51. Chapter 51
Rosalina
The trip back from the safe house was too fast. A short ride to the airport and no more than two hours in Nico’s private jet wasn’t long enough. I’d spent the entire time wrapped up in them in the giant bed on the plane, but it left me aching for just five more minutes.
My heart shriveled up like a raisin and died in my chest. Pain rooted around, digging deeper into every part of my being.
This was bullshit. Worse than any physical pain I’d ever experienced.
Every step I took away from where they’d dropped me off on the deserted road seemed to grow exponentially, making inches feel like miles.
A gulf of wretched sadness opened up inside me, leaving me an empty, hollow husk.
I forced my bare feet across the pavement and refused to look back.
If I did, I’d end up back in that car curled up with the pack that was starting to feel like home.
With my eyes set on the guardhouse at the end of the causeway, I dragged myself away.
My father’s island compound was a stronghold.
I’d be safe here, but it was also a prison.
It always had been, but right now I needed to stay alive.
So, I put one foot in front of the other.
Nico arranged to have new clothes, shoes, and a cell phone ready for me as soon as we landed at the airport, but I refused to take them. There’s no way my escape story would hold up if I showed up looking pristine. I could take a little pain if it kept all of us safe.
The nondescript building came closer, but the familiar black SUV was absent from the parking space beside it.
Where was the guard? Hopefully, Diego was on duty because at least he’d be happy to see me.
Although, he may not believe the lies I’d have to tell.
The thought of Maria’s French toast had me picking up my pace, but even that was a reminder of Ollie and what I was walking away from.
As I reached the small building, I noticed all the lights were off, and no one was inside.
There was nothing to greet me but crickets.
Fucking hell. I couldn’t even call the house to get picked up because the door was locked.
It was a long ass walk from here, and I still didn’t have any fucking shoes.
In all the years my father lived here, I’d never seen a day when the guardhouse wasn’t manned. Even if they were sometimes napping on the job.
The hair on the back of my neck prickled with unease. What had happened while I was gone?
I had all the time in the world to wonder about it, and to pine over the pack that never was, as I made my way across the flat bridge and up into the trees.
At least there were no wild animals to maul me to death here.
Just chipper little birds fluttering through the tropical flowers and the occasional lizard.
That didn’t stop me from jumping at every sound.
Each step toward my father’s house wound my anxiety a little tighter.
Nico told me my father would protect me. I just had to get there. Maybe that hope blinded me to the possibility that things had changed while I’d been away.
Sweat streamed down my face as the wall surrounding the house came into view. Guards were stationed around the perimeter, and I raised my hand to wave. I knew everyone who worked for my father, so imagine my surprise when two strangers approached with guns drawn.
“Halt! Stay where you are.”
I threw my hands up. “Whoa, whoa, down, boys. I live here.”
One of the men poked me in the chest with the muzzle of his rifle.
What the fuck?
“State your name,” the other guard said.
“I’m Rosalina Reyes. Who the fuck are you?” I side-stepped the barrel of the gun and put my hands on my hips.
The guards glanced at each other, both looking confused.
“I said, I live here. Radio it in. Are you new or something?” Antagonizing the guy with an assault rifle may not be the smartest move, but I was hot, tired, and my feet hurt. What else was new at this point in my life?
Once this was over, I was going to track down Claudia and have a spa day. Those assholes better not have hurt her.
One of the guards turned his back and mumbled into his radio. After a moment of conversation through their earpieces, the gun-happy guy motioned with his AK toward the house. “Come with us.”
I rolled my eyes. “Right, whatever you say.” I was already going to the stupid house, they didn’t need to threaten me with a good time.
Mr. Trigger Happy kept his rifle aimed at my back as we walked up the cobble drive, and as I rounded the fountain, the front door flew open, and Lorenzo stepped out.
Well, shit.
Was not expecting that.
His face was green with old bruises, and he looked tired with purple shadows under his eyes, but he was still the same old slimy weasel as always. His being here changed nothing. I would stick to the plan even if it made me sick to think about.
I turned and stared at the guy with the gun. “You can go now. As you can see, I made it to the house.”
Anger pinched his features, and slowly the barrel lowered. I didn’t care if he was mad. He was rude, and I’d be telling my father about it as soon as I got inside. Maybe after a shower and a nap.
As I approached the door, Lorenzo’s scowl deepened.
“Fancy seeing you here.” His words were slurred, and spittle oozed from the corner of his mouth.
What the fuck was his problem?
“Uh, thanks for the welcome party,” I said, not sure why he was standing there blocking the door. “Can I go in?” Why I had to ask this idiot if I could enter my own home was annoying, but whatever it took, I guessed.
He stepped aside, and I walked through the door.
The house smelled wrong. Where was the scent of expensive cigars, coffee, and fresh baking?
I was used to that, but instead it was like someone had dumped a pile of unwashed clothes—worn too many days in a row—in the middle of the hall. My nose wrinkled at the affront.
The door banged shut behind me, and I spun around. Lorenzo still hadn’t said anything else, which was strange. His face seemed crooked somehow. Alphas, even gross ones, healed incredibly fast. Something serious must’ve happened to leave bruises like that.
I started to ask him about it, but remembered I didn’t care, so instead I asked the more important question. “Where’s my father?”
Lorenzo just scowled at me. Fucking weirdo. I didn’t actually need an answer. My dad would be around here somewhere. So, I left him standing at the door with his dick in his hand, figuratively, and ventured deeper into the house.
“Maria,” I called toward the kitchen. No response, so I peeked in. The lights were off, and nothing was cooking. Maybe she’d gone to the store. It wasn’t her normal time for that, but not out of the question.
When I got to my father’s office, I knocked on the solid wood door, but again nothing.
None of this was adding up. Where was everyone?
I pushed open the door and the whole room was wrong.
My father’s massive mahogany desk had been replaced with some metal and glass contraption.
All the shelves were empty of his leather-bound books, and in their place were random knickknacks. My heart began to race.
What in the hell was happening?
I backed out of the office, trying to calm my shaking hands.
Was I in the right house?
Everything seemed off. I ran down the hall past the empty offices that my father’s pack occupied when they were alive, past the barren rooms that they’d lived in seven years ago, to the only other place I’d imagine that my father would be.
I threw open his bedroom door, and it crashed against the wall.
Instead of the heavy dark wood furniture and burgundy accents, the far wall was covered in floor to ceiling mirrors.
A giant disco ball spun over the top of the shiny chrome bed frame dominating the center of the room, draped in yellow and lime green linens.
The decor was certainly a choice. It lacked the old-world charm that was steeped into this house’s bones.
But by far the worse thing were the naked strangers in the bed, tag-teaming what looked like a bedraggled omega.
My eyes… burn them with bleach.
The scent was cloying, and I gagged on it. The air was drenched in humid sex and sweat. I must have been too busy retching to notice Lorenzo coming up behind me.
“Stupid bitch.”
As Lorenzo’s slurred voice reached me, a flash of movement had me turning to face him, but too late to avoid the hammer fist that landed against my temple.
The last thing I remembered was a woman’s scream right before my head hit the pretty terracotta floor, and I blacked out.