Chapter 20
Regan
“ H appy Birthday, little one. Blow out your candle,” he instructed.
Closing my eyes, I wished for my freedom, then I opened my eyes to watch as the flame was extinguished on an exhaled breath.
Looking up, I smiled at Sergey as he handed me the cupcake and retook his seat.
I’d been with him for over six months and I never expected this.
We’d been in three different safe houses since he took me, and I was positive my birthday was going to be skipped.
But when he came home from meeting with the prosecutors, he had two cupcakes and a single candle.
“What did you wish for?” he asked as I removed the candle and unwrapped the vanilla cake.
“I can’t tell you. It won’t come true,” I replied.
He chuckled, and it was a foreign sound to my ears. He yelled, threatened, warned, and whispered, but laughter wasn’t something he’d ever shared with me. “You sound like my daughter, Stella. She believed in fairytales too.”
I went to ask something but remembered my place and changed my mind. Sergey watched me, then he suddenly said, “Ask whatever you want. That will be my gift to you.”
There was no way he was serious. For months, he’d told me things about the families, the Syndicate’s inner workings, and the few people he had placed in key positions to ensure he was always ‘in the know’. For him to let me question anything was unheard of, so I didn’t want to blow this chance.
I thought hard, and he watched me as he peeled the paper off one side of his cupcake and took a bite from his position across the table from me. He was wearing his normal black three-piece suit with a blood red tie, but his demeanor was relaxed, so he seemed . . . approachable.
“You said the original Syndicate, the one from the old country, was causing problems for the family here. How . . . how did the problems go away?”
He smiled, and I knew letting him talk about his conquests and victories made him feel special. I didn’t know everything there was about men, but I knew if you stroked their egos, they would spill their souls. And the more he told me, the more I would have to use when I finally escaped.
“When Devlin and Lucian were little boys, in the months before Stella was born, the original families wanted their piece of the pie that we’d worked so hard to chisel out of the American dream.
So, the heads of the families here sent some of us over to meet with the originals.
They were expecting money and documents to gain them passage, but they were met with a hail of gunfire.
” He smiled as he placed the half-eaten cupcake onto the table before he continued to speak.
“When the smoke cleared, there wasn’t anyone left to demand anything, and we never had to pay homage to the old world again. ”
“That was a smart move. Eliminating everyone who could challenge you before they make a move kept you in power,” I remarked, and he nodded. “And after you testify, there won’t be any more obstacles to you taking charge of the family?”
“I’ve got an ace in the hole, a deal I’d made years ago when my boys were almost teenagers and Stella was proving to be an asset as she developed.” I wanted to vomit at the sideways comment about his only daughter but learned long ago to keep my face neutral to hide my disgust.
“An ace?” I inquired like I was stupid.
He leaned forward and looked over his shoulder at the open door of the office at the safe house he’d commandeered as his own.
The new guards were patrolling, and when he looked back, he leaned closer and lowered his voice as he spoke.
“There was a family that had a son who was set to take his place in the family, and he died in a freak car accident. And that family had no one to put in his place, so they stepped back over a decade ago. But,” he smiled, “there was a son from a mistress, and he’s the sole heir to that bloodline and therefore eligible to take a position at the head of the table as my second in command. ”
My eyes grew wide at the realization. He was rebuilding the Syndicate as he was actively testifying for the government to dismantle the Syndicate. He was playing both ends against the middle, and no one knew what he was planning.
“Where’s the son?” I whispered, glancing around like this was the best story ever and I didn’t want to be overheard.
“He’s been in boarding school, but he graduated a few months ago. Over the years, I’ve taken him to initiations and meetings, so he knew what was expected of him. He’s become quite the connoisseur of certain . . . specialties at such a young age. It’s astonishing.”
I’d never seen him impressed, so I was confused. Biting my lip, Sergey tilted his head to observe me. He flicked his fingers, telling me to speak, so I cautiously asked, “Why do you need someone else to help you rule?”
“There is one rule I could never get past, no matter how hard I tried. All the families are bound by blood to abide it, and that was part of the oath at initiation.” I gave him a confused look, so he explained.
“The Syndicate can’t be controlled by one family.
There has to be at least three members from the original bloodlines to rule.
I’m one, I have a second, and I’m close to finding a third.
Once I do, and all this testifying is done, then,” he sighed and leaned back, linking his fingers together behind his head as he seemed to relish in his impending power, “I can rebuild the empire I was destined to control and the weak little boys under me will do my bidding.”
Offering him a smile, we both turned when we heard an agent doing his walk-by outside the office. He left, and I picked a piece of my cupcake off and popped it into my mouth. Sergey looked around and then to me as he asked, “What else do you want to know?”
“Why . . . never mind,” I finished, and he shook his head.
“Ask your question, little one. I may never be this gracious again.”
“How come you can’t get to the money you acquired from the families?” I looked around the room and remarked, “I mean, this place is nice, but if we had some of the money, we could have room service.”
I’d been confused for months about his statements regarding the money. He spoke of how he’d been shifting the money before the Feds moved in and made arrests, and the one time I asked if Ricardo was helping, he laughed and said that asshole wasn’t good enough to be involved in the financials.
“I moved the last of the money into offshore accounts last month, and until I can get down there with my information, it’s untouchable. No one can get to it, and unless they have the passwords, they’ll be locked out forever.”
He laughed, and I joined in, curious how he thought he was getting out of the country without his electronic leash the Feds attached to him last month.
He decided to go for a drive and the agents at the house were going out of their mind looking for him.
They put the monitor on him the next day, and if my guess was correct, he had years of testimony to go.
“So, the other two families are waiting for you to be done here, then they’ll be ready,” I clarified, not asked, and he gave me a satisfied nod.
“There are a few people I’ll have to throw some bucks at once I’m free of my leash, but they’re a non-issue.”
Giving an understanding nod, I sat silent in front of him as he rambled on, no longer wanting me to ask questions.
I felt like there were times he wanted me to be in awe of him, and during those needy moments, I would indulge his diva desires.
The sun was setting outside the office windows when one of the agents walked to the open doorway.
“We need to secure the house for the night. There’s an early start tomorrow,” the man said.
Sergey and I stood from our seats, and he placed his hand on my elbow to guide me from the room and up the stairs. Our rooms were on opposite sides of the hallway, and as I stepped in front of my door, I heard him say my real name.
“Regan,” he began, and I turned around. “Happy Birthday, little one.”
“Thank you,” I replied as he opened the door and stepped inside before closing it and leaving me alone in the hallway.
An agent walked by and nodded into my room, and I sighed before opening the door and sealing myself inside.
Sitting near the door, I listened for any sounds, and once I was sure there wasn’t anyone outside my room, I went to the small closet and opened it.
Kneeling, I reached into the back corner and, with minimal effort, I pulled back the corner of the carpet and slid the baseboard to the side.
Reaching in with my fingertips, I worked until I felt the little black book I’d hidden inside on the first day we arrived.
Pulling it out, I let the moonlight filtering through the window behind me provide illumination as I documented what Sergey told me tonight alongside the numbers he made me repeat every morning before I was allowed to eat.
It was four sets of twelve numbers, and he had drilled them into my memory.
I didn’t know what they were for, but something told me they were important, so I documented them and everything else he told me.
This was the little book I’d managed to smuggle every time we had to relocate, and I just hoped I would be able to keep up with it long enough to escape. Then I could use it against Sergey and take everything he values from him.
Money and power.
The sound of elevated voices in the distance had me trying to pull myself from the thick fog I was swimming in. Here, there was no pain, no betrayal, no worry, but the angry voices were dragging me back to reality, a place I wasn’t fond of some days.
I felt a hand on my ankle and heard a small voice whisper, “Wake up, Regan. That man is here and everyone’s mad.”
I could hear fear in the person’s voice, and I struggled to blink my eyes open. The pain in my arm was nothing compared to the pain in my head as the thumping intensified. Feeling sick, I rolled over and threw up whatever was in my stomach onto the floor as the little voice yelled for help.
Someone ran into the room and physically rolled me back onto the bed as a cold compress was placed onto my forehead. It felt wonderful as the person wiped over my face, cooling me and reducing my headache some. The hand on my ankle gripped a little harder as I heard a voice through the haze.
“Regan, it’s Rhys. I need you to wake up.”
Trying and failing to blink, I rolled my head to the side as a hand brushed hair off my forehead.
“Who are you?” Rhys asked someone as I pushed harder to snap out of the fog.
“My name’s Wren. Regan . . . she saved my life.”
“Can you tell me how you and Regan met? Who did this to you two? How did you get away?” I heard Rhys ask as I was able to crack my eyes, seeing him through the slits as he looked at a worried and unsure Wren.
“Leave . . . her . . . alone, Rhys,” I muttered with great effort.
“Regan,” Rhys said, and a loud noise came from outside the room I was in, causing me to jump. I felt Wren clench her hand on my ankle as someone tried to calm down the angry voices.
Blinking a few times, I was finally able to see my worried brother sitting on the side of the bed, looking down at me.
Rolling my head, I saw Wren, who was half-covered in my blood, sitting at my feet with a hand on me, and behind her, pressed against the wall, was James.
He looked worried, scared, and as my vision grew clearer, I realized he looked guilty.
“What . . . what happened,” I asked, coughing over my dry mouth.
A bottle of water appeared next to me, and with more effort than ever, I managed to push myself up into a sitting position as Rhys helped me take a swallow.
When I went to lift my hand to grab the bottle, pain shot across my arm and something tethered me to the bed.
Looking down, I saw an IV in my arm, dried and caked blood coating my arm and hand, and a bandage covering most of my upper arm.
Looking at it then at Rhys, I rationalized, “I killed someone tonight, and I need you to take care of it.”
The sound from the doorway was loud, and I tilted my gaze to the side to see Devlin, Lucian, and James filling the space. I turned to Rhys and asked, “Where’s Seth?”
“Regan, we need to discuss—” Rhys began, but I shook my head, feeling another wave of nausea overtake me.
“Either you bring him to me or I’m going to find him,” I stated plainly, and he gave me a worried look.
I glanced at Wren, and when I started to push myself out of the bed, she stood to help me. I knew she was confused, but she trusted me enough to get us out of that house, and helping me must be her way of showing gratitude. Or self-preservation. I’d take either at that moment.
Looking at her, I whispered, feeling the weakness overtake me, “Thank you for helping me.”
“Please stop,” someone said, and I looked up to see James, Devlin, and Lucian grumble to someone behind them. “I’m here.”
Seth stepped through the wall of protectors and the look on his face was the same one as James’s.
Guilt .
“I don’t know which one of you assholes planned my kidnapping tonight, but you fucked up some of the details.”
The group stopped moving, and I heard another noise through the doorway. Gunner, the President of the Death Hounds, and Skid, the VP, stepped into the already crowded doorway, and I knew there was going to be a huge problem if I didn’t stop this soon.
“Did she say you motherfuckers planned this? That you put her in danger? That her condition is because of you? Because if you did, we’re all gonna have a big fucking problem. One we won’t be able to come back from,” Gunner stated with rage in his voice.
I raised my bloody hand as the voices started to grow in volume, and when they wouldn’t stop speaking to hear what I had to say, I looked at Wren. That young woman, to her account, placed two fingers into her mouth and whistled so loudly, the whole group jumped.
“Would you shut the fuck up and listen to what she has to say?” Wren yelled to the group of alpha men and their huge attitudes. “Please,” she tacked on the end. I felt a little chuckle bubble up at her boldness.
She had a horrible couple of days and was surrounded by strangers she trusted only because I asked her to, so seeing her inner strength shine so brightly made me proud of her bravery.
But I feared what the men’s response would be once they found out who she was and how she was related to this shitshow.