Page 31
Someone said those words to me after my rescue.
Amidst the jungle and commotion of so many terrorized girls, I didn’t dwell on them because during my transport and darkest hours of my life, I’d already vowed to myself that if I got out of that hell, I would make Tyran regret daring me to hack into some mobster’s bank account.
Now those words came back to me, I couldn’t quite decide who Tyran was.
My friend or foe.
Tyran didn’t believe me when I told him I would never testify against him. I couldn’t even blame him. However, there was no doubt in my mind that Tyran would never let me walk away once he was finished with me.
He knew, as I did, that the shield of spousal privilege only applied during marriage, and once I walked away from him, the FBI would be on me like a fly on shit to put me on the stand against him.
After all, they had been part of the reason I was in hiding too. And the Callahans… There was no way they would leave a loose end like me alive and free, especially if they thought I might eventually testify against them.
So, I would bide my time and hope I didn’t break.
The panic attack once Tyran got on top of me was embarrassing. So far, nobody had witnessed it except for my best friend, Kai. Ironically, it was during our first time. Needless to say, neither one of us enjoyed that sexual encounter.
“Welcome to your luxurious prison, my soon-to-be wife,” Tyran announced in a mocking tone as he passed the threshold of the castle.
“It’s yours?” I breathed, surprised.
“Of course. You like it?”
I bit my bottom lip, ignoring him.
He hated my guts. I couldn’t blame him. Maybe if he’d give me a chance to explain, he could understand why I did it. Of course, it wouldn’t make it right, but maybe we could be okay again.
Yeah, right, my mind scoffed. Your actions put him in prison.
“I can walk, you know,” I grumbled.
“I know.”
He didn’t lower me but instead carried me deeper into the castle and then into the living room.
“Any special requests, blondie?” he asked, setting me in the leather armchair closest to the fireplace, then swiftly uncuffing me.
I rubbed my wrists, happy to be free of those blasted handcuffs.
“Could I go back to my cottage if I did?” I muttered, glancing around and trying not to look impressed.
He chuckled without humor. “Not a chance in hell.”
He kicked off his muddy combat boots, then slid my Uggs off one at a time and discarded them in the corner by the entrance.
“Then can I have a glass of your strongest drink, please?”
He didn’t say anything but turned and started preparing a drink. He came back and handed it to me.
I didn’t even ask what it was. I downed it in one go, letting the burn trickle down my throat and into the pit of my stomach. I prayed it would do the trick tonight, then focused on studying the inside of Tyran’s home.
From the outside, the castle looked gloomy and somewhat scary. Its dark stone walls rose against the night, severe and imposing, with narrow windows. It reminded me of structures described in Irish mythologies that housed lonely lords and mythical creatures.
But on the inside, it was a completely different story. It was warm and comfortable, appearing unexpectedly cozy for such a large place.
Soft pools of golden light spilled across the polished floors, chasing away the shadows gathered in the corners. The furnishings were expensive without being ostentatious, a strange mixture of old-world elegance and masculine simplicity. Heavy curtains framed the tall windows and the faint scent of burning wood lingered in the air.
Moonlight poured through the tall windows, painting pale silver rectangles across the hardwood floors. Opposite them, flames danced lazily in the wide stone fireplace, the fire snapping and crackling as logs shifted in the grate.
