Chapter 17
SUMMER
The first three days with Storm passed in an uneasy kind of peace.
He brought me to his apartment in the city, a sleek, modern space that felt too polished, like it was rented just to look successful.
He gave me the guest room, ordered takeout every evening, and didn’t press me to talk.
He was acting like my brother, but his actions felt off.
I haven’t called Kairo since arriving back on the mainland.
I want to. I miss him. I think about him every waking hour.
I pick up my phone and stare at his name, then put it down again.
I dream about him every night, his hands, his mouth, his voice.
I wake up, reaching across the bed for a body that isn't there.
On the fourth day, Storm tells me our father wants to see me.
"He's been asking," Storm says over coffee. "He knows you're here. He wants to talk."
"I have nothing to say to him."
"He knows what he did was wrong," he tells me.
I don't believe that. Men like Mario Rayne don't change. But Storm keeps pushing, and eventually I agree because part of me wants to look my father in the eye and tell him exactly what his fifty-million-dollar mistake cost me.
We meet him at his penthouse downtown. My father is standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out over the city like he thinks he still owns it. He turns when I walk in, and for a second, he just stares at me, like he can’t believe I’m real.
“Summer,” he says, voice rough. “You came.” He starts to walk toward me to give me a hug.
I stop halfway across the room, arms crossed tight over my chest, and halt his actions.
“Don’t,” I say. “Don’t act like you’re happy to see me.”
“Don’t be like that. I’m so sorry, sweetheart. What I did … selling you to Saint … it was unforgivable. But I was desperate. He was going to kill me.”
He’s not wrong, Kairo would have.
“Would it have made you happier if I were dead?” he asks.
My eyes narrow on him. What a manipulative asshole. Has he always been like this? Feels like the veil has been lifted regarding my father and he is exactly everything Kairo has told me he is.
“So, you traded me like a fucking asset.” My voice is calm and even. “You signed a contract and handed me over like I was nothing. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”
He flinches at my tone. “It was my life, darling, what don’t you understand?”
“You traded your life for mine.”
“He wasn’t going to kill you.” My father scoffs.
“You didn’t know that,” I argue back.
“The man seems obsessed with you. He was never going to harm you,” Storm adds.
That’s why they did it, they knew of Kairo’s obsession with me.
“You could have asked me. I would have done it to save your life,” I tell my father.
He seems taken aback. “Then why are you upset?”
Is he serious? “Why am I upset?” My voice rises as I throw my hands up. “I’m upset because you never gave me a choice.”
“It all worked out in the end, except you fell in love with him,” Storm states.
“You did what?” My father gasps.
“I heard her tell him as she left the island that she loves him.” Storm smirks. “It was heartwarming, the fucking fool is gone for her.”
“He is?” My father smirks at my brother.
“Very much so. You should have seen his face when she left him.” My brother laughs darkly.
“Really? This is good.” My father nods.
“I’m standing right here,” I say as they converse around me like I’m invisible.
“We know,” my father snaps. “You did well, sweetheart, making that fool fall in love with you. This is perfect,” he says gleefully.
“No, it’s not. I was starting to be happy there,” I continue, stepping closer. “With him, I was starting to feel. And you … you took that away from me again by making me question everything.” Tears burn in my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall.
“You needed to know the truth, Summer,” my brother tells me. “You have blood on your hands, and you needed to know that.”
I don’t know if I can ever forgive Kairo for this, but I also don’t know if I can stay away from him.
My father’s smirk deepens, slow and satisfied, like he just won the lottery.
I feel sick.
“You’re using me,” I whisper, the realization hitting like ice water. “Both of you, again.”
My father waves a dismissive hand. “Don’t be dramatic. We are family. This is how we survive. You play the loving wife, get close to him, and learn his weaknesses. When the time is right, we’ll take everything from him.”
Storm nods like it’s the most reasonable plan in the world. “You’ve already done the hard part. He loves you, that’s power, Summer. Real power.”
I stare at them, these two men who are supposed to be my blood, and I feel nothing but disgust and a deep, aching emptiness.
“You sold me,” I say slowly, voice shaking. “And now you want me to go back and play whore for you so you can steal from him?”
My father’s eyes narrow. “Watch your mouth.”
“No.” I step back, shaking my head. “I’m done with being your pawn.”
Storm’s expression hardens. “Summer, think about this. He’s a murderer but we are your family.”
I laugh, bitter and broken. “At least Kairo never pretended to love me while stabbing me in the back.”
The silence that follows is heavy.
I turn toward the door, my hands trembling.
“I’m leaving.”
“Summer …” Storm starts, but I cut him off.
“Don’t follow me. Don’t call me. Don’t ever speak to me again.”
I walk out without looking back, the sound of the door closing behind me echoing like a gunshot. And for the first time since I left the island, I realize I have nowhere left to go and that maybe leaving was the worst mistake I’ve ever made.
I should have known walking away from my family wasn’t going to be that easy. I don't make it to the elevator before I hear footsteps behind me, then suddenly something slams into the back of my skull. The pain is white and blinding, the hallway floor rushes up to meet me, and then nothing.
I wake up in my old bedroom. It takes me a minute to recognize it.
The walls are the same pale blue my mother painted when I was nine.
The bed is the single with an iron frame.
There are the dresser and the faded curtain with the little flowers.
Everything is the same except the window has been sealed shut, a metal plate bolted over the glass from the outside.
The door handle has been replaced, and it looks like I can’t turn it from the inside. My phone is also gone, as is my bag.
I scramble off the bed and try the door, it’s locked. I slam my fists against it. "Storm! Dad! Let me out!"
Nothing.
I try the window, the bolts look industrial.
I can't even get my fingers under the edge of the metal plate.
I try the dresser drawers, looking for anything I can use as a tool, but they are all empty.
They've cleared the room of everything, no hangers in the closet, no glass in the picture frames.
Even the lamp has been unscrewed from the nightstand and taken away.
They planned this.
"Let me out!" I scream, beating on the door until my hands are red and throbbing. "You can't keep me here! Let me the fuck out!"
Nobody comes.
I sink to the floor with my back against the door and pull my knees to my chest. My childhood bedroom, the room where I used to read under the covers with a flashlight, where I cried myself to sleep after my mother died, the room I grew up in, dreaming about the day I'd be free.
And now it's a cell.
Hours pass, maybe days, I can't tell without a window or a phone.
The room gets darker, then lighter through the cracks around the metal plate.
I curl up on the floor because the bed feels too much like giving in.
A scraping sound wakes me, the cat flap at the bottom of the door, the one my mother installed for our tabby cat when I was eight, swings open.
Items are pushed through, a bowl of chicken and rice, then a bottle of water, before the flap clicks shut.
I stare at the food, my stomach feels hollow, but I don't trust it.
I don't trust anything in this house anymore.
But hunger wins. I eat. The rice is bland, the chicken cold.
I drink half the bottle of water and set the rest aside.
I spend the next few hours trying everything, pulling at the metal plate on the window until my fingers bleed. Kicking the door until my foot is bruised. Screaming until my voice is raw. I try to unscrew the hinges with my fingernails. Nothing works, and I wish I had never left the island.
My mind wanders, wondering if Kairo is missing me as much as I am missing him right now. Probably not, you broke his heart. I close my eyes and think about Kairo’s strong arms around me, and honestly, it’s the only thing that keeps me going.
I’m awoken by another meal sliding through the flap.
This time, it's pasta, I eat it because I need to keep my strength up if I'm going to find a way out.
Unfortunately, halfway through the plate, the room tilts.
I set the fork down, and my hand starts trembling.
The edges of the room are going soft. Did they drug my pasta?
"No," I whisper, gripping the edge of the bed. "No, no, no …" The ceiling spins above me, the pale blue walls blurring into a smear and then darkness.
Noise.
That's the first thing I notice when I come to. Noise and light, there’s music coming from somewhere above me, muffled, a bass line vibrating through the floor. Voices, glasses clinking, laughter.
A party? Are my family hosting a party?
I open my eyes slightly and notice I’m upright.
Someone is holding me upright by both arms. When I look down, I’m wearing a white evening dress, and my feet are sliding in heels as they help me across the floor.
My head is full of cotton, my tongue is thick, and my eyes won't focus while my legs are doing what the hands on my arms tell them to do, not what I tell them to do.
Left foot. Right foot.
A corridor. Dim lights. Side door.
I try to speak. "Where …"
"Keep walking," an unfamiliar voice says. They take me through a door and down a flight of stairs. The air changes, it’s colder as the music fades to a dull thump above my head.
A basement. Is that where I am?
My eyes focus on the gray surroundings as I try to work out what is going on. They then dump me on the concrete floor, my knees hit first, then my palms, then my face. The cold shocks some of the fog out of me. I try to push myself up, but my arms feel like Jell-O.
“Don’t get what the big deal is with this one,” a voice says.
“Boss said she was important,” another voice adds.
What are they talking about? Suddenly, I’m yanked from the ground, and metal cuffs are closed around my wrists. I try to fight them, but I have no strength, then my hands are placed over a hook, and I’m strung up like a piece of meat.
No. No. No.
What are they doing to me? They jiggle me around, but once they seem satisfied, they chuckle and walk out of the room, slamming the door behind them.
Then I'm alone.
Fuck.
This is bad.
Think, Summer, think. I’m trying, but the drugs are not helping. I pull at the rope, and it doesn't give, but I soon give up again. I'm shaking, from the cold and the drugs still in my system.
This can’t be it.
This is not how it all ends.
I must pass out for a bit as a voice in the corridor wakes me. They are talking low.
"... ten million, confirmed. Wire transfer went through."
"Rayne's a piece of work, selling his own kid twice." Another voice chuckles.
I knew it.
“Castellano's been wanting leverage against Saint for years."
“Guess now he’s got it.” Both men burst out laughing.
Then I fall back into darkness, and this time I hope I don’t wake up.
When I come too again, there is someone standing in front of me, he's tall, silver-haired, in a sharp suit. He lifts my chin with one finger, and nothing but cold, dead eyes look at me.
"Summer Rayne." His voice is smooth. "The woman Kairo Saint lost his mind over. I can see why.”
"Who are you?" My voice is barely a whisper.
"Victor Castellano. And you just became the most expensive woman in this city.
" He stands, removes his jacket, and folds it over the chair.
He then rolls up his sleeves with slow, careful precision.
"Your husband took twenty million from me.
Your brother sold you for ten. That means you owe me ten million in pain. "
Then he hits me with an open palm. My head snaps sideways, and I taste blood.
"That's for the port deal."
He hits me again, harder this time, and my lip splits.
"That's for the shipment in March."
My head lolls to the side, and pain shoots through my body. This Victor guy seems angry, and it looks to me like I’m his punching bag. Then I notice he pulls a knife from his belt. It’s small and thin. He sadistically walks over with a smile on his face and presses the tip against my collarbone.
"Where does Saint keep his product?"
Product? What is he talking about? "I don't know," I mumble.
The blade slides across my skin, shallow, precise. I scream as blood runs down my chest and soaks into the white dress.
"How many men on the mainland?"
"I don't know anything! He didn't tell me. I was his wife for a week, and before that, he was a stranger."
He considers this. "That is true, but I had to check for myself.” He chuckles darkly as he traces the blade down my arm. "You're not here for information, sweetheart. You're here because the second Kairo finds out I have you, he'll come for you. And when he does, I'll be ready."
He cuts me again, my arm, ribs, my thigh through the slit of the dress. Shallow, deliberate, not trying to kill me, but writing a message on my body for Kairo to read. When he's done, he wipes the blade clean and puts his jacket back on. He looks up at me, bleeding and shaking.
"I have to get back to my guests." He straightens his collar, his eyes drop to my body, and the look in them makes every cut stop stinging and the real fear begin. "But I'll be back, and when I do, sweetheart, we're going to get much better acquainted."
He laughs as he walks out of the room and locks the door behind him.
I will not die here.
Kairo, please find me before it’s too late.
Please.