Bound By Blood: (The Betrayed Series Book 2) (18 page)

“Breathe, Kai,” Nari directs.

The room spins like a tilt-a-whirl, dark spots dancing across my vision. Key hinges forward, leveling me with her intense gaze. Her hair cocoons us in a silky, dark curtain. “Inhale through your nose. Exhale through your mouth.” Her words are softly spoken and broker no room for argument. Inhaling through my nose, air immediately fills my lungs, clearing my vision.

“Good, keep breathing.” She smiles.

“Why don’t you tell us more about Alex?” Key encourages.

Exhaling a shaky breath, I try to ignore the liquid being poured onto my side. My voice is soft and quavers when I finally answer.

“H-He’s charismatic. It’s absolutely beguiling in a way how he allures you, winning you over with his fascinating essence. It’s positively irresistible, almost spellbinding. I’m not sure that I ever really stood a chance. You know, it’s ironic. I’ve spent most of my life avoiding men. Then in a cruel twist, fate provides me with a light at the end of the tunnel. A mesmerizing violet hue that makes me feel safe . . . loved. The only man other than my father to ever accomplish that. And what does fate do with it? She snatches it away and leaves me here.”

My chest constricts, trapping all of the air, holding it hostage. Warm salty droplets cascade shamelessly down my cheeks. Lost in my own sorrow, I grieve for the loss of safety I felt in Alex’s arms. I’m not sure how much time passes as my tears dry, the silent sobs ceasing to exist. Blinking, the room comes into focus. All four women surround me, embracing me, comforting me in their own way.

The fissure in my heart mends just a fraction. A timid smile slowly tugs at the corners of my mouth. Brushing the hair back from my face, Nari questions, “Feeling better?”

“A little,” I rasp.

“Sometimes it’s good to let it out.” Hye pats my leg.

“We’ve all done it,” Are agrees.

“Would you like some good news?” Nari asks.

Snorting, I roll my eyes. Good news, I can’t even remember what that sounds like.

“I take that as a yes?” she replies. Nodding, I wait for her to speak.

“Your wounds looked good. There are no signs of infection. Although, the one on your left side is slightly inflamed.” She stops, lost in thought, her brow creasing.

With bated breath, I wait for her to finish her thought. Expelling a gust of air, she finally continues. “Even though it is not infected, I still think we should keep watching it. If at all possible, when they take you . . . protect your left side at any cost.” Desperation fills her voice.

Clearing my throat, I say, “Maybe I’ll get lucky, and they’ll get bored and leave me alone.” My joke sounds flat even to my own ears.

Are sends me a sympathetic look before saying, “Unfortunately, we all know that isn’t possible. And they’ll be here for us soon, anyway.” My eyes widen in fear at her response. I don’t want to be left alone. There’s safety in numbers. And I most certainly have no desire to be alone with my mother or her henchmen. My stomach clenches, tensing anxiously.

“W-Where are you going?” I stammer.

“We have a private party that we’ve been commissioned for,” Are answers.

“A private party?”

“Yes, at Madame Lin’s,” she replies.

Choking, my lungs fight to drag in a breath as I sit, sputtering. All four girls gather around me, their hands fluttering, patting my back. Gasping, I inhale, my chest burning with each pull of oxygen.

“Are you all right, Kai?” Hye asks.

“Y-Yes, I-I think so,” I pant between breaths.

“What made you react that way?” Nari asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

“M-Madame Lin. I-I was with her when they took me.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

Still rubbing my back, Nari replies, “Ah, yes, I understand. Madame Lin, she isn’t exactly a trustworthy individual, yes?”

Not trusting my voice, I shake my head. “You will be safe while we are gone. Do not worry.” Key’s soft voice carries through the room.

Safe? No, I don’t think so. I haven’t truly been safe since I was last with him. I can’t even think his name without feeling that familiar ripple of pain. Crushing waves of nausea roll through me, assaulting my senses. Unable to tamp down the urge to vomit, I scramble into the corner.

Stooping in the corner, my body is torqued over the bucket as the door is thrown open, plowing into the wall. Pinning me with her malevolent gaze, my mother holds me captive for several seconds before the contents of my stomach come rushing up. Retching uncontrollably, I can feel the heat from her stare on my backside. When the heaving finally subsides, my body slides to the floor, crumpling into a giant puddle, unable to move. Fatigue moves in, the blessed numbness calling me once again. Something tells me to fight the pull to stay awake, reminding me I’m not safe. That I’ll never be safe . . . with her.

R
OLLING MY NECK FROM SIDE
to side, I adjust the bow tie for the umpteenth time. I hate wearing monkey suits. I didn’t even wear one for my wedding to the wench who will not be named. Groaning, I pull at the stupid tie again.

“Stop messing with it.” Sam claps me on the shoulder.

“I hate these fucking things,” I complain.

“Messing with it only makes you notice it more.” He chuckles.

Bastard. I swear he’s getting some kind of sick pleasure out of this.

“Asshole,” I mutter under my breath.

“I heard that,” Noah says, coming up behind me. Of course, he would. Why is it when you need them they’re nowhere to be found? Yet, when you don’t, they’re right under your nose? The rest of the team comes to join us with Colonel Parker trailing close behind.

“Everyone clear on the objective tonight?” the Colonel asks.

We all nod simultaneously. He eyes me fingering my bow tie. “Alex, there a problem?” he asks, his voice unrelenting.

Lowering my hand, my reply is immediate, “No, sir.”

“Good, let’s get this party started, then.” He nods in the direction of the Officers Club.

“Yes, sir,” I reply. As a unit, we all walk toward the entrance.

Incandescent lights illuminate the black carpet leading to the double doors of the club. Massive mugungwa pots dot either side of the path, softening the harsh light with spots of color. Soft iridescent lights mingle with the pink and white flowers, winding their way up the vines, setting them aflame against the backdrop. Gold stanchions line the end of the black carpet that are closed off with black velvet rope. As we approach the roped off area, two behemoths step out from beneath the shadows. My eyes sweep over the muscle, taking in everything at once.

Both are decked out in a modern version of a tuxedo with peaked lapels and clean lines all the way down to the shiny black shoes. Narrowing my eyes, I notice the bulge Thing One has on his right side. He’s clearly packing, which means Thing Two is as well. Thing Two crosses his arms over his chest, jutting his chin out, demanding, “Invitations.”

Our group parts like the Red Sea, Colonel Parker sauntering up the middle. Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he extracts six crisp, white invitations, handing them to Thing One with a smug smile firmly fixed in place. Glancing at them, he nods to his partner, who lifts the rope, motioning for us to enter.

“Enjoy your evening, gentlemen,” Thing One says.

“We fully intend to.” Colonel Parker smirks.

Entering the Officers Club, I’m momentarily blinded as flashes from a camera go off somewhere in the room. Blinking several times, my vision clears. To get to the inside of the club, we have to pass through a small greeting room. The greeting room is old-fashioned, reminding me of something out of an old war movie. Pictures of varying sizes and shapes line the walls. Each one is the image of a current commanding officer.

Thick, green padded benches are strewn throughout the area, giving it a congenial feeling. An oblong hostess stand takes up the corner close to the door, leaving little room for anyone to maneuver about the space. In the center of the room is a round archway that leads to the inner sanctum of the club. On either side of the archway lies four three and half-foot tall die. The bottom layer of the arch consists of large black die with white spots. Each of the black dice have four red balloons that are connected with curling silver ribbon, creating a cushion of sorts.

Sitting atop of the red balloons is another set of white and black die. Balloons are layered to accent the archway, first silver and then black, followed by red. All connect, leading to the center where an enormous indigo sign flashes Monte Carlo against the white wall. Two-foot tall playing cards are fanned out on either side of the flashing lights, accentuating the theme. On the left, the queen of hearts is displayed proudly while the ace of spades cozies up to her, veering off to the right.

The opposite side holds the king of clubs curving elegantly toward the right. The ace of hearts burrows close to the king bowing gracefully in the other direction. In the center of the archway just above the neon sign, the suicide jack sits perched tauntingly with vast, sweeping, ostrich feathers fully extended in every direction. The feathers span three to four feet wide and are solid white, except for the very ends, which are as black as the midnight sky.

Rolling my eyes, I mutter, “Why does it feel like he’s mocking us?”

Five pairs of eyes glance up at the taunting little devil. Yep, he’s definitely mocking us. It’s like he was put there on purpose. I swear fate can be a cruel bitch. Internally, I shake my head.

“That would be because he probably was,” Noah grumbles. Brighton, Sam, Cooper and I all groan simultaneously.

“Let’s get this shit over with. You all know what to do,” I say, tugging at the stupid bow tie again.

“Stop fidgeting.” My hand immediately drops when Colonel Parker’s whispered order reaches my ears.

Nodding, I say, “All right, move out.”

We pass through the archway as a group and stop as one, taking in the scenery before splitting off. Hell’s bells . . . it’s like little Vegas in here.

Noah let’s out a low whistle. “Damn, they sure do know how to throw a party, don’t they?”

“Well, they sure as hell didn’t spare any expense, did they?” Sam replies.

“That they didn’t,” Brighton remarks dryly.

“What did they do, fly everything in from Vegas?” Cooper asks.

“Probably,” Colonel Parker retorts, irritation clear in his voice.

Temporarily dumbstruck, I silently take in the opulence of the room. How in the hell they were able to turn an outdated club into a miniature version of a Vegas casino, I have no idea. The dining tables that were once crammed into the space have all been removed, thirty inch cocktail tables scattered around the room in their place. Each table is dressed with its own white cloth; silky black runners caress the center of the table, marrying them together. Fake poker chips surround a small square vase that contains several red roses. In the center of the roses are four playing cards: the queen of hearts, the ace of spades, the king of clubs, and the ace of hearts.

Waiters and waitresses wander around the room in their black pants and crimson button down shirts, laden with trays of hors d’oeuvres and various cocktails. Blackjack, poker, and craps tables are interspersed across the expansive club. The main focal point sits in the center of the floor, an enormous crowd congregating on all sides of the dark walnut roulette table. Mentally, I roll my eyes at the grandeur. A bitter tang coats my tongue.