Code Name: Firebolt (Infinitum #6)

1. Fiona

Chapter 1

Fiona

I’m standing in the middle of a crowded room, screaming at the top of my lungs, and not a single person notices. They carry on laughing and socializing like I don’t exist. At least, that’s how it feels. Of course, I would never voice it out loud. Not without repercussions.

Boisterous laughter, clinking of dinnerware, and the hum of a private dinner group fill the air. It’s a joyous occasion, after all, considering I’m marrying the son of an elite doctor this weekend. Yet, I go through the motions with my memorized lines, laughing on cue and pretending I’m having the time of my life. The perfect lead actress in a meticulously crafted production. There are consequences if I go off script. If I stop pretending, well, there’s no point. I’ll end up right back where I started.

My handsome fiancé, Andrew, squeezes my hand and smiles at me, reminding me I’m not completely unhappy or alone in this performance. Our parents arranged our marriage when we were children, unbeknownst to either of us until we were already dating. My father, Lawrence Edgewater, heads the Church of the Infinitum for the state of California. Andrew’s father, Dr. Roger Chen, is the current head of Insidatrex, a pharmaceutical company that funds the church.

My marriage to Andrew makes perfect sense. It will ensure that both families remain in power like some fifteenth century business arrangement. All that’s missing are the goats.

Andrew and I both attended UCLA. He was pre-med. I majored in computer sciences, which is the only true decision my father allowed me.

Andrew insisted we wait until he became a resident doctor before we got married. He and his father didn’t want any distractions while he went through med school, but even though we were technically dating, I would go months without seeing him. When I did, it was for one night, and we would have sex as a rebellion against the rules our families enforced upon us. I never looked forward to those nights. I enjoyed spending time with him, but our intimate moments were stale and lacked any kind of excitement on my part. It never lasted long enough for me to moan and scream like they did in the romance movies I would watch as a teenager. Getting caught with those contraband movies was another hard lesson in the importance of following the rules. Yet, I could never seem to stop testing them, even though it didn’t end well for me. Call it stupidity, lack of self preservation, or sheer boredom, I always pushed the boundaries from time to time.

Andrew seems to have a good time, so my wants are irrelevant. It’s my duty to keep him happy. It’s all part of my expected performance, and my delivery is flawless, because it has to be. Disappointing my father is unfathomable.

I’m lucky that Andrew and I get along, but we would have been married even if we didn't. I tell him I love him, because it’s expected, but I’m not sure if I even know what love is supposed to be like. He’s attractive and has a beautiful smile. He’s tall and muscular and has a great sense of humor. But I’m pretty sure the only thing that bonds us is our devotion to the church and our desire to make our families proud.

Our prescribed friends at the high-end restaurant push in their chairs as they buzz with excitement, but my anxiety kicks up to level ten thousand. Andrew hands the server the billfold and takes the tequila shot from her and passes it to me. The joint bachelor and bachelorette party is about to split for the night, and I don’t care if it makes me the clingiest girl on the planet. The thought of leaving Andrew’s side makes my stomach turn. I enjoy being social, but I’ve never been a party girl. Staying out past midnight holds zero appeal.

I did everything I could to avoid having a bachelorette, but my stepmom got a call last minute from my former best friend, Deanna, whose father ranks much higher than mine in the church leadership. Deanna is recently divorced and embroiled in a cheating scandal, but my stepmother would drop dead before she said no to someone who could heighten her status.

Deanna and I were inseparable from elementary school through high school, but after a few years at separate colleges, we grew apart. We stopped calling each other for birthdays and holidays, and once she got married, I blended into the background of her life. She would stare right through me like I didn’t exist. It’s my life’s theme after all.

“It’s just one night. Have some fun. Let loose. In two days, you’ll be my wife and we can be homebodies together for the rest of our lives,” Andrew says.

I laugh and shake my head at him. He’s a research doctor and I’m a supervisor in the cybersecurity department at Reilly Tech. “We don’t have time to be homebodies.”

“That’s true. But I promise you won’t have to party.”

“I’ll take it.”

He grins and kisses the back of my hand. Deanna strolls over and I try not to groan. She’s even more wild than I remember, which is saying something. I need to be on my guard, otherwise I’ll end up wasted and nursing a hangover for the next week.

“Alright you two, time to go.” She moves me aside and wraps her arms around my fiancé, hugging him like they’ve been best friends for years, even though they just met tonight. Her painted-on dress rides up and my stomach stiffens at the way his large hand fits on her exposed lower back. I’m not blind to the way every woman looks at Andrew. I’ve been able to handle it, because Andrew is the quiet type like me. Cheating would ruin his career and his family, so he would never dare, but something about the way he touches her sets me on edge.

Deanna is smart, beautiful, and radiates seduction like a perfume. Growing up, she was always the center of attention. It never bothered me since being in the spotlight gives me hives. I tug on the thick shoulder straps of my sensible off-white dress that covers my assets and flares at the hip to just below my knees. Andrew told me I looked pretty, but a part of me wishes he would have told me how sexy I was and refused to leave the house until he’d had his way with me. I learned long ago that it’s not something I should ever expect from him, but a girl can dream.

Deanna whispers something to him and he chuckles, his eyes glued to her face as she backs away. Has he ever looked at me like that?

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of our girl,” she says, taking my hand and beaming at me.

Andrew’s brother and friends ogle Deanna as they haul him away, but he smiles at me and I take a deep breath.

“To the limo!” Deanna squeals. Two other girls I know from church, Rachel and Amy, follow us through the front door.

“I’m so glad we’re doing this. I’ve missed you,” Deanna says as she squeezes my arm.

Can she tell my smile is fake? I guess she wouldn’t care. “Me too.”

As soon as we pull away from the curb, Deanna grabs my hair and pulls out my braid, letting my blonde locks fall over my shoulders.

“This is your last night of freedom. Let’s make it count.” I frown at her as the others ooh and ahh at the tiny strip of shimmery white fabric she pulls from a duffel bag that was waiting in the limo.

“What’s that?” I ask as Rachel teases my hair and murders my flyaways with hairspray.

“Your dress for the evening. Take off that monstrosity this instant. I won’t stand for it,” Deanna says.

My eyes bulge as Amy unzips my dress. I clutch at her hand, but it’s too late. Everyone stops and stares at the countless scars on my exposed back.

Deanna recovers first. “Don’t worry, the dress will cover them. Hands up.” Amy and Rachel share a concerned look, but they wouldn’t dare speak up.

“This isn’t necessary,” I say, my voice coming out strained as I tamp down the panic. She shoves the dress over my head and down my back.

“Take this. I promise this will be the best night of your life,” Deanna says. I stare at the shot of dark liquid in front of me and knock it back, coughing as it burns down my throat.

Twenty minutes later, I’m shoved out of the limo and gasp at my reflection in the window. They put dark eye makeup on me and made me look like… Deanna .

I gape as she chuckles. “I always said you were a knockout. Now let’s dance.”

I stumble like Bambi on my borrowed stilettos, holding on to Deanna and Rachel, who haul me into the club. The thumping beat and flashing lights overwhelm my senses, and soon we’re tucked away in a private VIP area as Deanna forces another burning drink at me.

I’m yanked to the dance floor and bop my head to the beat, my muscles relaxing as the alcohol takes effect.

“Just relax,” Deanna coos, and I swallow down another shot. I drop my shoulders and sway along with her encouragement. Her grin widens as she glances behind my shoulder and she spins me to face a man who must have walked straight off a movie set. Dark hair, blue eyes, tattoos, dimples, swagger and an easy grin. My kryptonite .

“Hi, gorgeous.” He reads the sash draped across my body. “Bachelorette, huh? Congrats. I’m Travis. Can I buy you a drink?”

A gentle nudge, and I’m taking Travis’ extended hand. He leads me to the bar and my legs shake as we reach it. I grip the edge of the counter to steady myself. My vision dims and the next thing I know I’m on the dancefloor in Travis’ thick arms. What is happening?

I get lost in the flickering lights and the thumping beat as everything fades to blissful darkness.

Did someone stuff my mouth with cotton? I smack my lips, trying to urge moisture into my mouth. I squint my eyes and frown at the unfamiliar surroundings. Heavy blackout curtains cover the window, but sunlight peaks through the bottom.

I push back the sheet, then yank it back over my naked chest with a gasp. What the hell? A groan claws its way up my throat as my head pounds.

I’m alone in a hotel room. It’s not a roach motel, but it’s not the high-end variety I’m accustomed to. The digital alarm clock on the bedside table changes to two in the afternoon and another gasp flies out of my mouth. My wedding rehearsal begins in an hour. I find my discarded clothes on the chair by the window. I tug on my underwear and dress, frowning at the heels. My phone sits on the dresser and I sigh in relief when it turns on with 32% battery life left, only for my lungs to freeze again at the dozens of texts from my stepmom. My mouth drops open in horror at the photos I don’t remember sending Andrew last night at 2:43 a.m.

“Oh my God,” I whisper. The floor drops out from under me as I scroll through dozens of photos of me and Travis from last night. We’re kissing in most of them, but there’s one of me naked on the hotel bed. My eyes aren’t open, but the angle is from between my legs.

My stomach bottoms out and I dash to the bathroom, heaving gallons of liquid into the toilet bowl. After a few desperate breaths, I slam the handle, wincing at the loud echo.

Panic claws at my chest.

The phone rings and my father's enforcer, Rafael, pops onto the screen. My hand trembles as I answer.

“Where are you?” he barks.

“I–I don’t know.”

“Hold on, I’m checking your location now that your phone is on.”

“What’s happening?” I whimper.

“You fucked up. I don’t know if I can protect you this time.”

“Andrew–” I cut off when another bout of nausea takes over and I wipe my mouth on the towel.

“He can’t help you.”

“Raf…”

He sighs. “I know. I’ll do what I can, but you’re gonna have to be brave for what comes next.” His tone is soft, and that above anything else lets me know how serious this is. It’s not just a misunderstanding I can explain away. I went wildly off script, and the consequences are about to knock on my door.

“I’m in the elevator.” The line goes dead and I take the few minutes of freedom I have left to gather my wits. My hair is a wild mess, like someone has been running their hands through it. I never looked like this after a night with Andrew. Mascara runs down my cheeks and I wipe it away with a dampened washcloth. I’ll face my punishment with whatever dignity I have left. I use the toilet and wipe another cloth between my legs with trembling hands. Relief floods me when nothing feels different, which makes little sense. Why else would Travis drug me?

I startle as Rafael bangs on the door, and I open it, still shaking. I’m met with the cold hard stare of a military trained bruiser. He runs his gaze over me with appreciation, and I wrap my arms around my middle. He grabs my wrist and yanks me down the hall. I have no choice but to go with him. His powerful hands weren’t always so rough. There was a time when they were gentle as they moved over and in my body. Their brutality overshadows those gentle caresses now.

“You’ve dishonored your family, Ona. This is a nightmare,” he mutters in the elevator. I don’t dare open my mouth.

“If you wanted to fuck someone else, you could have come to me. I would have been far more discreet.” Frustration laces his tone, but I’m not stupid enough to think it means he cares about me.

“Just like you were with my stepmom?”

His grip tightens on my wrist. “I’ll let that slide, since you’re clearly out of your damn mind.”

He tosses me in the back of a dark SUV and we make the quiet trip to my parent’s house in the suburbs. We enter the garage through the back entrance. I take off my heels and sink to my knees on the cold concrete floor stained with blood and other bodily fluids.

Raf slams the door shut and my mind stills when my father appears from the stairs leading up to the house. This time, my stepmother is with him.

“I–” She slaps me across the face. Hard . Stars sparkle in my vision and my throbbing head reels as I grip my cheek, staring at her in shock.

“You ungrateful whore,” she seethes, spittle flying from her mouth. I flinch, cowering away from her.

“I didn’t–”

“Don’t you dare deny it. We all saw the evidence. Have you no shame?”

My father puts his hands on her shoulders and she turns away in a huff, staring at the wall with her hands on her hips.

My lips tremble as I meet his gaze. “Daddy…” I whisper.

A hint of tenderness flits through his features. “What were you thinking?”

“I swear I don’t remember–” he puts his hand up and I stop speaking.

“You’ve put me in an impossible position.”

Tears flit down my cheeks. Shame overwhelms me, and I lower my chest to the floor and spread my hands out in supplication. “I accept my punishment and humbly beg your forgiveness.”

His soft fingers bring my chin up, and I move to my hands and knees.

“I’m sorry, buttercup,” he whispers. “You’ve left me no choice.” My lower lip trembles and he nods at Raf behind me. I’ve been here before. Anytime I went off script, even a little, Rafael doled out my punishment because my father couldn’t bear to lay a hand on me.

Raf opens the wardrobe in the corner, and I wince at the dreadful creak of the hinges. He approaches with a hunting knife in one hand and a chain whip in the other, making my stomach tighten.

The blood freezes in my veins when my father takes the knife from him. When he meets my gaze, any form of tenderness is gone.

“Daddy?” I plead again as he moves behind me. Raf kneels in front of me and lowers my dress to my waist and unhooks my bra. I stare into his eyes, oddly soft as the cool blade in my father’s hand presses against my upper back.

“As punishment for your crimes against the Church of the Infinitum, I hereby excommunicate you. From this point forward, you are no longer a part of this family or community.”

The blade digs in and I cry out, falling against Raf, who keeps me upright with a firm grip on my upper arms. My father walks towards the stairs, not looking at me once, and hands the knife to my stepmother. She looks at him, her eyebrows raised, and he nods at her before climbing the stairs. She stares at me, not moving until the door thuds shut.

Her smile turns cruel and I let the tears go. Never in a million years did I think my father would abandon me. Raf tenses in front of me as Marissa moves behind me.

“I’ve always dreamed of the day the princess falls.”

The blade, now warm and wet with my blood, presses just below the cut my father made and I wince.

“Not so special anymore, you little bitch. Not even Raf will touch you now.”

Raf’s lips press together and I let out a sob. Not because I’ll miss him, but because Raf has been around since I was born. The only life I’ve ever known is slipping through my fingers, and for what? This time I did nothing, but of course nobody will listen. They never have.

She digs the blade into my skin, making three more slashes and screaming in rage before the knife clatters to the ground while I suck air in through my teeth. I’ll die before I let her see the pain she inflicts. She stops next to Raf, but I keep my gaze on the floor as warmth spreads down my back.

“If you help her, I’ll make sure Lawrence knows what you did.”

Raf stiffens, and Marissa stomps up the stairs, slamming the door shut behind her.

Raf curses under his breath, and I meet his soft gaze. It’s one I used to get lost in before that awful night I found him with Marissa.

“I’ll go easy,” he says, pressing his lips to my forehead. I crumple to the ground without his support.

He picks up the whip, and I enter the place in my mind where I become the audience member and whatever happens is to someone else. Some other sad person who fucked up and is facing consequences she never dreamed possible. After ten excruciating lashes, the agony ends.

A slow whine escapes me, like a pitiful wounded animal as Raf cleans up my cuts, sewing shut the ones that need it. He moves with quick efficiency as I go numb to the pain. A soft shirt falls over my head and he tugs it to my waist and pulls off the rest of my dress. It flops to the floor in a gruesome, wet mess. He puts his hands under my armpits and lifts me, helping me to step into a pair of sweats. Next comes a pair of flip-flops, and he’s holding my head to his chest.

Tears drip onto the top of my head and I swear the world is ending because I didn’t think he was capable of that kind of emotion.

He tilts my chin up and presses his lips to mine. The urge to push him away is overwhelming, but it will only pull on my fresh wounds.

“I love you, Fiona. It’s fine if you don’t believe me, but it’s true. I’ll find a way out of this. Be strong, my pet.”

The fog recedes and I stare into my torturer’s eyes, my reality slamming home. I curl my lip back and say the words I’ve been holding back for years. “Go fuck yourself.”

I shove away from him, biting my lip to keep from crying out and leave the basement. He doesn’t follow me and I let out a whimper of pain as I round the corner, finding the Mercedes Andrew bought me as an engagement gift. Two pink suitcases, my toiletries bag, and two matching duffels with my name embroidered on the side sit in the backseat. All gifts from Andrew. I’ve always hated pink.

There’s a note on the windshield, and I grab it, trying to ignore the throbbing in my back.

I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you need. Best of luck with him. - A

A sob explodes from my chest. It’s so clinical, so matter of fact. Just like Andrew. On numb legs, I climb into the car. My phone rests on the passenger seat and my keys dangle from the ignition. The bright yellow house key with the heart on it is absent.

My phone dings and I find a text from Raf. I’ve deposited money in your account. This is your cousin Rosalee’s number. That’s all I can do. I’m sorry.

Rosalee? She and my uncle left the church when I was little. They’re dead to the family. And so am I.

I let out a gut wrenching sob. The sun sinks and I startle at a tap at the window. It’s one of Dad’s guards, holding a machine gun across his chest.

“You need to leave the premises immediately.”

I sigh and turn the key in the ignition. Once my phone connects to the car, I dial Rosalee’s number and drop the curtain on my final performance. Only there’s no deafening roar of applause, just the crunch of the gravel under my tires and the sobs breaking through from somewhere deep in my soul. Bravo, Fiona. Bravo .