Chapter 26
Lena
I pace Zeke’s office while I wait. The guard, Chuck, watches me like a hawk, his eyes never leaving me, but he remains silent.
Trying to act casual, I stroll over to Zeke’s desk, trying to get a look at the plans I saw him studying earlier.
To my surprise, Chuck doesn’t react. Feeling braver, I peer a little closer.
“Snooping won’t help you. It’s already done,” Chuck says smugly.
My head snaps up to look at him, and a hateful smirk paints his face. “What’s already done?” I ask, fearing the answer.
“We blew it up, the Soaring Eagle’s pathetic excuse for a clubhouse.”
My heart stops. He can’t be telling the truth. Can he? And yet I see no trace that he’s lying. I just have to hope that it was empty at the time. Surely the guys would have rallied everyone to come after Mia and me. I hope so, and not just for our sake now. “Was it… Was anyone hurt?”
Chuck looks at me as if I’m dim-witted. “I should think so, lady, it was a fucking bomb. But why should you care? These are the people who kidnapped you, right?” he says, testing me.
He knows. He knows that Zeke is wrong, that I was willingly with the Soaring Eagles.
Which means he’s an enemy I need to watch closely.
Chuck scrutinizes me, and I know without him needing to say a word what he’s telling me—I should watch my back, he’s got his eye on me.
If he hasn’t told his suspicions to Zeke, that means he’s waiting for the right time to, or he wants something from me in return for his silence.
For now, though, we’ll both keep up the charade and play the parts that Zeke has cast us in.
“I don’t care what happens to the men who took me,” I lie. “But I don’t want innocent people to get hurt either. There might have been women and children there,” I reply, narrowing my eyes at him judgmentally.
“None of the Soaring Eagles or the people who associate with them are innocent. They like to pretend they’re better than us, with their pretentious name and holier-than-thou attitudes, but they’re not.
Besides, we didn’t start this war, they did.
And it was all for you. So if anyone is hurt, on either side, their blood is on your hands, sweetheart,” he replies snidely, folding his arms across his barrel chest.
He’s right. This is all because of me. If I hadn’t run that day, none of this would be happening.
I think of all the people who have been so kind and welcoming to me, who may be injured or worse because of me, and I feel as if I could fall into a well of sorrow and guilt.
I desperately want to ask if Cole, Rex, Judge, and Doc were there.
If any of them were hurt, but I can’t, not without confirming Chuck’s suspicions.
I push down my emotions, there’s no use worrying about them, it won’t help me.
Instead, I decide to see if I can get any information from Chuck, seeing as he’s being chatty.
“Was that what Spike wanted Zeke for, to tell him about the bomb? Or was Mary Beth in charge of that, since she knows the inside of the club?”
“Nah, Spike headed up that team. Zeke wouldn’t trust a broad with that.
However, she has proven herself useful, her and her sister.
If you ask me, Zeke’s a fool for picking you over her.
Although I’m sure he’ll have his fun with both of you, probably at the same time,” he says gleefully.
“He might even give some of us a go as a reward for our hard work,” he threatens, his eyes darkening with lust.
The sound of Chuck’s phone ringing distracts him.
I’m grateful that it cuts that particular line of conversation short.
The last thing I want to imagine is a life in which I’m expected to have sex with Zeke and Mary Beth, and especially not with his men—the thought of Zeke letting them pass me around like a sex doll makes me feel sick.
“Yes, Prez, I understood,” Chuck says before ending the call. Chuck turns to me. “Come on. The boss says you’re to get ready for dinner.”
He roughly grabs me by the elbow, leading me back toward the room I came from.
On the bed is a crimson dress, the ominous color of blood, along with a pair of high heels and a lace lingerie set in the same shade.
“Boss says you’re to wear that tonight. But you gotta shower and shave everywhere first, he wants you nice and smooth,” Chuck says suggestively, with a leer.
“And if I refuse?”
“I’ll have a lot of fun forcing you to do it,” he says, licking his lips as his eyes roam over me.
I don’t doubt him, but I have to at least try to use the little bargaining tools I have. “I’ll do it if I can see my daughter first.”
“He figured you might say that. He said that your little brat will be there for your little family dinner, but only if you comply. So, are you gonna play nice? Or are we gonna have some fun?”
I scowl at him, picking up the lingerie and the dress and stomping over to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
I’m not surprised that there’s no lock on the door.
I just hope that Chuck is afraid enough of Zeke not to try anything.
As before, someone has laid out everything I need for me while I’ve been out of the room.
To my disappointment, I’ve been provided with hair removal cream instead of a razor that I could have fashioned into a weapon.
I reluctantly get to work, doing as is asked of me.
I hope Zeke doesn’t find out whether I shaved everything or not, but I don’t risk disobeying his instructions, especially when he has Mia.
I decide that it’s best if I make myself up as Zeke likes, if he’s happy with me and believes I’m coming around, he might let his guard down enough for me to escape.
When I’m finally ready, my hair blown out and heavy sultry makeup applied, I resemble the kind of trophy wife Zeke wants me to be.
I emerge from the bathroom to find a bored Chuck waiting for me.
He nods with approval. “You scrub up well. Come on, the Prez doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
I follow him without complaint, filled with hope at the prospect of being reunited with my daughter. Once I have her in my arms, I’ll never let her go again.
My heart sinks when I enter the dining room to find Zeke alone at the head of the table.
The massive mahogany table is scarred and stained, despite the poor cleaner’s efforts to polish it.
I walk over to him, my head held high, heels clacking on the wooden floor.
If he wants me to be the lady of the manor, then that’s how I’m going to act.
My first instinct is to demand to know where Mia is.
However, I stop myself. If this is some sort of test, I need to play along.
“Welcome, Lena, you look good enough to eat,” Zeke purrs, standing up to greet me.
I try to hide my revulsion as he takes my hand and presses his cold lips to the back of it. “Thank you.”
“Leave us,” Zeke barks at Chuck, who nods and silently leaves the room. “Please, sit,” he tells me, gesturing to the seat beside him.
I do as he bids, pulling the heavy chair out and sitting down.
I look around, taking in my surroundings.
What once must have been an opulent dining room is now a crumbling shadow of its former self.
The tall mirrors along the walls are cracked and dull, reflecting a flickering, hazy light that comes from the many candles that adorn the room in brass candelabras.
Zeke probably thinks they’re romantic, but it only highlights to me that he has yet to wire this room with lighting.
The grand crystal chandeliers hang crooked and tarnished, their prisms broken or missing.
The velvet chairs are torn and sagging, some missing cushions entirely.
Heavy, dusty drapes hang limply in front of the grimy windows, blocking out the outside world.
Or more accurately, hiding from view the guards that patrol the grounds to pretend I’m not a prisoner here.
The air is thick with the smell of old wood, neglect, and something far darker—faded memories of wealth and power now long gone.
I fight the urge to look away, trapped here against my will, and can’t help but feel nothing but disdain, despair, and a deep sense of decay in this ruined relic of a former empire.
Zeke thinks he can restore this place to its former glory and, in the process, propel himself to a higher status, to become the Mafia Don he sees himself as.
If my situation weren’t so dire, it would almost be funny how pathetic this charade is.
Before I can ask about Mia, Zeke anticipates my question, answering it. “Mia will join us shortly. First, I wanted us to have a little grown-up chat.”
“Of course…” I say hesitantly, taking a sip of the red wine that Zeke pours into my glass.
“You see, I’ve heard some rumors about you and the Soaring Eagles, horrible rumors that no woman of mine would do. Rumors that, if they turned out to be true, would change everything.”
He knows about me and the guys. Mary Beth must have told him. Zeke’s voice is eerily calm, his eyes black like the ocean before a storm. If he doesn’t believe my lies, I know he’ll kill me right here.
“What rumors?” I ask, trying to suppress the tremor in my voice.
Zeke’s voice turns vicious. “You can imagine my surprise when I heard that you whored yourself to half of the clubhouse, you, the girl who refused my advances for a year, the girl who lost her virginity to me, would fuck a whole group of men within mere weeks.”
I try to hide my surprise, not that he knows about me and the guys, but that he thinks I was a virgin. I wasn’t, and I never told him I was. Not that I’m going to correct him on that now.
“Zeke, I didn’t—”
He leans forward and snatches my wrist in his hand, squeezing it tightly and yanking my arm painfully toward him. “Look me in the eye when you’re speaking.”
I force myself to look at him, tears welling up from the pain. “Please, Zeke, it’s not true. Whoever told you that is lying.”
“They’d better be. You’re my perfect, pure woman, unsullied by anyone else—one hundred percent mine.
If I find out that those men took what’s mine, I’ll castrate them,” he threatens.
He stares at me, his grip getting harder, before he finally releases me.
I pull my arm back, stroking my sore wrist. “Chuck!” he bellows, making me jump, his voice echoing off the cavernous walls.
“Yes, Prez,” Chuck says, appearing immediately. I can only assume he’s been standing outside waiting by the door this whole time.
“Fetch Mary Beth and my daughter.”
Chuck nods, leaving as quickly as he arrived to obey Zeke’s command. My heart soars with the prospect of seeing Mia, even if it means I have to face Mary Beth. Once again, under very different circumstances, my future will be determined by which of us is more believable.
I can’t give up now. I have to play my part, my life depends on it.