Chapter 49
Samantha
The bedroom door opens. Talula runs her cold gaze over me. “It’s time.”
I walk stiffly to the door. My voice comes out scratchy as I beg, “How is my daughter?”
Her lip curls in a sneer, but that’s the only answer I get.
The desperation makes me grab her silky white sleeve. “Please, is she okay?”
Her eyes narrow on my hand and I release her. “She’s fine. And she’ll stay that way as long as you behave yourself.”
I swallow. If I had any doubts whether I could get help from her those are squashed. She is no Celia. I follow her out the door and down the stairs.
My feet freeze as I suddenly get a vision of my future. A future of faking smiles in public on the arm of a monster, one where there’s beatings, confinement and rape in private. A future where I have limited access to my daughter because she’s used as a punishment and reward system.
And as she grows up and sees the truth, how will Michael control her?
How will he stop her from exposing what happens in his house?
Will he chain her up, too? This almost breaks me.
I can’t do it. I can’t walk her into this living nightmare.
But I also can’t see another option. At least this will give me time to try and escape again.
But then I think of his warning. No second chances.
Another escape attempt will sign our death warrants.
The only way out is if he’s dead.
Talula shoves me forward and this time my feet move.
She leads me into the living room where Michael is standing in front of an unlit stone fireplace in a suit.
An ancient priest is by his side. There are a half a dozen armed men sitting or standing around the room.
Italian mafia by the looks of them. These must be Amato’s men, here to protect his investment.
So, Michael is expecting trouble.
I eye all the firepower in the room and send up a little prayer that Killian hasn’t found me yet. If he walks into this house, he won’t be walking out. And that would surely kill me.
My breathing picks up as I take my place in front of Michael. I stare at the floor, wishing it would open up and swallow me.
Michael grabs my chin in a rough grip and forces me to look at him. His eyes are burning with triumph, his lips curled in satisfaction.
I can’t believe I didn’t see this demon behind the human mask he wears. I keep my expression neutral. Keep the fire out of my eyes.
He nods and then removes his hand. “Go ahead, Father.”
The priest begins, his eyes milky, his voice shaky.
I can’t hear his words over the blood whooshing in my ears as I stare at Michael, the numbness giving way to a hurricane of emotion.
Helplessness. Rage. Terror. Grief. It’s a tempest in my body, making me dizzy and hot.
I clutch my damp hands together to keep myself from leaping forward and digging my nails into his face.
I’m shocked that I’m capable of such hatred. Such venom. I’m learning something about myself in this moment. As much as I enjoy helping people heal, I would also enjoy tearing this man apart with my bare hands. Some would call it revenge, but to me it would feel like justice.
Just then the heavy oak front doors burst open.
Killian strolls through them dressed in black combat pants, heavy boots and a black, long-sleeved henley.
His eyes find mine immediately. They’re burning with a lethal, controlled fire.
His jaw is locked, a muscle jumping beneath the skin as rage coils through him, and I know he’s already decided.
Anyone standing between us is just an obstacle. Including Michael.
A relieved whoosh of breath escapes me and then everything moves in slow motion.
Michael yanks me behind him. The mafia men leap up and point their assault rifles at Killian.
He stalks deeper into the room, ignoring the weapons pointed at him, his eyes locked on mine. And he’s alone.