Stopping by the massive walk-in closet, I grab some clothes and fresh underwear while trying not to think about what happened in this room. I don’t even look back at the bed. From this point on, it lives in the past. I’ll close it out the best I can. I’ve had a few minutes to cry, to grieve for my lost innocence. When the little reminders come to destroy me, I’ll be ready and waiting to shoot every single one of them down.
Giovanni DeAngelis will not define me. Only I get the right to do that.
My head spins and my body still feels heavy, but I refuse to dwell on it. I can break down and crumble once I get out of here, but until then, I need to remain strong, remain the woman my mother insisted I become, the woman she feared returning. After all, there are three men who need to rise from the dead, and they can’t do that until someone gives them the strength to do it.
Their warrior hearts are still beating rapidly, they’re just buried under mounds of bullshit, pain, and torment. But not for long. My warriors are going to fly free, and it’s going to be fucking spectacular.
Fuck, I can’t wait to watch them rise. They’re going to burn this whole fucking family to the ground.
With a renewed courage and determination burning through my veins, I make my way into the bathroom. I close the door behind me, and to give myself the illusion of privacy, I flick the little lock on the back of the door before stepping into the shower.
Hot water cascades down over me, and I quickly wash myself, being extra thorough between my legs. When I first stood, there was no rush of fluids dripping out of me, so I can only assume that he didn't finish, but I have to be careful. It would be the worst thing in the world to become pregnant with Giovanni’s child. There are a lot of things I can handle in this life, but that would not be one of them. There’s a risk that Giovanni could kill me at any time, but to be pregnant with his baby means that he will never let me go, never stop coming for me or my child. I’d sooner die than inflict that kind of hell on a child. That’s why it’s so imperative that I find that baby and free him of this shit. Not to mention, I promised Felicity that I would protect him with my life.
Finishing in the shower, I quickly dress and make sure I’m completely covered. There’s nothing in my room that can be used as a weapon, but I need to make sure that if he comes again, he’s going to have one hell of a hard time gaining any type of advantage over me. I won’t be drugged again, and I sure as fuck won’t become his playtoy, but if he somehow gets past my defenses again, I’ll be more than ready. Besides, he made it pretty damn clear that his precious little ego bruises easily. It shouldn’t be too hard to hammer the final nail into that particular coffin.
Can’t blame the guy. I’d have a dick complex too if I had to compete against men like Roman, Levi, and Marcus. Now, they’re real fucking men. Tall, broad shoulders with piercing eyes that hold a woman captive. Not to mention their rock-hard bodies, sharp jaws, and a darkness that screams dirty alpha bad boy who’ll fuck you until you call them daddy. They take care of their business, and they protect what’s theirs with an animalistic possessiveness and fierce loyalty that does things to me I’ve never felt before.
They’re my family. It’s as simple as that.
Damn. I need to get them home.
My head pounds as I walk out of the bathroom and cross to the main door. If I have any hope of breaking out of this fucked-up little prison, then I have to know what I’m working with. Getting up close and personal with the door handle, I peer over the lock, wondering just how hard it’s going to be to pick it, or if I should just break the whole damn thing off.
Pressing down over the handle, I test just how sturdy the lock is. I expect resistance, only it never comes. The handle keeps turning and my eyes widen further and further the lower it gets.
Holy mother of all things sweet and sexy. This is not happening. Surely I’m seeing things. I must be so fucked in the head that I’m hallucinating.
I suck in a gasp, my heart leaping right out of my fucking chest as I stare at the handle in shock. The softest click sounds through the room, assaulting my eardrums with the sweetest sound.
The door is open. It’s fucking open.
Giovanni must have stormed out of here in such a huff that he forgot to lock the door behind him.
He fucked up. He fucked me, screwed me over, and then he fucked up in the kind of way that is going to see the end of his miserable life.
Holy fucking shit.
Let me say that again for the assholes in the back.
HOLY FUCKING SHIT.
Why didn’t I try the door before? Why did I waste all that fucking time having a shower and sobbing about what Giovanni did to me? I could have been out of here ages ago, could have already had the boys halfway through the thick trees by now.
A wicked grin spreads across my face as my heart thunders a million miles an hour, the hope swelling inside of me like a fucking cancer, infecting every part of my body. Millions of thoughts and plans swirl through my mind like a fucking hurricane, each one demanding attention. The possibilities are endless, and all of them are centered around finding that fucking prick and putting a dagger right through his chest before his yes men drag me back here kicking and screaming.
I shake my head. I can’t lose myself to that. My only priority is finding that baby and getting the boys out of here. We can deal with Giovanni later. Hell, I might even put Gia against him and let her clean up her own fucking mess.
Calming my racing heart, I slowly peel the door open a little wider and hold my breath, terrified that this could be some sick, twisted joke. Perhaps they’re lying in wait, ready to screw me over again. Perhaps Giovanni is watching me through cameras, predicting my every move.
Fuck, it’s a risk, but I’m willing to take it.
My gaze flicks from left to right before turning to the left once again. Something was out here before making loud, heavy thumps, and whatever it is, I need to keep as far away from it as possible. I don’t see anyone, but I’m not taking any chances. This whole thing has the potential to backfire in the most absurd, hideous ways, and I don’t want to hang around to discover what they might be.
Swallowing the fear, I remind myself that I was trained by not only Gia Moretti’s right hand, but by the three grim reapers, the infamous DeAngelis sons. If I can make it this far, I can sure as fuck keep going. I lived in this very castle for months. I know its ins and outs, its little secrets … secrets that perhaps Giovanni hasn’t discovered yet. I have the upper hand here.
Not wanting to waste time, I push out into the empty hallway, going as slow as possible and trying to remember where each of the creaks are in the old flooring. My heart thunders so loud that I swear I can hear it on the outside of my body, but if anything is going to give me away, it’s the rapid, heavy panting that sounds like some old bitch frothing over the Magic Mike live show performers, who I may or may not be following on Instagram. I’ve got to reel it in.
Creeping up to the room directly beside mine, I swallow hard before gripping the handle. I’ve got one fucking shot.