“How can they do that?” Jester asks, his voice thick with anger. Not at me, I realize, but at how I was treated by my employers.
My lips curl. “They were offered a huge chunk of money that was going to be used for a new wing and to buy a few new machines that were imperative to the PEDs unit.”
“Typical,” Squirrel grunts, before shaking his head.
“They made a safety plan for me. I was to check in with Brody, a friend of mine and a doctor I worked under frequently. Once when I arrived, mid-shift, and when I returned home. Things were fine at first. Typical. I was given directions on where to go in the house and areas to avoid. I was only to talk to Nico and Marco. None of the other soldiers were allowed to even breathe in my direction, which worked for me. I was nervous about being there. As the weeks went on and Marco started improving, he started trying to prolong my time with him. Stay for dinner. Come earlier for breakfast. He asked me to travel with him to New York when he had a meeting he had to attend. I kept my distance. I was a professional.” My mind reels over everything that happened. How, maybe I should have seen what was happening. I should have made Brody aware sooner that Marco’s advances were getting more forceful.
“The more I turned down time with him, I could see him getting frustrated, but I pushed it aside. My time was almost up. What happened was the perfect catalyst to ensure I couldn’t get away.”
I have to pause. Tears stream down my face, and the memories of that night rush back in. I remember being terrified. My inner morals wrestled with the need to save that boy’s life. While also knowing that if I hadn’t, there was a very real possibility I would have ended up dead anyway.
“Take your time.” Lyric pats my arm gently, her gaze encouraging, like she can see the storm I’m fighting.
Taking a deep breath in and then letting it out, I jump into the horrifying, gory details of what I was brought into. The choice I had to make, and the gun that was trained on me, didn’t exactly allow me to refuse. I can feel the tension in the room as I recount that night. Every medical decision I made, knowing it went against the oath I took and the expectations of my employers when I signed on to work there. My voice shudders when I get to the end and the words that Marco callously whispered to me, before ensuring I was never able to leave his side.
“So Marco has a child out of wedlock? I bet dear old dad doesn’t know that. Let alone his wife,” Bullet scoffs. A few of the guys agree with him.
“I don’t think so. It was very hush-hush. And maybe that's why they didn’t bring him to the hospital. I don’t know.” I shrug, contemplating how very few of his men looked surprised that night. “After that, he acted as if he owned me. I never left the mansion again, and before I knew it, my phone was taken. I’m sure the hospital didn’t bat an eye and just accepted whatever lie Marco paid them off with. I was at his beck and call, tended to his soldiers, lived with him, and was his personal doll to dressup and play with.” I shudder, and once again Lyric squeezes my arm.
Everyone descends again into silence. Prez runs a hand down his face and exhales slowly. “I speak for every member here when I tell you how sorry we are that this happened to you. The reason you were brought here is that the club has an alliance with the Bianchis. Marco’s father called me and gave me a heads-up that the Familia has been having issues within. He needed Marco to be on his game, to help get out the rot that was infiltrating them. Not only were they at war with the Cartel, but they were facing a coup. His father asked if we could protect Marco’s asset so that he could focus. We only learned after the fact that the asset was a woman.”
“It was my intel that the asset was a woman. There was speculation on whether she was his mistress or if she was being held prisoner. I didn’t know it was you. I should have guessed after our last phone call and then not hearing from you for months.” Lyric lets out a shuddering breath. I reach forward and take her hand in mine.
“It’s not your fault,” I tell her, feeling helpless when her eyes fill with tears. “I wanted to tell someone, but I never saw anyone outside of his household staff. No one who could help me, anyway. I’m not surprised the intel looked muddled. I was a prisoner, and when I didn’t comply with what he wanted from me, he would use someone else’s life to ensure I participated. It probably did look like I was his mistress to outside eyes. I wanted to escape, but I couldn’t.” My voice breaks off, and I choke on a sob. “This wasn’t the first time Marco drugged me. The first time was when he placed trackers inside me.”
Finn’s hand spasms in mine, flexing, before gripping me tightly. His hand crushes my fingers, but it keeps me grounded. It keeps those bad memories locked out.
“Fuck,” Prez swears, his voice loud and harsh. My heart warms a little toward the big man when I see the concern on his face. “Winnie, I need to know now so we can help you. Does any part of you want to return to Bianchi when he calls to collect you?”
My chest tightens, fear keeping me silent until all I can do is shake my head dismissively. Panic surges up at the same time that the room feels like it’s going to spin.
“No, I?—”
“She isn’t fucking going with him,” Finn growls.
“If she wants to go back, we can’t stop her,” Prez interjects. Finn’s jaw hardens and clenches.
“She isn’t his.”
“I’m right here.” I stand, my legs wobble, but they hold me up. My hand slips from Finn’s grip before my gaze moves around the table. I look each of them in the eye. “I was a prisoner and forced to play a part to stay alive. Marco is attractive; he’s charming when it can benefit him, but he’s a monster.”
I glance at Lyric. “I need to see a doctor, preferably an OB/GYN. I want a full blood work-up and STD screen. Then I need one of you, with the steadiest hands, to cut out the trackers. There’s one in my back that I can’t reach. I can cut out the other two on my own, though.”
The room is quiet while they each watch me, probably wondering if this is the calm before my storm. Surprisingly, I kept my voice steady and strong, but the anxiousness, the fear, and the anger weren’t too far behind. For now, I’m swallowing it down. I need to take care of myself before I can save myself.
“I can do that.” Lyric nods, and the approving gleam in her eyes makes my lips twitch.
Prez clears his throat. “Inspector will take out the trackers. Send one of the prospects to get the suture kit and antiseptic. Let the gate know to expect whoever Doc manages to scroungeup. Karma, Dodger, and Squirrel, let's convene after. Church dismissed.”
Without waiting for questions or further comments, Prez swings the gavel down. A few of the members book it out of there, having their instructions, and a few are slower to get up. What I did not expect was the number of brothers who patted my shoulder or gave me a one-arm hug. By the time the room is empty, tears are swimming in my eyes. Blowing out a shaky breath, I fall into Lyric’s arms easily.
“Let's get you comfortable,” she mumbles, clearly holding back her own set of emotions. Bullet is the only one still waiting outside the room when we step out. His familiar hazel eyes roam over me, the gesture protective rather than judging.
“Is there anything I can get you, Winnie?”
I shake my head, feeling more fatigued after church. “No, I’m good.”
He nods and scratches the back of his neck. “I missed you around here. So did the others.”
