Chapter 18
Journey would never know the turmoil festering deep inside me, gnawing at my thoughts. Everything she had to do in that pit of bullshit was because I couldn't protect her.
Me. Sheppard Mondelli. Second-in-command to Jericho. Member of the Viotto Crime Family. Fucking useless.
I couldn't save her from my father years ago. Hell, I couldn't even save myself from his wrath. Even now. He's like an unbeatable boss at the end of a game, continuously coming back to life.
My fingers brush over her soft cheeks. Her skin is smooth beneath my touch, and I revel in it. Fucking possess me completely. Here in this room. This is our little slice of paradise in the Hellscape we've been dragged into.
Our room. Our time. Just us. We'll pretend we're fine, but we're anything but. Not until we can figure out a way to contact the others and pray they weren't on that fucking boat. Knowing Arrow's reckless ass, he was probably the captain of the stupid thing, guiding them directly into fucking harm's way. Good thing Jericho wouldn't have let him out of his sight—Arrow's reckless. Jericho's meticulous. Get the two together; it's a deadly combination of knocking heads. As for me? I'm the calm in the storm. The grounding force keeping us functioning.
Or at least, I try to be for them.
I blow out a breath, attempting to fight off all the pain and worry living deep inside my fucking soul. I want to rip my father's heart out and fucking watch as he suffers under my hands. My brain concocts so many scenarios where I'm the one to watch the light bleed from his eyes as he chokes on his blood and tongue while I laugh at his misery.
Instead of letting my anger fuel me as the sun passes through our window, I dedicate myself to counting the freckles dotting Journey's cheeks to calm myself. Years before, I'd count backward in my head. Even teaching it to Jericho to soothe his ferocious anger. But right now, I'm beyond visualizing the numbers in my mind. I need the visual of the woman I love finally sleeping peacefully in my arms after a night of whimpering and thrashing around.
I knew that's how this would end. That my girl would be fighting the demons of her past like so many times before. This time, I couldn't comfort her with my voice when she screamed out in pain, begging for her past torment to end. Only the touch of my fingers brings her back to me, and it helps soothe her. Only slightly.
Exhaustion weighs heavily on my aching eyes as I watch her. She wasn't the only one worried about my father sneaking in here at night and taking what he wanted. Fuck.
I clench my fist at my side. I'd lose myself in the colors and shapes if I had my paints and canvases. Forget about my worries and just be. But here? It's fucking impossible to think through the rage bellowing beneath the surface.
I have to be careful here. I can't let my guard down, not around my father. He has something up his sleeves. More than what he's said.
With a kiss on her forehead, I lift myself away from her embrace and get out of bed with a sigh. I spot a coffee machine with pods near the table and window, making a beeline toward it. The sweet scent of coffee fills the room, slightly calming my nerves. Journey doesn't stir, sleeping eerily still under the covers. Lowering myself into a chair across the bed, I sip the hot coffee and squeeze my eyes shut. The sweet burn of the liquid travels down my throat, warming my empty stomach.
My eyes stray out the window, peeking through the slit of the curtain. The sun highlights the rugged terrain again, giving way to the large island we’re trapped on, with a dramatic drop to the rocks meeting the shoreline.
No escape.
That phrase rings repeatedly in my brain.
We're trapped birds in a cage. Only able to stand by and watch as the world moves around us while we’re standing still. I sip my coffee, trying to knock the morbid thoughts out of my mind. We will escape here. No matter if we have to climb over the sharp rocks and swim our way back to Briar Cove.
I’ll protect Journey and Sunshine with my damn life.
The soft click of the lock disengaging, followed by the gentle creak of the door swinging open, fills the silent room. I hold my breath, my coffee mug pausing midway to my lips. I eye Darrell, standing stoically in the doorframe, barely fitting through with a pile of clothes in his arms.
He frowns. I fucking frown. Tension rises. Then, I set my coffee cup on the table and stand, crossing my arms over my chest to prepare for a showdown. I'll fight if I have to. Even if my stomach turns and blood makes me slightly queasy.
I've done it before, and I'll do it again to keep the woman I'm obsessed with safe.
“Your father wants a word with you,” he grumbles, tossing the stack of clothes at my chest, forcing me to catch them. I huff, looking at Journey. “Alone.”
His words ring through the room like a fucking bullet. Alone? Fuck no. Over my dead body. My chest puffs up. A sense of protectiveness hits me hard.
I'll never leave her again. Ever.
Darrell holds up a finger with a sigh, stopping me from coming toward him. I'm going to tear his fucking head off, and then... I have no clue.
I look him up and down. He's huge. Muscular. Intimidating as hell. Could I take him? He's shorter than me. Yet, stockier. I could easily surprise him. But how far could I get?
Could I escape with him dead? Lock him in this room, steal his keys, and carry Journey and Sunny to safety? Possibly. Or not.
Darrell ignores my murderous glare and opens the door further, allowing another presence into the room.
A glow hangs around her frame. She smiles. Seeming so light and carefree, bouncing into the room on her toes. Despite where we are and who has her. And us.
It's so strange looking at her. Sunshine. It's fitting for her. She's someone I barely knew existed. Even after those years of caring for Journey, feeding her, and sneaking into her home, I had no clue she had a sister.
Our sister.
A child my lunatic of a father gave to the world.
It's something Journey and I share now. A sister. Something I've never had before. A sibling. It was always just me under my father’s thumb. No one to share the burden. Not that I wanted that or needed it. I took it as best I could.
But now I have a sister. Someone who shares my blood with the man who ruined my life. Fuck. Will he ruin hers?
All the more reason to get us all the fuck away from this island.
A tightness forms in my chest when I look her over. She's small. Weak looking. Slightly pale. But oh-so confident. It oozes out of her in waves as she grins at Journey and me, like this situation doesn’t bother her.
Walking into the room, she has a skip in her step, stopping right before me. Turning, she glares at Darrell, who immediately rolls his eyes, turns on his heel, and walks out the door before hesitating.
“I'll be waiting for you,” he grunts, shutting the door behind him.
“She'll be okay. I'm going to take her downstairs with me.” Her cheeks pinken slightly before she clears her throat, staring up at me. “We're going to make breakfast for all of us.” She grins.
That smile—it's warm and inviting. It reminds me of Journey and what genuine joy would look like on my girl. But also him—my father. I see him inside her—the look in her eyes and the small expressions on her face.
Sunshine is a true mix of the two. It's odd to witness.
I sigh, spotting a notebook and pen on the nightstand beside the bed. Like most functioning hotels, this one has all the amenities—coffee, paper pads, thin sheets, and toilet paper.
The works.
I'm not sure what to say to Sunny. We've never spoken. Hell, I didn't know she existed for most of my time knowing Journey.
To say this is awkward is an understatement. What the hell do I say to her? Sorry, our dad is a fucking psycho, and you've been thrust into this bullshit?
‘And you're okay?’ I write quickly, showing her the piece of paper as I stand in front of her again.
She blinks a few times at my question and nods shakily. Something sparks in her eyes—a truth she's withholding. I've watched people for years. Observing their habits and tics. People slip up around a man who can't speak. Thinking he won't tell a soul.
But they're wrong.
Journey has been terrified for her sister. Day in and day out, worrying about what she's doing and if she's safe. Especially in the caves. Drenched in the unknown. It's all that's been on her mind. Well, besides the fight and me and all the other bullshit Journey holds on her shoulders.
I need to end that.
I couldn't stop my father's fuckery before. But it ends now. I'll protect Journey and her—my—sister, with my entire fucking soul.
‘She worries about you constantly.’ I write, clearing the sludge in my throat.
Sunny’s gaze strays to the woman unmoving under the sheets. A soft snore rips from her lips, filling the room. Sunny giggles, covering her mouth with her delicate fingers.
“She really shouldn't anymore,” she says breezily, shrugging.
Easier said than done. I level Sunny with a glare. She grins at me, exposing all her teeth.
“I can tell by your face exactly what you're thinking. J is the most hard-headed woman on the planet. Believe me. She constantly kept my candy away from me.” She pouts with a huff. “It was torture.”
“You weren't supposed to eat it,” Journey croaks, not opening her eyes or moving. “Bad for your heart, Brat.”
Sunny giggles again, raising her chin. “Good! You're awake! I've got lots of plans for us today,” Sunny chirps with pep, jumping in place while clapping her hands.
“Ugh,” Journey whines, waving a dismissive hand and mumbling into the pillows. “You're way too perky this morning,” she practically gags out, pulling her finger to her lips.
“You can go,” Sunny says, putting a hand on her hip, eyeing me. She makes a shooing motion again, basically kicking me out.
I blink several times. Seriously? This tiny person can't be serious. Right?
“Sunny,” Journey chastises. “You can't just boss him around.”
Sunny raises her brows, looking between us with a huff. She may seem like an adult, but I have to remind myself that despite the circumstances. She's a child. Fourteen. Fuck.
She was born into such a fucked up situation. Lucky for her, though. She didn't have to endure living under our father's roof. Unlucky for her, though. She had to spend her youth under Sable West's. At least she had Journey growing up. A grounding source that protected her from the worst of the worst, taking the brunt of it herself.
My girl is a goddamn hero.
From the corner of my eye, Darrell loudly opens the door and hovers in the doorway with an impatient expression. He checks his wrist and taps his watch. Fuck. I guess that's my cue. Sunny will get her wish. I'm out. I have to be. My father apparently needs to have a discussion with me. Oh, the joy. To see his face every day is going to be a living hell. I erased him from my mind so long ago. The echoes of his abuses live on. In my heart. In my mouth where my tongue should be and in my fucking memories.
I shut it down, leaving all that shit in the back of my mind. Fuck it all.
I kiss Journey's forehead, lingering for longer than necessary. Do I want to let her out of my sight? No. Do I feel safe leaving her here with Sunny? Possibly. If they're going to make breakfast, maybe Sunny knows something we don't. She's been out here longer than us, free to do whatever she wants. I can only hope.
Hope is all we have right now.
'I have to meet my father.' I gently nudge Journey, forcing her to open her eyes and read the note.
"The fuck," Journey murmurs, sitting up quickly. Her hair stands on end, and her beautiful face twists with disgust until it pales. "Why? Let me come with you." She wavers a bit, shaking her head when her eyes squeeze shut.
"You can't," Darrell interrupts with a huff.
"No one asked you, Darrell," she grits out, curling her fists on the comforter.
'I have to. I'll be fine.' I write again, shoving it in her face to remove the tension between her and Darrell. Whatever happened between the two of them needs to be explained. Because the way she seethes whenever he enters the room has my hackles rising.
Darrell rolls his eyes in response, discreetly tapping his watch again—impatient bastard. Give me a goddamn minute.
"Shepp," Journey whispers, eyeing Darrell with apprehension. There's a lot she's not saying with her words. What if this asshole kills me and then comes back for her or Sunny?
'I know.' I write out as cryptically as I can. I don't want the other two to catch wind of our thoughts. Especially the man tapping his foot now . 'Have fun with your sister.' I quickly peck Journey on the lips and back away before she can stop me again.
"Don't worry. We're going to have fun today," Sunny says as I pass before her. "You'll be okay, too," she whispers, gently squeezing my arm. There's a promise in her words. Like she knows something I don't know. It's odd, staring at her—our sister.
I nod, letting her know I've heard her words, and she drops my arm.
Before Darrell can grunt anymore instructions, I quickly get dressed in the clothes he tossed at me in the bathroom and reemerge. A feeling of apprehension settles on my shoulders, but I have no choice to follow when he takes a step away and nods for me to follow.
"Follow me. Quickly. Before he has a goddamn aneurysm," Darrell grits out quietly, ushering me out the door and toward the elevators.
Once inside, I stand beside him, eyeing the metal walls, our reflections staring back at me. Darrell grunts, hits two buttons and forces a keypad out.
"I'm taking you to the basement. It's where your father's office is." His eyes cut to me, and he raises his brows. "It's only accessible through this." The last half of his sentence is soft and telling, urging me to watch as he hits the code. 1.2.2.4. My brows furrow at the numbers before the keypad automatically disappears into the box it came from, and the elevator returns to normal. Odd. There seems to be a secret floor of this hotel that my father doesn't want anyone to know about. Well, except Darrell. And now me.
The elevator moves, and we stand in silence, letting the shitty music overtake the space between us.
'Any clue what he wants?' I write and shove it under Darrell's nose.
He reads the words carefully. "The request came this morning straight to me." His gaze eats away at my face when I take the notepad back and tuck it into my pocket with the pen. I'm sure my father will be irate when he sees I'm still writing messages instead of using my voice.
But fuck him.
He doesn't deserve to hear an ounce of my words. Only Journey does. For now. Soon, my brothers will, too. Everyone will know that I'm still inside, just locked away.
Darrell grumbles, holding his ear and shaking his head. "For fuck's sake," he grits out and taps his ear again. "I'll fucking be there. Just chill. Don't let them shoot anyone. Fucking Russians," he hisses the last part to himself, blowing out a breath. The elevator stops after a lengthy descent, and the doors open to a dimly lit hallway looking nothing like the hotel from above. None of the expensive touches to impress whoever he brings to the hotel lie here. It's plain and simple, like this is his little slice of paradise, which he brings no one else to.
So, the question still stands. Why am I here, then? Does he want me to see this? It's an odd flex for him.
"Your father has two offices. One in the penthouse suite where he lives and breathes, and this..." he trails off.
Two offices? Wouldn't he want me to peek at the expensive one to show me how well he's done and how much power he has? My brows furrow. So, he hides in an office far from his men and island?
'Secret?' I write out quickly, putting my foot in front of the closing door. Darrell grunts. Neither confirming nor denying my thoughts. Well, not until he rips the piece of paper off the notebook and tucks it into his pocket with a frown.
"Step out, go to the left. Follow it for twenty feet. It'll be the only door open to your right." He doesn't look at me; he simply shoos me away. "When you're done, all you have to do is hit the up button twice. The elevator will come to you empty and take you wherever you want. Now, I have to go take care of our goddamn unruly guests." He licks his lips, disappearing behind the closing metal doors that slam shut, and the elevator once again springs to life, taking him up.
In his absence, my chest tightens under my rampant thoughts of what will happen during this surprise meeting. The dimly lit hallway goes for what seems like miles—only lit by tiny lights on the walls. The flooring beneath my feet sticks to my shoes with every move I make, proving that this is a secret part of the hotel.
I wonder if there's an exit door here? Probably not. My sperm donor loves to trap his victims in basements with no way out.
Doing as Darrell said, I make my way down the hall toward the only light source coming from an open door, with his words ringing in my mind. Unruly guests? The Russians? Does my sperm donor have more people staying at this hotel besides his men? He must if Darrell had to rush off to deal with them.
But what does that mean?
With each step I take, I lose a piece of myself. Leaving behind Sheppard Mondelli and becoming a shell. Numbness tingles in my mind, erasing every ounce of emotion running through me. If he hurts me, mentally or physically—I won’t feel it. Every time I have to face this man—which hasn't been much since we got here—I die a little on the inside.
All the things that happened in the past slam back into me the closer I get. Papers ruffle. Feet shuffle. He's moving around his secret office with purpose. Either gearing up to hunt me down, or something else is happening.
"And everything is going according to plan?" My father's voice fills the hallway I'm standing in, hitting me square in the chest. His tone is different—loving and attentive, something he's never used with me or my mother.
"Oh, Thomas," the woman's voice says with a sigh over the speakerphone. "Better than ever, Love. You wouldn't believe how easy this was." She giggles.
"You haven't fucked him, have you?" he growls with possession. "If you..."
"God, you're insufferable sometimes. Did I fuck him? I have to play the part, Tommy. I always have..." she trails off with a sigh. "This is my goddamn operation. You best remember that.”
Her operation? My brows furrow at the implications as they murmur something else to one another—something like loving words and heated whispers. I wish I could block it from my memories forever.
I force myself to tune back in, listening to every word they say. It could be important—something for our cause.
There's something about her voice that has my heart rate spiking. It's so familiar. But not my mother's. Not that he ever cared about her. He treated my mom like a rag doll and a sex toy, using her as he pleased. Hitting her where it hurt more. Sometimes, I'm surprised they had me together. The disdain he showed for my mother knew no bounds. And for me? He hated me. Used me. Fucked me up beyond measure.
My father hand-crafted me into the person I am. The fucked up version, that is.
"I fucking don't want to hear about that..." Pain slices through my father's tone the exact moment something goes flying and slams into the wall, shattering to pieces. Small particles fly into the hallway, and I hold my breath. I can only hide for so long before he comes to find me. "You knew how I felt about this entire operation," he hisses. The loud sounds of his footsteps going back and forth across the room echo in my ears. He's pacing. "You knew how I felt about it back then, too! You fucking him when you were mine..."
"It was a necessary evil, Tommy. You knew it. I knew it. Revenge has always been our plan. And this? God." She laughs loudly, taking me back to when I was a child, and my heart stops. I listen more carefully to the cadence of her voice. A voice I haven't heard since I was a child, playing with Jer in the backyard.
"Jericho! Sheppard!" she shouts, holding a tray with a smile etched into her face. She stares between the two of us with love in her eyes. "Oh, boys. I've got snacks for you while your fathers work." She carries the tray to a small picnic table near the zoo, taking up real estate on their property.
"Mommy," Jericho says with a grin, coming to hug her legs. She sighs, rubbing his back lovingly. "You're here." He grins at her.
"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, baby," she says, tapping his nose. "Now, why don't you two take a second and snack? You've been playing really hard." She grins at us again, taking in my face. "You're okay, Sheppard?" she whispers, leaning in to swipe the hair from my eyes.
I nod. "Yes, Mrs. Viotto." I grin widely, exposing the missing tooth I dropped under my pillow last night.
"Oh, you lost your tooth." She giggles. "Did the tooth fairy come for a visit?"
I nod, but two imposing presences come from the house, walking directly toward us with scowls.
"It'll be okay," she whispers, standing tall. “Good afternoon, Gentleman." Her eyes bounce between Gabriel and my father, taking in their angry moods. I bite into my sandwich, breathing slowly as they converse. “Of course, darling," she says to Gabe, touching his chest with a sigh.
But that’s not what stops me in my tracks. It's my father. His eyes bore into Mrs. Viotto and Jer's daddy. His jaw tightens, and his eyes harden.
What's wrong with him?
I swallow down the memory that was long forgotten. Maybe I had locked it away. Or perhaps I didn't realize what was happening at the time. How could I have? I was only four or five; I'm not entirely sure.
Her voice titters again with laughter as my father chuckles. Grace Viotto. A woman who disappeared years before, leaving Jericho in a dire situation without her. All of Gabe's rage landed on him. And only him. Not that she took the brunt of anything. He worshiped the ground Grace walked on. Giving her everything under the sun to please her. We all saw it. The way he loved her. Even now, his search was merciless. And now she's alive? Talking to my father on the phone?
I guess the amazing case of reappearing parents has begun for both of us.
"I have to go, Tommy. Just know things are progressing on my end. Everything we worked hard for these past three years is coming to fruition. Briar Cove will be all ours in a matter of a month. Nothing and no one will stop us. This is our time to shine." Her words ring out long after my father has hung up the phone.
Grace Viotto is alive and well. And working with my father, who is Shadow? What exactly is she doing, though?
I have so many questions I know I won't get the answers to. Thomas Mondelli wouldn't let go of that easily, especially if it meant telling me about his plans with Jericho's mom. He'd kill me before he told me his secrets.
Quietly, I suck in a breath and take a few silent steps back. If he knows I know something, he'll use it to torture me more. This entire situation has to be stealthy and just right.
The shrill sound of his phone ringing fills the air again, followed by a sharp hello. Now is as good a time as any. With as much noise as I can muster with my feet, I plant myself in the light of his office glimmering in the hallway. Nerves roll through me at the sight of him standing behind a small wooden desk in a desolate office. There are no paintings. No designs. Just old wallpaper peeling from the drywall. A musty odor wafts from almost every inch of the hallways and office. I wonder what the other doors on this floor hide from my probing eyes. Something to explore later, I suppose.
"God fucking damn it," he hisses, pacing again behind the small desk, stroking his chin. "Get them the fuck in line. Give them all the booze they can swallow. Order more from the ports and have our men bring as much back as possible on our next shipment." He stops dead when he sees me. He takes me in from head to toe with a frown. "Sit the fuck down!" he bellows, pointing to the chair in front of his rickety desk.
I do as I'm told. Playing it smart is way more important than showing him I'm stronger than him. I could easily throw him across the room and make a run for my life. He holds up a finger as he listens to whoever is on the other end of the phone. Then, with a sigh, he hangs up.
"Darrell is such a good little delivery boy, isn't he?" He huffs, tucking his phone into his pocket and sitting across from me. His hands fold on the desk, and a smirk lifts his lips. "You weren't supposed to be a part of the deal. You know that, right?" He raises a brow. “You weren’t supposed to come here. Back in my fucking life.” He shakes his head in disgust. “But it is what it is. You’ll become useful. If anything.”
I nod, remembering the whispered words of whoever knocked me out with a needle to the neck. I wasn't a part of the package deal. Half of me feels like I recognized that person, but it’s so fuzzy that I don’t exactly remember what happened. Before I ended up on the emergency staircase, my fists met Gabriel’s face in a glorious fight, knocking him to the ground. If I had stayed for three seconds longer, I could have ended one monster. Once and for all. But Journey. I remember her cries and shouts echoing from behind the exit, pulling me in her direction.
And then, nothing. Why can’t I remember who knocked me out?
"But it all worked out, didn't it? You got to stay with your fucked up little girlfriend, and I got what I wanted."
But what exactly did he want with all this? What the fuck was the point? To hold something over Journey’s head? Gain information? I’m not comprehending what went through his mind when he bartered for Journey.
'What did you want?' I bravely write on the slip of paper and hold it up for him to see. It’s a gamble on my end. Despite wanting to silence me for eternity, he hates it when I don’t use my voice.
He scowls. "Shadow needs alliances—friends in the world. We've already scalped Gabe's men. His brother's men. Anyone we could get our hands on. They come here. Get a better life and fight for us. We need stronger alliances. Better trades. More of an empire.”
Not exactly the information I wanted. I need more on why Journey and Sunshine are here. It doesn’t make sense.
‘And us being here?’ I write out again.
“Leverage. Revenge. Do you want full details, boy? Then use your goddamn voice. I didn’t take that, did I?” Long ago, my father’s words would have pierced me through the chest like arrows finding their mark and obliterating me. But not now. It easily rolls off my shoulders. “That’s what I thought,” he scoffs, waving a hand at me like he wants to dismiss me.
Fuck that.
He brought me down to his secret office for a reason. And I need to figure it out. So, I’ll keep poking and prodding the monster. And if I have to worm my way onto his good side? Then so fucking be it. For Journey and Sunshine. For my own goddamn self. Our safety is the most important.
'Russians?' I write out again, lifting the paper for him to see.
This time, I’m met with no resistance—just a smirk.
"Unruly fucking pricks," he hisses with disdain and then checks his watch. "I've got a meeting with the head of the Bratva in thirty minutes. I want you there with me." He raises a brow when I swallow hard.
'Why me?'
He narrows his eyes. "You're my son. They're all about family ties strengthening their outfit. So, we are stronger together. That girl is fucking useless in this instance, but not for long." He stands abruptly, and I follow suit, eyeing him cautiously as he rounds the desk. He smirks. "Be a good fucking sport and behave during the meeting. Maybe I'll spare you in the marriage department. But fuck this up? I'll fuck you up. Now, keep up." He takes off down the long hallway with me in tow, eyeing his movements. “You want to know a secret, son?” he asks, hitting the up button twice on the elevator with a smirk. I nod. “There’s going to be a new crowned king of the Bratva here shortly. Today, you’ll meet Naum. Naum Antonov. And tomorrow? He won’t exist.”
Fuck. My heart drops. I’ve heard the horror stories about him. He’s a goddamn nightmare. Psycho. Worse of the worse. And he’s here? This can’t be fucking good. And to top it all off, my sperm donor has confided in me. He’s testing me—my loyalties. Everything rides on this moment between us.
So, if he’s the leader of it all and a new king will be crowned soon, what does that mean? Death? Destruction? There’s no way my sperm donor could take down the entire Bratva. They’re too powerful. More than him. More than fucking Gabriel’s family. They’re worldwide, with connections on every continent.
My father grins when the empty elevator opens, and he forces me inside. “Keep your eyes on him. That’s what you’re here for. Observe the fucking room. I want you by my side, looking for anything off.” He straightens his shirt with a huff. “I know you won’t say a goddamn word or write a note, will you? Naum is going down. That’s what’s going to happen.”
Well, fuck.