42. Tatum
Chapter 42
Tatum
My stomach growls, an angry reminder that I haven't eaten since lunch yesterday. The chains bite into my wrists as I shift in the uncomfortable metal chair, trying to find any position that might ease the growing ache in my shoulders.
"Hungry, dear?" One of my captors sneers from across the room. His gold tooth catches the dim light as he smirks. "Maybe if your husband pays up, you'll get a last meal."
I roll my eyes. "Thomas couldn't even remember to feed our goldfish. He let it die after three days."
"Shut up," another man barks, pacing near the door. His expensive shoes click against the concrete floor. "No one asked for your commentary."
The phone call earlier replays in my mind. Thomas's voice had been there - weak, pathetic, probably more concerned about his image than my actual safety. But I hadn't heard Dom, Connor, or Isaac. My heart sinks. If my rescue depends on Thomas...
"You know," I say, testing the chains again, "this really isn't necessary. I'm sure we could work something out that benefits everyone."
"I said shut up!" The pacing man storms over, his hand raised.
I flinch but keep my chin up. "Go ahead. Hit me again. It'll just add to the evidence when this all goes south for you."
He stops short, fist clenched. "You got a mouth on you for someone in your position."
"Yeah, well, being married to Thomas taught me how to deal with entitled assholes."
The first man laughs, then catches himself. "Boss ain't gonna like how mouthy she is."
"Boss can kiss my-" I start, but a sharp backhand cuts me off. My head snaps to the side, copper flooding my mouth.
"We've got some business to attend to… make yourself at home." The ogre laughs his minions giggling like fucking school girls right along with him.
"Don't quit your day job for stand-up comedy…" I mutter. They must have not heard me.
These fools are amateurs compared to Dom and his crew. But if Thomas is my only hope of getting out of here, I might as well get comfortable. I'm going to be here a while.
My esteemed guests soon exit, leaving me alone to my thoughts. The metallic taste of blood lingers in my mouth as I stare at the cracked concrete floor. My thoughts drift to the boy's kitchen, where just days ago I was cooking lunch and feeling more at home than I ever did in my suburban prison with Thomas.
"Damnit," I whisper, letting my head fall back.
All those years dreaming of a perfect little house with a white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and a golden retriever. What a joke. Now I'd trade all of that just to be back in that modernist mansion with three dangerous men who somehow made me feel more valued than my own husband ever did.
"Some fairy tale ending," I mutter. "Fall for three mob guys instead of one prince charming."
Because that's the real problem, isn't it? I can't imagine choosing just one of them. Each fills a different void Thomas carved out of me. Dom challenges me to be stronger. Connor makes me feel brilliant instead of stupid. Isaac reminds me I'm worth protecting.
The chain rattles as I shift positions, trying to ignore the ache in my heart that's worse than any physical pain these thugs could inflict. I've gone from being property of one man to wanting to belong to three. Maybe I really am as messed up as Thomas always claimed.
My head throbs as another hour ticks by in this dank basement. The dripping pipe in the corner keeps a steady rhythm, like a metronome counting down my remaining time. But instead of fear, all I feel is regret.
"God, I'm an idiot," I whisper to the empty room. "I had something real for the first time in my life, and I didn't even tell them."
The memory of Dom's confident smirk flashes through my mind, followed by Connor's intense gaze and Isaac's gentle touch. Each one unique, each one essential. Like puzzle pieces fitting perfectly into the broken spaces Thomas left behind.
"If I get out of here..." My voice cracks. "No, when I get out of here, I'm done playing it safe."
The chain rattles as I straighten up, ignoring the protest in my shoulders.
"I'm going to tell them everything. How Dom makes me feel fearless. How Connor sees the real me beneath all the bullshit. How Isaac's quiet strength gives me permission to be vulnerable."
A laugh bubbles up, slightly hysterical. "Hell, I'll even tell them I don't care if society thinks it's wrong to want all three of them. That those few days of freedom meant more than five years of marriage."
The door creaks somewhere above. I take a deep breath, squaring my shoulders despite the pain.
"Time to woman up, Tatum," I mutter. "You survived Thomas Cope's emotional abuse for ten years. You can survive whatever these losers dish out long enough for your guys to find you."
Because they will find me. And when they do, I'm not wasting another second pretending I don't love them all.
"Holy shit… I love them all…" I find myself saying out loud.
The revelation jars me. "I love…"
Gunfire suddenly erupts, making me jump in my chair. The chains rattle as my heart pounds against my ribs. Multiple shots, professional-sounding - not the panicked spray of someone who ran by the pawn shop and learned about guns from action movies.
"What the fuck?" Gold Tooth rushes in and goes straight to the window. More shots ring out, closer now.
"Check the perimeter!" The other guy barks, drawing his weapon. "No one gets in-"
The gunfire intensifies, and my heart races. Please, please let it be my boys. Not another rival gang here to claim me as their prize in Thomas's twisted game of mob musical chairs.
"Get her up!" Gold Tooth shouts. "We need to move-"
"Like hell you're moving me anywhere," I spit, twisting in my chains. "I'd rather take my chances with whoever's out there."
"Shut your mouth," the other goon hisses, grabbing my arm roughly. "You're our insurance policy."
"Insurance?" I laugh, the sound bordering on hysterical. "Against what? Thomas's remarkable ability to fuck up every business deal he touches? Good luck with that."
An explosion rocks the building, and I smell smoke. The men curse, arguing about their escape route. I strain my ears, desperately hoping to hear a familiar voice among the chaos.
"If that's who I think it is," I say, making both men turn, "you really should run while you can."