“You said it's the drugs in my system.”
Finn’s dark brow frowns. “They drugged you to keep you compliant so they could get you here.”
I glance at Lyric, who nods her head. Marco, that narcissistic jackass. I’m not surprised, but I feel violated. Still, though, it doesn’t account for why I’m here and how the Bianchi family knows the Rebels of the Undead.
“Why am I here?” I glance between Finn and Lyric; the latter glances at my ex for direction.
“Prez wants to talk to her too,” Finn says, and instantly my insides shrink.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I ask, my tone low and cutting. Finn’s head whips to me, and his eyes flash with concern and confusion.
“Nothing. You’re not in danger here. Bianchi’s men are gone,” he explains, but the fear and the worry still sit in my stomach. I’d been around the Rebels enough to know that when I left how I did, I shouldn’t be allowed back here. I’m not an old lady, or even a girlfriend. So either I’m a prisoner, or I’ve been traded because of the secrets I know about the mafia coup.
“I swear, I don’t know anything that you probably don’t already know.”
Finn stops moving and turns me in his arms, his hands on my shoulders. I’m forced to look into his eyes, eyes that darken to midnight and fill with anger when he sees the fear in mine. “You aren’t in danger here, Win. The club takes care of our own, and no matter how many miles you put between us, you’re still one of us. Prez, Jester, and the guys want to tell you what we know about why you’re here for our protection, and we want to hear from you about how you got tangled up with the mafia. That's it, I swear.”
I want to trust him. My body sways toward him, remembering that he used to be a safe place. Then the lies and the silent nights alone flood back, along with the reasons I left here. All of the reasons I don’t trust Finn Kinsella. Nodding my head, I step out of his hold.
“I’ll hear what they have to say and answer what I can. Then I want to leave.”
Lyric sucks in her breath, and her eyes water again. But I let her grab my hand, grounding me to the here and now. If I think too much about my time with Marco, I know I’ll spiral. Finn says nothing, but I notice the way his jaw hardens, his cheekbones so pronounced and sharp. Even with the new thickness of his light beard, I can still see that scar on his cheek tighten. I hate thatI notice it, and that even with one swipe from my eyes, I can tell that in the last five years, he’s become even more handsome. Finn’s free hand, the one not guiding me out the door, clenches into a fist. He won’t look at me, but I can feel the heat coming off his body from the anger he’s holding back. I know everything about him, and in a short amount of time, all of those memories have come rushing back. Even worse, my body reacts to him, and I need to shut that down.
The hallway is empty when we step into it, and the entire clubhouse is quieter than I remember it being. Once we get to the common room, I see why. Every member is sitting, conversing with each other in serious tones. I notice that the club whores aren’t roaming around, and the bar doesn’t look to be up and running either. As soon as Finn steps into the room, everyone glances at him, and the hushed conversations cut off. Prez walks over to us, and I fight the instinct to shrink back. As if sensing my panic, Lyric squeezes my hand. Finn catches the movement out of the corner of his eye, and his jaw tightens.
“Is she ready to talk?” Prez asks, either Lyric or Finn, I’m not sure, but his hardened eyes stay on me.
“Ready? No,” Lyric almost scoffs, and I want to shake her for talking to the president of the Rebels of the Undead this way. I could never imagine being bold enough, and it bothers me how I’m reverting to the shy and nervous girl I had been.
“No,” I find myself saying, needing to stand up for myself even if it terrifies me. Even if this man terrifies me. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready, but it sounds like you need information from me. And I sure as hell want to know why I’m here.”
Prez’s lip twitches, and I’m almost knocked to my knees when he smiles and laughs. “At least you’re honest, sweetheart. I think we all want the same thing. All the brothers have been concerned.”
He catches me off guard with that statement. My mouth snaps shut, and I wipe all emotion off my face before I believe for one minute that any of the brothers have been worried about me. Prez turns back to the room.
“Church!”
Everyone gets up to file into the room. Lyric and Finn lead me in first, and my heartbeat kicks up the second I move through the door. The room is not at all how I expected it to be. I was never allowed in, and the only time I ever heard about it was from Finn. Surprisingly, it's clean, the furniture is minimal, with a large oak table and enough chairs for each of the brothers who hold a seat at the table. There is one softer, cushioned chair that I’m ushered over to and sat down on.
“It's reserved for the ladies,” Lyric whispers to me and winks. I’m about to ask where she’ll sit, but then hold back when Karma reaches for her, sitting her on his lap. The gesture is intimate and shows the status of their relationship, which has obviously only grown and flourished while I’ve been gone.
A hand brushes mine, and I jolt out of my thoughts, only to find Finn sitting in the chair closest to me. His body angled toward mine instead of sitting facing the inner circle. I frown at him and motion for him to turn around, which only makes his smirk deepen. Before I can tell him where to shove his smirk, Prez strikes the gavel on the table, and once again, everyone is silent.
“Winnie, I think I speak for everyone when I say it's nice to see you, kid. But given the circumstances in which you were brought in, I don’t think that pleasantry is acceptable. We want to hear from you, what you’re willing to share.”
All eyes turn to me, and my cheeks flush pink from the attention. My mind screams at me, not wanting to go down the rabbit hole of my memories. They’re being nice and understanding now, but what will happen when I have to revealexactly how I ended up permanently in Marco’s clutches? Or the fact that I couldn’t get free.
I can feel Finn’s eyes boring into me. I can sense the way his body is coiled, ready to reach out and touch me if I so much as falter through my words.
“It’s a daunting experience to be under someone’s scrutiny.” The words slide from my lips, soft and slightly shaking. The room hushes, and I fight to raise my eyes to the man in front of me. The man I spent years being wary of, wanting him to be proud of me, of Finn, and of the support I offered him. My lips feel chapped, and I’m not sure if it's from the drugs I was given or the nervousness in my stomach.
“We’re not here to judge you, Winnie,” Prez says in a voice that I would say sounds almost comforting. My eyes jump to him and I will them to stay there, completely blocking everyone else in the room out.
“As I said, it’s a daunting experience to be under someone’s scrutiny all day, every day. There’s really no privacy or peace, and eventually you learn to live with having eyes on you. Eventually, you blend in, sort of become like wallpaper in the room. I was with Marco Bianchi for nine months. Only one of those months was by choice. The rest of the time I was his prisoner.”
“How did you meet him?” Prez asks softly, using a tone that reminds me of how my dad talked to me when I was little.
“I was working at a hospital in Atlanta. Marco was brought in with a severe head wound. You know how the mafia is; they wouldn’t have brought him unless it was dire. He seized on the floor, and I was able to persuade Nico, ah his right-hand man, to let me start tending to him while we waited for a doctor. At first, they didn’t want me to give him medical attention because I’m a woman, but when he started coding, Nico changed his mind. I performed CPR until they could gurney him and bringhim into the OR. In a way, I helped save his life, but I didn’t see it that way. The next day, I persuaded Nico to let his boss stay at the hospital and get the treatment he needed. In hindsight, I should have let them go home.” My voice trails off, lost in the memories. I feel a strong hand, warm and capable, squeeze mine in encouragement. “After that, I was told I would be the only nurse in his private wing. When he was ready to be discharged, I was summoned by the chief of the hospital and told that they had requested I do private home care for Marco until he fully recovered and his wound was healed. I wasn’t given a choice.”
