“Miss Vale,” David cuts in gently, trying to rein me back, “this is not a joke. You need protection.”
“Protection?” I’m still laughing, but it’s sliding toward full hysteria now. “From what? He’s dead! The threat is gone!”
I turn back toward Alaric, daring him to answer.
But he doesn’t.
Instead, he lifts one hand and gives a small, silent signal to one of the men behind him, who approaches me.
“I’m afraid the threat is very much alive,” he says quietly. “You can’t stay here tonight. We’re doing this for your own good.”
That’s when I see the handkerchief in the man’s hand, and panic floods my system.
“No!” I try to run, but there’s nowhere to go in the tiny space. “Don’t touch me! Help! HELP!”
The cloth covers my nose and mouth, reeking of something sharp and chemical. The room spins, and the last thing I hear is Alaric’s voice, calm and authoritative.
“Be careful with her. Check for her valuables. ID cards, passport. We’ll be needing those.”
Then everything goes black.
I wake up in someone else’s bed.
My head swims. The light is too bright. The silk sheets are too soft. For one horrible moment, I think I’m back in Dante’s house. My head throbs, and my mouth tastes like cotton balls.
Someone is standing over me.
The déjà vu hits like a physical blow, so strong it makes me nauseous. A man silhouetted against the light, watching me sleep in a bed that isn’t mine.
But this time, when my eyes focus, I see his face clearly.
Silver hair. Strong jaw. Green eyes that are achingly familiar.
The man from the hotel room. The stranger who held me with such tenderness, who made me feel beautiful and wanted and safe.
The man from the cemetery and my house who watched me with recognition.
Dante’s father.
I cover my mouth with both hands, my voice coming out as a strangled whisper in disbelief. “No fucking way.”
His expression is cold and disgusted. Nothing like the gentle man who traced my tattoo with worshipful fingers.
“I didn’t say anything earlier because there were others present,” he says, voice clipped. “It’s pretty fucked-up to know that I slept with my son’s fiancée.”
“Ex-fiancée!” I snap, on my feet before I know it. My pulse is pounding. “He became my ex the moment I discovered what I was!”
His voice stays level, but tighter now. “I can imagine what you must be feeling right now. I never asked for this.”
“Neither did I!” I throw my arms out. “But at least you have a choice!”
His eyes harden, but he still doesn’t lash out. “I am not the one who wrote his will.”
“You’re not? Then why am I standing here? Why did your men break into my apartment? Why am I being drugged and hauled into your fucking house like cargo?!” My voice cracks, but I don’t stop. “You’re finishing what he started whether you want to admit it or not!”
“You are in this situation because of my son’s decisions. Not mine.”
“And yet you’re benefiting from it.” My breath is shaking now. “Do you know what it feels like to finally get free after years of being controlled, only to wake up here? Again?”
