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Me: Don’t you think you’ve already done enough damage bringing drugs into Blackcastle?

Nova: It’s business, unfortunately. I have buyers, I will provide.

Nova: You’re lucky, you may not have found me otherwise.

Nova: So? What will it be?

Me: I’ve been controlled my whole life, I don’t need to sell my soul again.

Silence.

Tying myself to the Mafia to protect Kain and Jordan will be worth it if I can actually pull it off. If I don’t find them, I’ll suffer for the rest of my life in that cult, doing everything I can to end it myself. It’s the least I deserve.

This was never the way it was supposed to end. Did I know how it ended? No. But what I do know, is that my beautiful baby girl or boy is going to be the centre of my life, and I will do whatever it costs to keep them safe.

Moonlight peaks through the branches as I pocket my phone and continue strolling through the forest. A glow to the side catches my attention and I squint my eyes to focus on it. It looks like windows, and there’s figures moving about.

I speed up to get closer and come to a large warehouse where cult members are carrying bodies out. My heart immediately kickstarts in my chest, nausea swirling in the pit of my stomach.

“We found them, master!” a cheery female voice calls and my stomach bottoms out, muscles already trembling.

Jordan is carried out of the building by two members, her head hanging loosely in the air and there’s clamouring on the roof as members take out whoever was up there.

I turn, speedwalking away from the scene, dialling Nova’s number with shaky hands. She answers by the second ring.

“I need you. Now.”

35

Jordan

The sound of metal clinking against metal wakes me from my slumber, along with a throbbing of my head and my shoulders ache like I’ve done five hundred push ups.

It’s cold. Freezing, even. Kain must be on his patrol.

Groaning, my head rolls against something hard when I try to switch positions. Then I realise my back is digging into something hard, too. I peel my eyes open to a dim light while my head spins and nausea settles in my abdomen.

“What the hell?” I mutter.

Pins and needles spread through my fingers, then all up my arm.

A frigid breeze flies past me, making me shiver. Instinctively, I go to wrap my arms around myself, but they’re halted by cold metal.

My eyes ping open then, and my breathing sharpens.

Darkness.

A dim bit of light shines onto the iron bars in front of me, allowing me to see what looks like a concrete cell on the other side of the room, also caged in by bars. A steady drip, drip, drip sounds somewhere. It takes me too long to realise I’m in my bra and pants, and my arms are trapped in iron cuffs hanging on chains off the wall. I yank on them, ignoring the pain radiating through me.

“Help!” I shout, immediately regretting my decision. That probably just alerted whoever is keeping me fucking hostage.

A groan sounds in the room, and I jerk on the spot, whipping my head around, only to realise I’m surrounded by wet concrete. Movement catches my eye from the cell opposite me and more chains clink. I swallow the razor-sharp dryness in my throat.

Another groan, and I recognise the sound of the voice. “Kain?”

“Little devil?” he mumbles and relief floods through me.

Fuck. Where is everyone else?