“I see marrying that bastard gave you a lot of confidence,” he sneers furiously. “I’ll make sure you pay for every word, you fucking ingrate.” His voice is thick with intention as he slams his hands against the cell. In the past, I’d have cowered…shrunk back, but not anymore. Elena flinches, but I don’t waver in mystance. In fact, I step forward until the metal bars of the cell feel cold against my palm.
“You’re nothing but a coward, Father.”
He hisses and jams his hand against my fingers, which are around the iron bars. I inhale sharply, pain ricocheting through my hand, but lean my face as close to his as I can get.
“You’re weak. You have blood on your hands but no spine to own it. Call yourself king all you want, but a real king doesn’t hide in some basement and push his daughters behind cages to shield his cowardice.”
He roars, nails digging into the skin of my fingers. It stings, and blood wells where his nails bite into my skin, but I hold his gaze, my rage burning hot, and he stares me down with equal intensity.
“Dominic will come for you, and I’ll be there to watch you suffer.”
An unfamiliar expression crosses his eyes before he steps back, clenching his jaw. “I’ll kill you first when I return…or maybe I’ll let Elena do it.” Darting his gaze to Elena, who lets out a scared whimper, he straightens his shirt and walks away.
I release a deep sigh and plop onto the thin, dirty mattress in the corner.
“I know him,” Elena starts after a moment of silence. I can hear the pain and brokenness in her voice. “He’ll follow through with his promise, Bella. I don’t want to kill you.”
My head pounds as I stare at the padlock that jams the cell together. I rise swiftly, holding it in my hands as if that could magically unlock it. But my strength is no match for this.
There has to be a way. I need to get out of here and inform Dominic of the disaster Father has wrought. Wheels turn in my head as I dart my gaze around the cell, trying to find anything. That’s when something clicks.
Shoving my hand into my hair, I fiddle around for a hairpin, grab it and insert it into the little keyhole.Please work,I mutter to myself.I’ve barely twisted it when Elena’s voice reaches me.
“That only works in movies.”
I don’t answer. Sweat beads my forehead as I attempt countless times to open it, but it doesn’t budge. I try to hit, yank, break…but nothing works, and slowly, my determination starts to waver, leaving frustration instead.
“No!” I bang my fist against the bars, and my knuckles sting.
“Unless you have a phone and call for help, we aren’t getting out of here.”
Phone.
My hand immediately flies to the pocket of my pants and I grit my teeth when I don’t feel it there.
“He took it while you were unconscious,” Elena sighs, the look in her eyes revealing just one thing. Resignation. Dread settles heavily in my gut. Of course, she’s been here longer than I have.
“We’re locked in, Bella. I’ve tried everything. There’s no way out.”
Chapter twenty-eight
Dominic
That cunning bastard. He fucking set me up, managed to plant those pieces of evidence. Now the Saudis think I did it. They think I killed their general’s son. And they’ll be here any moment.
The package they sent me still sits open on my desk. After the initial shock, I wanted nothing more than to storm the basement and put a bullet between Marcus’ eyes. But I had to be rational.
If we don’t find Dean or Bella in time, that bastard might be our only evidence pointing to the fact that we were framed… Marcus had admitted making the video in which he confessed I ordered the assassination on the general’s son. But admitting he was coerced into making the video isn’t enough to disprove the narrative.
And that’s one thing about the Saudi army. They don’t just stumble into war. They strike with brutality and precision…and they don’t forgive.
The general’s army is powerful. We could go against them, but the casualties may be far too great to bear…especially since all of this is stemming from Dean’s masterpiece of deception.
I must admit, that bastard was meticulous with his plan. General Malik has every reason to believe I did it. Khalid, his son, was trying to broker an arms deal with the U.S. government when he was assassinated. My mafia is the major broker of weapons in New York. It makes sense that I took out his son to keep my monopolized equation stable.
My chest burns with rage as I sit up in my chair, brainstorming. Matteo stands in the corner, silent, but his eyes are on me. We’ve readied the men for any attack and he’s waiting to go into battle.
There’s no way out of this, and that’s what angers me the most. That something so tangible is dependent on Dean’s willingness to renounce the narrative. Fuck!
