here. I just need to make sure that you are okay. And from what I can see, you are most certainly not.”

  “Dammit, AJ. I’m fine, just tired. I was up all night going over the security feed from the Tenpro House. I found something. That’s why I rushed over here.”

  “You couldn’t just tell me over the phone?” I ask, skeptically.

  Brighton lets out a humorless laugh. “Look, I know you, and what I’m going to tell you . . . well, let’s just say you will want to see the proof for yourself.”

  My eyes glow, taking on an eager gleam as I pick up the faint hints of excitement in Brighton’s tone. Fuck, is it possible? Could the tables be turning? For once, is fate not being such a cruel, punishing wench? God, for the love of all that is holy . . . I sure as hell hope she isn’t. I mean, throw me a bone for cryin’ out loud.

  “Well, come on. Let’s get comfortable.” I point to the couch then busy myself by making two cups of coffee. Unable to help myself, I peek my head out the kitchen and ask, “So, I’m assuming some of that sleeplessness has to do with a perky blonde back in the States?”

  Brighton scowls. His gray eyes are full of turmoil. Well, hell, I’ve seen that look before. Grabbing the coffee, I walk back into the living room and set a cup down in front of him. He grunts his appreciation before taking a sip.

  “Have you tried talking to her about it?” I urge.

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” he pushes back.

  “Sure, you keep telling yourself that, but at some point, it’s all going to boil over, and when it explodes . . . well, let’s just say you’ll wish you had said something.”

  “I’ll think about it.” He sulks, blowing the steam from the top of his coffee cup.

  “You do that.” I smirk.

  Rolling his eyes, he says, “All right, I need to show this to you. I saw a figure slinking out the back way down a service elevator the night we went to the Tenpro House. I had a suspicion as to who it was. His profile was just eerily familiar. Although there was so much footage, it took me a while to get to it.” He pauses, sucking in a breath.

  The hair on the nape of my neck rises, my entire body going on alert. “What is it?” I growl.

  “It’s easier if I just show you.” He pulls out his tablet.

  Brighton presses play, and the grainy video feed begins filling up the screen. Gasping, anger surges wild and untamed through my muscles. The urge to maim and kill is bright and vibrant, a living entity inside of me. There in the shadows of the Tenpro House, Colonel Black sticks to the wall, frantically trying to avoid detection at all costs. Once out of sight, he barrels down the long hallway that leads to the back elevator and scurries inside.

  Inside the service elevator, he takes it to the lobby where he rushes past the guard, out the door, and hails a taxi. The video stops and I play it over and over again, making sure that my eyes are not playing tricks on me. Roaring, I surge off the couch and begin pacing the small confines of my living room. Violent, uncontrolled anger rushes through my body. My vision clouds as the loud pounding in my ears drowns out everything around me. He is the leak.

  Someone we have trusted all this time.

  How could he? He betrayed his country. He betrayed his friend. He knew where my Goddess was the whole time.

  The red haze that’s clouding my vision deepens, the crimson tide sluicing over me, the thirst for vengeance palpable. My rage-filled gaze falls on Brighton. He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t waver. As a matter of fact, his gaze reflects the same anger and rage warring inside me. Relief hits me hard as I blow out a breath. I can always count on my team to have my back.

  “Where is he?” I demand.

  A devilish grin lights up Brighton’s face. “I’m so glad you asked.”

  “Tell me you have him locked down and he isn’t going anywhere,” I plead.

  “Your wish is my command. He’s at a temporary location on the outskirts of Seoul. Get this . . . he’s with one of Sang-Hyun’s girls.”

  “You’re shittin’ me?” I ask incredulously.

  “Nope. He’s with one of his prostitutes. An
d he just got there. All of the locations have eyes, which I tapped into and took over that one. So, we get the nitty gritty. But we need to move now . . . while he’s preoccupied.”

  “Fuck! Let’s move. I’ll call the Colonel. You start calling everyone else. Have them gear up and meet here in fifteen. We’re going in hot.”

  “You got it.” Brighton’s excitement is contagious. The beating of my heart thrums in time to the ringing as I dial the Colonel’s number. After three rings, his voicemail picks up. Shit. Redialing, I wait with bated breath when voicemail picks up again. Fuck it. We’re going in without him.

  “Colonel, there’s been a breakthrough. Call me when you get this.” Hanging up, I stride back over to Brighton.

  “No go on the Colonel.” He raises his eyebrows in surprise. Yeah, I know the feeling.

  Nodding, I acknowledge the sentiment. “I know he’d want to be there, but I’m not waiting around. It’s still my team, my mission. I make the calls, and we’re going in. Is everyone else ready?”

  “Yeah, they’re bloody excited is what they are. All set to be here on time.”

  Looking at the clock on the wall, I grimace. “I’m going upstairs to grab my gear. You got what you need already?”

  “Don’t be daft. Of course I have what I need. I don’t ever go anywhere without it.” His shocked expression and offended tone cause me to chuckle.

  “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get your knickers in a bunch.” Muttering curses under his breath, he goes back to monitoring Colonel Black.

  Sprinting up the stairs, I change and start grabbing weapons, strapping them to my body. Tumultuous thoughts hammer away at my already tempestuous brain. Each thought provokes a new question that begs to be answered. Will he have her location? What made him betray his country? What if he doesn’t talk?

  That’s easy. We make him talk. Although, there is always a possibility that he doesn’t have any information. I disregard that last thought. It’s asinine. He knows something. Another thought occurs to me.