Chapter 45
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
VIVIAN
There he is.
It figures. Even in captivity, David made his cage his juvenile castle.
Jace must’ve told the guards to go easier on him.
Candy bar wrappers are strewn about the concrete room. Empty juice boxes litter the floor. He’s been given extra boxers and socks, most of which lie crumpled, not folded. The toddler never met a room he couldn’t ruin.
Proof that men like Jace were raised right, to clean up after themselves, in every luscious, manly way.
And a man-child like David was raised by an enabler who cleaned up his messes for him, so he feels entitled to make more for everyone else.
But the moment David sees me enter the room, followed by Jace, standing beside me, then menacing king after menacing king, forming an inked army behind us?
He scrambles to his bare feet, the back of his shaking hand wiping the chocolate from his mouth, his knobby knees starting to shake.
“Vi… Vi… Vivian,” he stammers, scanning the threat. “What’s going on?”
I don’t answer him. Pointing to the guards, I direct them, “Remove the smell and leave the stench.”
Is it just my imagination, or am I already getting sensitive to odors? An evolutionary advantage, protecting my body from harm.
Harm he tried to inflict, but fuck that.
I’m a queen.
I’m no man’s victim; I’m the victor.
Quickly, the guards grab David’s orange bucket, seeming glad to leave us with their most infantile captive, I’m sure.
I toss David’s phone at his feet as Jace sucks his teeth.
On the way to the bunker in Jace’s truck, I charged it. I checked it. There were three pictures taken of me that night.
And I mean taken.
Stolen.
I’m not the wrong one for having a drink; it’s not a sin. David’s the criminal for having his way without my consent.
The Queen was right weeks ago. My body is my property, and I did not give David permission to touch it, hold it, kiss it.
That’s all that was in those pictures, but it’s enough to have Jace crackling with murderous energy.
Only I can stop him.
“You have two minutes to explain the illegal pictures you took of me”—I arch a brow—“again. Or one minute before the father of my child kills you.”
Yeah, I said it. I want David to know he’s practically dead either way.
His weak chin drops. Slack-jawed, he realizes he’s about to dance with the devil who loves me.
Loves me and my baby.
Reaching up, I loop my arm around Jace’s, my heart fluttering at how hard his biceps flex under his starched shirt. Like a crisp sheet draped over a rocky volcano about to explode.
“Answer my queen.” Jace can barely speak through his rage. “Now!” His roar ricochets, punching the concrete walls and bounding back with warning; he’s seconds away from attack.
David grabs his dishwater-blond hair, his beady eyes terrified. “I swear. I swear I didn’t touch her.”
“Whoops, that was a mistake.” Grant mutters what Jace materializes.
In an advance so swift, Jace slams David against the wall. Holding him by his throat, feet dangling, Jace growls in his face, “One more fucking lie out of your mouth, and it’ll be your last.”
“Tell her the truth.” Nick replaces Jace. Guarding me, my second king wraps his beefy arm around my shoulder. “It’s not hyperbole, bruh,” he mocks. “We will kill you for our queen.”
With bulging eyes, David doesn’t know what version of hell he’s facing.
A hulking NFL defensive player by my side. A ruthless, inked lawyer behind me. A covert, killer accountant. A tatted, wrathful man of God. A mountain Mafia man. And Grant? He’s a laughing, lethal enigma.
But Jace? He’s clearly ten seconds away from choking David to death.
Piss runs down his leg. “I… I swear,” he blubbers. “I swear I didn’t fuck Vivian.”
“Goddammit.” That sets Jace off. He lifts David higher by the neck before turning to toss him across the room.
His body lands like a rag doll on concrete while Grant laughs. “Choose your next words wisely, dumbass. ’Cause clearly ‘fuck’ and ‘Vivian’ will get you killed.”
Shaking his rattled skull, David fights for focus. “I didn’t… I didn’t…”
“Careful, boy,” Loch goads. “My biggest brother’s two seconds away from ripping your throat open.”
Teeth bared. Muscles twitching. Glare intensely focused. I’m not sure I can stop Jace now. We forget humans are animals, and mine’s a beast.
“I didn’t do what you think I did,” David wails.
“What I know you did was touch my woman.” Jace charges him again. Dragging him up by the hair, he makes him stand against the wall with shackles on it. “And you know what I do to men who touch my woman without her consent?”
“Aw, fuck,” Grant mutters. “I’m not cleaning this up.”
It’s bloody and brutal what Jace does, but I don’t look away.
With Nick beside me, I watch as Sire and Loch pin David’s wrists against the wall while Jace holds a gleaming knife over David’s right thumb.
“Was this the thumb that took the pictures of my queen?” I’ve never heard Jace sound so savage.
“Was this the thumb that took the video of my best friend?” I’ve never seen him have no regard, only rage.
“Is this the thumb that tried to hurt her, trap her, bribe her, and make her your bitch, but now you’re mine? ”
I’ve never heard him talk like that either, but that’s not Jace. That’s the beast who was locked in a trunk, and now he’s free to defend me.
With a gut-wrenching scream and violent spurt of blood, Jace cuts off the tip of David’s thumb to its first joint.
He drops David into a whimpering pile on the floor, shocked, holding his shaking wrist and staring at his missing half digit in horror before Jace scoops it up.
Grabbing David’s neck. Squeezing it. Pressing his bloody thumb to his lips.
“Answer my queen,” he sneers, “or you’re gonna eat your own fucking flesh. What did you do to her?”
“You drugged me.” Aiming for David, I pull away from Nick, knowing no king in this room will let anything happen to me. “You went into my bedroom after your sister left me there. You laid on the bed with me. You took pictures cuddling me? Why?” I’m confounded. “And then what? What did you do?”
I join Jace, reaching for his hand with my ex’s blood on it. It’s surreal and sweet how Jace tenderly squeezes it back.
No matter what David confesses next, no matter what happened next, Jace is the father of my child. Of all our children.
Any male can make a baby, but a father raises his child.
And Jace? He’ll be the most beautiful father, I know. A gentle, smiling, cuddly king of a creature with his kids, unless he has to be a beast, protecting them.
“That’s it,” David whines. “That’s all I did. Kiss you. Cuddle you. Take pictures to remind you you’re my wi—”
Jace’s free hand strikes David’s face so hard his head spins.
“Every time you say that word about my woman,” Jace snarls, “I’ll slap it out of your fucking mouth.”
“Alright, man. Alright.” David cries, holding his jaw. “She’s not mine. She’s yours. And I didn’t fu—” He chokes on another word that’ll get him killed. “I didn’t get her pregnant. It’s impossible. It’s been years since—”
“Eh!” Grant booms. “Don’t say it because I ain’t cleaning up your shit and vomit, and that’s what he’s about to make you do.”
For the first time in his life, David shuts up.
He doesn’t mansplain, boast, brag, or even whine. He presses his lips together and stares at the floor.
Every king is quiet while mine decides what to do.
I’m convinced David’s telling the truth. I can picture that night and how it ended.
As he did throughout our short marriage, he wanted the prize of a wife, he wanted everything done for him, he wanted to brag to his bruhs about what a man he is. When actually? He can’t do shit. He didn’t have the energy to commit the crime.
I can sense it.
But I feel my love for Jace even more. My heart beats for him as it does for our baby.
I want Jace to feel it in his bones, believe it with his soul. He’d never abandon me and my baby, his baby. But that little boy who was locked in a dark trunk?
He deserves to hold the light of his child in his arms.
“Do whatever you need to do, my king.” Gently, I tug his hand, pulling his lips to mine.
He gives me the most tender kiss, his palm caressing the promise in my belly before he says, “One round. One minute to be sure he knows the truth; you won, so don’t ever fuck with us again.”
One minute of what?
I watch as they drag David to a metal table, his kicking arms and legs no match for the force of my kings: Nick, Axel, Sire, and Grant hold him down, while Loch covers David’s face with a wet towel.
Jace clutches a gallon of water, poised over David’s face, warning, “It’s gonna feel like you’re dying, but you won’t. You’ll live to tell the truth.”
While he pours and pauses, flooding David’s face with water, Nash stands beside me, his lips at my hair, assuring, “He won’t die. He’ll be okay. This’ll make him give you answers. He’s not trained to endure it.”
“Trained?” I glance up at Nash. “Are you all?”
The look Nash gives me reflects the band of brothers Jace has told me about. Years of brutality, bloodshed, and bonds formed. The kings can’t be broken, and their queens can’t be conquered.
“There’s only one thing the Bratva gave them,” Nash shares stoically. “Only one way you escape torture; you’re trained to survive it.”
I marvel at what I’m witnessing. Through David’s gasping sputters, Jace slurs every violation that could’ve been done to me, torturing David into keening denial after denial.
I could be abhorred, but I’m aware. I asked for this. Jace never lied to me. He warned me that he’d be a monster to protect me.
Torture: that’s his imprint.
But he’s also shown me the kind of man he is. The one willing to lie down for me, to open for me, to share with me, to take me as much as he’s claimed me too.
Love: that’s his instinct.
Jace stops, his chest heaving like the kill is complete. It didn’t take him long as Nash mutters protectively to me, “You’re okay, our queen. No way he could lie through that. You got your answer.” He pecks my hair. “You’re having your king’s baby.”
Nash sounds as relieved for me as I feel.
Though an ounce of me feels remorse until I watch Jace remove the towel over David’s face, then carefully sit him up as the kings let him go.
David coughs while Jace pats his back hard and confirms, “You ever gonna hurt a woman again?”
David splutters, “No. No, I swear.”
Nick gets in his blubbering face. “You ever gonna tell anyone who we are?”
“Never,” he hems.
Axel joins Nick. “Are you going to drop your frivolous lawsuit against Vivian and her father’s trust?”
“Yeah. Yeah, man. As soon as you let me go.”
Axel threatens, “I know how to find you if you don’t.”
Loch saddles up beside Axel, his voice as menacing as his body. “You gonna stop being a little fucking snowflake, and go get a goddamn job that actually helps people?”
David nods sheepishly, and Grant thumps his head. “And move so far away from Charleston that you forget what Vivian looks like?”
“And start going to church and pray.” Sire sermonizes. “Because only God can save you from us now.”
“Goddamn, y’all.” Nash huffs, marching toward them. “Is this an interrogation, an intervention, or a baptism?”
But Jace turns and slowly marches my way, leaving David behind.
The beast drains from his glare while the man with warm blue eyes returns to me.
Cupping my face. Nuzzling my forehead. Swearing to my eyes.
“Like I promised, Viv; I’m the man who’ll love you, never leave you, and always protect you.” Caressing my belly, he vows into our kiss. “You and my baby.”