by Tara Lee
He shakes his head.
“Give me Carrington?”
Again, Niall defies me by shaking his head.
I want that man dead for touching what’s mine. He’s the one who seems to have disappeared. I tried from the moment I knew he’d touched Callie. I tried to find him, and I felt powerless when every stone turned up empty.
I had put my best men on it, and nothing. They came back to me every damn time with nothing.
He’s a fucking ghost.
“She doesn’t belong to you,” Niall spits, as if he has any say in this.
I chuckle darkly and run my fingers through my hair.
“That’s where you’re wrong, old man. She was mine the moment I laid eyes on her. That worthless piece of shit you hand-picked for her after you backed out of our deal will be lucky to be alive by the end of the week.”
Niall swallows, and I can see his mind ticking over. I know he’s heard of what I’ve been doing.
“I’m going to destroy you, Niall, it's only a matter of time. Since Callie walked out, I’ve become somewhat...” I gesture my hand around as if I’m thinking.
“A monster,” Niall whispers, thinking I don’t hear it, but the glint in my eyes tells him I did.
“You’re not wrong. Callie kept me grounded. She kept, as you put it, the monster at bay, but if I don't find her soon and bring her home, you won’t like what this monster can really do.”
I’ve done a complete one-eighty since losing Callie. Niall is right, I have become a monster. One I’m not too proud of, but Callie is mine, and I’ll stop at nothing to bring her back.
He shakes his head, his lips sealed tight.
I raise my hand to Jacob, “Fallo- do it.”
In seconds, he has Niall's hand in his grasp.
“W-what are you doing?” the old man croaks.
Jacob grabs one of his fingers and twists. The snapping sound gets blocked out by his blood-curdling scream.
“You son of a bitch,” Niall screams.
I stare down at his bent finger. Secretly loving his pain.
I nod at Jacob before Niall has a chance to say another word; he breaks three more fingers. Each one twists in a position no finger ever should, but the old man breaks.
Niall sputters through the pain as he sobs.
“O-o-okay, okay. I-I w-will tell y-you.”
Niall scribbles on a piece of paper with his free hand, shoving it at me.
I leer down at the addresses— they were both under my nose the entire time.
“Nice doing business with you, Mr. Eaton. I hope you enjoy your new digs once you settle in.
Fino al nostro prossimo incontro- until we meet again.”
I know he doesn't understand me, but I don’t give a shit.
I wink for effect and walk out, letting Jacob deal with the prick.
Niall will go away for a while. If there’s one thing I’ve learnt since taking my father’s place, it’s that making people fear you is necessary, because without fear, you can never back up your word.
I hate that I’ve turned into the one thing I said I never would, but losing Callie has changed me, and not having her here to call me on my shit, it doesn’t feel right.
I know I’ll only unleash this side of me to those who truly deserve it.
It’s time to bring my brat home.
I’m moving in on Callie tonight while I send some of my men for Eric. He will get everything he deserves for touching what’s mine.
He thinks he got away; it will be sweet torture letting him feel my wrath.
I walk into the shop, ready to do something I should have done a long time ago.
Ethan looks up as he hears the bell, shaking his head. He gives me his back as he leaves the room.
Jacob and Dexter are with me. They know the drill, stay fucking put, and if they dare touch Ethan, I’ll put a bullet between their eyes myself without hesitation.
He remains quiet as I enter out back. Technically, I’m breaking and entering right now; the shop is Ethan’s, I left it to him. My cover is no longer needed.
Ethan starts packing pencils and paper away, not even daring to look at me.
“Ethan?”
He glares straight ahead, not acknowledging me.
I move a stool beside him and try again.
“Ethan?”
“Don’t, Bish. Just fucking don’t.” The hurt in his voice is clear.
“I need you to understand.”
“Understand what? That you’re a fucking liar?”
Ethan throws something in front of me, gets up, and walks away.
Slowly, I pick up the photo he threw down. My fingers caress over the softness.
It’s one of us taken the day I met Madden.
I stare down at our smiling faces.
Photos tell a thousand stories, and as happy as we look, it’s all lies.
Ethan’s life had changed for the better the day they adopted their son. He finally put his family first, not just himself, and even though I had saved his life, he hated me because to him, the life we shared was all lies.
The door slams and I know he’s walked out, possibly for good. Lying to the man I call my brother isn't my smartest idea, it sure as hell isn't the only option I had, but when it came down to it, Ethan never wanted to be a part of this life, and I have to respect that. I will always be here for him and his family; they are under my protection, even if they haven’t asked for it.
Ethan knows as well as I do that one day his son will be thrust into this fucked-up world. Even if he protects him the best he can, it’s in his blood, even if he’s not biologically Ethan’s.
Madden may just take my or Brantley's place one day. Who knows what the future holds.
I know Ethan is in a world of pain right now, it’s something I may never be able to fix, but that’s not to say I won’t ever give up.
My father taps his fingers along his desk as I enter the darkness of his home office. He may have been retired or lack therefore. But even the Devil himself likes to keep me on my toes.
Not that my old man has a leg to stand on anymore. His turn is coming.
“Figlio- son.” He nods while I take a seat in front of him.
“You got the girl yet?”
“Getting her soon. She’s safe. I have eyes on her.”
“Ne vale la pena- is she worth it? I mean, she’s just a piece of culo-ass. Plenty where that came from?”
I see red. My jaw ticks as I clench my teeth together.
“Guarda la tua fottuta lingua- watch your fucking tongue.” I remind him who has the power now.
“I see,” he simply says, pulling open his drawer.
“If you say she’s worth it, then by all means.” He gestures with his hands.
“She is worth every fucking thing, affare o no- deal or no deal.”
He chuckles scratching his chin.
“Deal, son, she was a deal. One Eaton screwed me out of years ago; I always knew one day you’d make him reconsider.”
I smirk at my old man.
“What can I say, I can be persuasive.”
He sniggers darkly and then hands me a folder.
“This is everything on Niall. Make sure you use it to finirlo- end him!”
Standing. I give my father the satisfaction of knowing I already have all the info on Niall I’ll ever need.
“Oh, I’ll destroy him and I don’t need whatever you have in here to do so.”
I wave the folder around before slamming it back on his desk.
My father's eyes nearly bulge out of his sockets as his face turns a red color that even makes me think he may just keel over from his blood boiling.
“Don’t disrespect me, ragazzo-boy.”
“Oh, no disrespect, Father, but seeing how I call the shots now, not you, just like you always wanted...
Your time is over, so stay the fuck out of my business.
I don’t need or want you to handle anything for me.
I will
destroy anyone who gets in my way, and anyone who thinks they can touch what’s mine.”
I storm out. It's time to collect on what’s mine.
It has been a month since I last saw Bishop. I know he’s taken his father’s place. Luna told me. She had said Ethan isn't too happy about Bishop lying about who he is but that’s a whole other story.
She told me he’s changed, that the man I knew is no longer there. In his place, a monster has formed.
That’s what I was afraid of.
I know running isn't the smartest option, but I never got far. My father made sure that he sent me to a place he thinks Bishop will never find me.
When he found out that I had not only betrayed him but Eric as well for sleeping with none other than Bishop Demetrius, the son of the man my father despised...
He told me he was delighted when he got out of the deal of marrying me off to Bishop when Bishop took off at eighteen with no sign of ever coming back.
I threw up all over the floor with the realization of how different my life could have been.
This last month has been hell. Eric and my father have made sure I’ll never see the light of day again. Eric stops by when he deems fit, tries to force himself on me, then leaves me in a shattered mess.
Knowing I will never escape this dreadful God-forsaken place makes the thought of what I know that much more awful.
I found evidence on my father and Eric, evidence that can put them away for a very long time. The things they’ve done.
A sob catches in my throat as the thought of what my father has become, just to be wealthy, haunts me. I never in a million years thought he would become a liar or a cheat.
But I guess I don’t really know him, not like a daughter should.
Coming across the photos and names of women of all ages rattled me to my core. Tears had soaked my cheeks as I looked at their faces.
Why does my father have these?
I threw up in his bin, unable to hold down the contents of my stomach the moment I landed on the youngest girl.
I quickly took photos of them all and emailed them to myself for back-up. I know I need to help them, but not knowing where they are being kept is going to make it difficult.
I’m going to bring my father down, even if it gets me killed.
Finding the file on the Demetriuses was what finally broke me, and the need to run is stronger than ever.
Bishop’s father is pure evil. The fear that Bishop will become just like him makes me fear for my life. I know Bishop would never hurt me, not physically anyway. But knowing what I know puts me at risk.
Pasquale had murdered his own wife in cold blood. Bishop was just a boy. I wonder if he knows what his father did? Had he been a part of it? Why does my father have this? Is it some sort of blackmail?
I’m now an asset to my father because the moment he caught me red-handed, reading over the files, he knew there was nothing he could hide. That was when he locked me away, to keep me his secret.
He can no longer hide behind the facade he’s thrown up. My father may be as evil as Pasquale, just not the murdering type. Well, as far as I know he hasn’t. My mother is oblivious to everything. He said she knows of nothing how he makes his money. Even the woman he has on the side who he pays generously to keep quiet.
I wipe my tear-streaked face as I lie there curled in a ball, locked away in yet another room by a man who thinks he has control over me.
Knowing this may be where I die, my body gives out, breaking down from everything. Bishop’s face is all but an image as my mind replays everything we have been through.
I’m exhausted, my body has finally given up. I drift in and out of sleep, not knowing when my father or even Eric will come for me again.
They leave enough food in my room to last a few days, but I haven’t been able to touch much since nausea is all I feel, knowing what Eric’s trying to do. Trying to accomplish.
I refuse to marry Eric. I don't care what my father does, or even Eric for that matter. They tried to force me to wed him, but I held my ground.
Eric had forced himself on me, saying that if I refused to become his wife he would fuck me until I became pregnant with his child. I was so thankful when I got my period, and knowing he had tried but didn’t succeed sent Eric into a fit of rage.
I can’t stand to look at my face.
The bruising is finally going down, but although it’s faint, you can still see it.
The thought makes bile rush up my throat. I somehow keep it down.
I guess exhaustion wins.
A loud bang wakes me. I rub my eyes, trying to recall falling asleep.
Footsteps echo, and not just one pair. They get louder the closer they get.
My heart pounds. Who they belong to? I run for the closet. It’s deep enough that I crawl inside to the back and hide. The moment I'm locked away inside,
Voices twitter outside my door. Someone is yelling, and then they turn the handle. Of course, it’s locked, so it doesn’t budge. I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my panicked breaths.
Tears roll down my face. The door is jiggled and banged until it gives way and bursts open. I screw my eyes shut, trying to hold in my whimpers as the sound echoes across the room.
I’m too scared to open my eyes, not knowing who is out there. There are whispers, and the floor creaks. The closet door swings open. It bangs against the wall, I almost gasp but thankfully I hold it back.
I’m covered by dresses, grateful they are long enough to hide me enough from the intruder. A shiver runs down my spine—a pair of sleek black shoes comes into view.
I can tell whoever this is, is wearing an expensive Armani suit.
Silent tears wet my face. The person moves around the closet, looking for what I am assuming is me.
They clear their throat, and the sound makes my heart beat faster, louder, I’m afraid they can hear it. I will it to shut up in case that’s true.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are, brat?”
My eyes shoot open.
Brat?
Bishop?
It’s Bishop!
The dresses slide apart, and there he stands in all his glory, looking so devilishly charming in a three-piece suit.
He smiles down at me, and his eyes take in my face. The frown that forms tells me he’s no longer happy looking at me.
He bends, and for some reason, I still can’t will myself to move. Bishop’s fingers trace over my face. Knowing he’s marking out the bruises that Eric gave me almost has me crumbling.
Why am I grounded to the spot? I will never know. Bishop doesn’t scare me. Or he never did? But knowing who he is now, maybe that’s why my body won’t move.
It’s frozen in place as the man in front of me reaches his fingers out to caress them over my cheek.
“It’s just me, baby.” His eyes soften as they trail over me.
“God, I’ve missed you.”
He’s missed me? Will he still say those words when he knows I know his secrets?
It seems Bishop has stolen my voice box, too, because I can’t get my tongue to move to say even one word to him.
“Mi prendero cura di te- I’ll take care of you.”
Those simple words should frighten me, even have me kicking and screaming but, not really knowing what he’s saying, I can tell it’s Italian. Bishop seems to speak Italian when he’s angry or upset.
By coincidence even though my body has forgotten we can trust Bishop, my heart knows that deep down inside. Under that tough exterior, Bishop is still that guy who makes me feel safe.
I look around, not really able to see past the wall of a man kneeling in front of me.
“Callie?” Bishop’s fingers caress my cheek. His touch forces my eyes to close at the very tenderness he shows.
Has he really become a monster?
His arms go under my legs and around my body, and before I know it, he’s lifted me to his chest and is carrying me from my hiding spot. My head sinks into hi
s hard chest as my arm grips around his neck.
It feels right. But why does it feel so wrong at the same time?
Bishop carries me out the door, down the stairs, and to a waiting black car.
“This is becoming a habit, brat.” He lets me go, making my body slide down his.
