Chapter 44
LAUREL
Darkness gave way to pain. Someone was inside my head with a hammer, trying to break out of my skull. I was on my feet but bent over, and my head was cradled in one hand. I blinked my eyes open, wincing at the light.
It was so bright, everything was white. As I tried to focus, I noticed the texture. Fabric. A skirt. No, wait—a dress.
Oh, fuck.
I stood slowly, tearing my gaze from the wedding dress I wore so I could reel around. Time slowed when I found him across from me in the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter.
Ryan wore an elegant black tuxedo, the bow tie undone at his neck. There was a glass of champagne in his left hand and a silver band on his third finger. I looked down at my own hand, horrified to discover the band beside the engagement ring there.
“Laurel?” He asked it with concern, like we’d been mid-conversation and I’d suddenly stopped talking.
I dropped the glass of champagne I wasn’t aware I’d been holding, and it shattered on the floor, splattering everywhere.
“What’s wrong?” He took a step toward me, but I backed away.
“What the fuck just happened?”
He looked totally lost. “What are you talking about?”
“How did I get in this dress?” My head was going to explode. “Why are you wearing a ring?”
“We got married this afternoon.” He tilted his head. “You don’t remember?”
No.
I kept my distance from him until the kitchen table dug into my back, preventing me from retreating any further. He launched forward and trapped me, capturing my waist in his hands.
“Hey, it’s okay.” His soothing words did fuck-all to calm me down.
Icy pinpricks needled up my body, sharp and debilitating, until they reached the back of my neck. “What have you done to me?”
“I made you my wife. You said yes, Laurel.”
No, I repeated. I tried to shout it at him, but my vocal cords refused to work. Tears of horror welled in my eyes, but he didn’t notice. His fingertips brushed over my cheek as he cupped my face, and his thumb slid across my lips to keep them still.
Like he expected me to scream, and he didn’t want to hear it.
“Give your new husband a kiss,” he ordered.
I was locked inside my body, unable to escape, but before I had to comply, a dark figure burst into the kitchen.
Plavko’s eyes were extra furious as his gaze swept over me in the wedding dress, and then he turned his glare to his boss. “It’s done.”
Ryan dropped his hold of me and issued a sound of disgust. He did not like this revelation.
With his touch gone, I was able to speak. “What’s done?”
He ignored me, his focus only on Plavko. “I’ll meet you in my office in one minute.”
Once our bodyguard had his orders, he took off, and Ryan’s attention returned to me. His expression was hard and emotionless as he appeared to consider his options. Then he grasped my elbow, squeezing painfully and forcing me to keep up with him as he began to move.
My skirt billowed with each step down the hall, into his room, and deeper into his closet.
“You’re hurting me,” I gasped.
He didn’t care. His free hand punched in the numbers to the safe, turned the handle, and extracted the gun.
“What are you doing?” I cried.
He’s going to kill you.
When he locked his gaze on mine, I met the dark, intimidating expression I’d seen back at the doctor’s office after my relapse. My legs went boneless, and I nearly collapsed. Only his harsh grip kept me upright.
“I’m finishing something I should have done a while ago,” he muttered. The gun was tucked into the waistband of his pants, and we were on the move again, heading to his office.
“Ryan, stop. Please.” Sick to my stomach, I choked back the bile rising in my throat. “Tell me what’s happening.” We were almost to the office door. “Tell me what I did wrong.”
He put the brakes on so quickly that I slammed into him. “You think this gun is for you?”
Wasn’t it? “All I know is I want you to let me go.”
His face contorted like this was unexpected and he wasn’t sure how to proceed. His gaze drifted away, deep in thought, until he found a solution. “Only if you promise to go back to your room right now.”
What? If the gun wasn’t for me . . .
That meant there was someone in his office who it was intended for.
“Will you do as I asked?” he said.
“Yes.” I hoped my lie was convincing.
It must have been, because he released me. He stood just beside the door, waiting for me to go. I dug deep, playing the only card I had left.
I swallowed so hard, it was audible. “I love you.”
My statement stunned him senseless, just as I’d hoped, and I used it to charge through the office door before he could stop me.
Plavko stood at the back of the room and startled at my entrance. A simple folding chair had been set up in front of the desk, and a large man occupied it, his hands cuffed behind his back with a thick band of plastic.
My dress swished as I marched forward, needing to see the face of the man my new husband had decided to hold captive.
He had dark brown hair that was slightly longer on top, a short beard, and appeared to be in his late thirties. Handsome, strong, dangerous-looking. His rich, deep-brown-eyed gaze started at the base of my dress and worked its way up until it met my eyes.
There was no expression on his face, but I got the sense that was because he was guarding it. This man knew me, but I had no immediate recognition of him.
“Who are you?” My voice was strong when I felt none of it.
His gaze left mine, snapping to Ryan when he stepped into view, and the man’s expression was pure malice. The atmosphere in the room was taut, full of rage that seeped from every inch of the two men as they glared at each other.
The man’s jaw flexed, like he was holding back the words he wanted to unleash, but when his gaze returned to me, his dark expression faded. Worry filled his warm eyes. “Are you all right?”
Out of nowhere, Plavko stepped forward and sank his fist into the man’s stomach. The impact of it was sickening, and I stifled my scream while the defenseless man groaned and swore.
“I thought my man made it clear,” Ryan said, “you don’t get to talk to her.”
Tension was spiraling, winding recklessly tight and threatening to snap at any moment. I couldn’t stand being in the dark for another second. I’d been dark for too long already.
I glared at Ryan, who looked more like a stranger than he ever had. “Tell me who he is right now.”
“You don’t tell me what to do,” he snarled, his voice going into the scary, authoritative tone from before, the one that had forced me to black out. “I tell you what to do, Laurel. Leave. Now.”
My body moved independent of my mind. Everything was completely beyond my control. The simple act of him saying my name was an order I could not disobey. I wanted to speak, to protest, to stand my ground.
But my feet moved, one and then the other, forcing me toward the door. I willed my arm to reach out and grab hold of something as I was propelled from the room, but it would not do as I asked.
I screamed against the possession, but nothing came out. The man in the chair watched me, following my path until I began to pass by—
“I found you, L.”
His words disrupted whatever spell had overtaken me, letting me pull to a stop, and I gasped in my newfound freedom.
God, his intense gaze. It burned all the way through me. He wasn’t familiar outside of the flash of a memory.
But that single memory was enough.