CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE CHLOE
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHLOE
NOW
The air leaves my lungs, making it impossible to drag in a breath as I stare up into cold blue eyes that I once found comfort in.
I’ve spent the last seven hours driving. How could he possibly have found me so quickly? Unless he was following me the whole time…
Fuck.
I was so careful.
I checked my mirrors religiously, making sure the same cars weren’t following me, even going as far as taking the long way around to my destination.
But it wasn’t enough.
Damon crowds me, and I have no choice but to step back into the restroom, and the second the door swings shut, he flicks the lock.
For the second time in twenty-four hours, a Lombardi has me trapped, and this time I don’t have a chance of escape.
I don’t have a backup plan.
No one knows where I am.
He could kill me and no one would ever know, they’d just think I was hiding somewhere, starting a new life.
“Where did you think you’d be able to hide that I wouldn’t find you, Chloe?” He spits my name like it’s personally offended him, and my chest tightens at the sound.
I’ll never understand how we got here. How we went from best friends to enemies overnight. Because he’s never explained it to me.
One day we were playing in the garden, and the next he wouldn’t say a word to me, wouldn’t even look at me.
“What do you want?” I whisper.
“You and I are going to take a little trip back to Miami, and then you’re going to answer all the questions we have about Kingston fucking Beaumont.”
His name takes my breath away. I’ve made it a point not to think about him, because just like when I think about the brothers, it fucking hurts when the memories of King fill my mind.
“I don’t know anything about him,” I reply, forcing my voice to remain even. “I haven’t seen or heard from him in a decade.”
“Liar,” he growls, advancing on me quicker than I can retreat until my back hits the wall and his tattooed hand wraps around my throat.
His hold doesn’t make it impossible to breathe, but the warning is there. My life is in his hands, and if I want to walk out of here alive, I need to do what he says.
The problem is, I’m telling the truth.
“I’m not lying. I called him when I escaped, and he helped me start a new life, but that was it. I don’t even have a way to contact him.”
Okay, that’s a lie. I do. But I wouldn’t use it unless my life depended on it because he made it perfectly clear how little he wanted to do with me when he disappeared in the dead of night, leaving behind an envelope of cash, plane tickets, and instructions on how to get to New York.
“How did you know how to get in contact with him? You left with nothing but the clothes on your back, so there’s no way you just happened to have his number on you.”
“Dad made me memorize it when I was ten. He said if something ever happened to him that I should call King. That he would help me.” The truth tumbles out before I can stop it.
But maybe if I give him everything I know, he’ll let me go.
It’s a stupid thought, but if there’s a time for wishful thinking, it’s when you’re being held against your will by someone you once considered your best friend.
“Why would he do that?” he snaps. “That was before the accident. Before he killed my mother.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to defend him, to point out that they were ambushed, that there was nothing he could have done to protect Caroline. But it’s pointless. The brothers’ opinions of Kingston were poisoned by their father, and there’s no point in trying to change that.
“I don’t know,” I whisper. “All I know is I was broken and bleeding, and the only number I knew other than yours and Ronan’s was Kingston’s, and I called the only one of the three of you that I knew wasn’t part of holding me captive and forcing me to watch my parents be tortured and killed.”
Every word hurts, the memories so painful my chest aches with every breath. There’s no amount of therapy that could make the past any less horrific, and the last few days have been a constant reminder of all the things I’ve desperately tried to forget.
“King picked me up from the gas station and took me to his penthouse in Atlanta. He had a private doctor come to see me, and then I slept for two days. The only reason I woke up was because King found me in a pool of blood and panicked. There was so much of it. I thought I was dying.” I choke out the words. “At the time, I wished I was.”
Tears roll down my cheeks, and I don’t bother trying to catch them. He wanted the truth. He wanted to know what happened after I escaped, and I’m not going to sugarcoat it for him.
He can have every detail of how I almost lost my life alongside my babies and about how he and his father almost killed me days after I left with nothing.
Something that looks a lot like regret flashes across his face, but I know better than to expect Damon to feel much of anything toward me. He’s made his disdain for me perfectly clear over the years, and telling him I almost died as a result of what he did to me isn’t going to change that.
“So believe me when I say if I knew anything that would get you the fuck out of my life, I would tell you,” I hiss, pressing both hands to his hard chest and shoving him as hard as I can manage.
He stumbles back a step, but I don’t fool myself into thinking it was my strength that did it. More than likely it was the surprise that I would stand up to him, but I’m done letting him bully me.
He and his family are responsible for every single shitty thing that’s happened to me, and I refuse to let them take anything else from me.
Before either of us can speak again, the door behind him flies open, tearing a scream from my throat as the handle collides with the hard tiles.
Familiar icy blond hair and amber eyes fill the doorway, and I don’t know whether to be relieved to see Ryker or annoyed that he too followed me here.
Good job escaping, Chloe. Really, one of your best efforts, I think to myself. Because how the hell did I not notice two people following me?
Super sleuth I am not.
It’s not until he steps forward that I realize he has a gun trained on Damon, and my stomach rolls with conflicting emotions.
On the one hand, Damon dying would solve a lot of my problems. He’s always been the brother that’s more likely to hurt me, and now that Ronan knows the truth about what happened back then, he might not feel inclined to drag me back to Miami.
But on the other, far more complicated hand, there’s a part of me that never stopped loving him.
There’s a dark part of my heart, a corner I choose not to acknowledge, that has always been reserved for him, and the idea of watching him die in this random gas station restroom makes my chest tight.
“Siren,” he greets, his eyes moving over me to check for injuries, but when he finds nothing obvious, some of the tension bleeds from his shoulders. “We’re going.”
“You’re not taking her anywhere,” Damon snaps.
“I think you’ll find I am, and if you try to stop me, you’ll find yourself bleeding out in this gas station in the middle of nowhere.”
He says it so casually, like he’s not threatening to kill the next leader of one of the most notorious crime families in the world.
“Time to go, Chloe.”
I nod slowly, really fucking glad I already took care of business before these two appeared, before skirting around Damon.
If he wanted to, he could grab me, but he seems to have enough self-preservation to not antagonize the guy with the gun.
As soon as I’m within reach, Ryker wraps an arm around my waist and pushes me behind him, putting himself between me and Damon.
“Go back to the car and wait for me.”
“No.” The word slips out before I can catch it, because I should do exactly that. I should get back in the car and get the fuck out of here before either of them can follow me.
And yet the idea of leaving Ryker and Damon alone to kill each other feels impossible.
His eyes flicker to me before returning to the threat, surprise quickly replaced with frustration. He’s only trying to keep me safe, but he doesn’t understand how complicated my relationship with Damon is.
“Siren, you can walk your pretty ass back to the car, or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here.”
Damon’s attention drops from the gun that’s aimed at him, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips when he meets my eyes.
“Seems like you’re still collecting admirers, aren’t you, Duchess?”