Page 37 of Death By Chocolate

"You disappeared on us, my little star.” His smile doesn't reach those eyes. Never has. Dead eyes that I missed or overlooked in my childhood. “You betrayed your husband. You betrayed me."

"You sold me." The truth crystalizes, as sharp and cold as the Alaskan air. Years of questions finally finding their answers. "To him. For what? More power? More money?”

"Business is business." He shrugs, elegant and dismissive. "Oscar wanted you as a wife who understood discipline. Your bitch of a mother did before she ran off with your sister. And I need someone who understands loyalty. You wanted to work with me,” he pauses, “and you will.”

Omar strolls in with the nurse on his arm, Rhys trails behind, like the dog he is with three other men. Around his neck is a white snake, another constrictor like Friend. I shove down my revulsion and fear.

“Daniella,” Omar says, my name with dramatic flair. “I’m so glad to have you back, la familia. He kisses the nurse, passionately, before making introductions. “You’ve met my Barbie doll, Tiffanie.”

She preens with his approval and praise. Stupid ass pet doesn’t realize he’s a slave master.

“Barbies are toys. Your blonde bimbo, not good enough to marry,” I laugh.

Her smile vanishes. Omar’s lips pull back, he flashes a wicked jackal grin.

“My brother told me you had a smart mouth. After I fuck it, maybe I’ll have my new Buddy,” he kisses the snake’s head,“hold you tight while Tiffanie staples it closed. We’ll see if da’bitch who thought she was tough in her fancy suit, spews the same shit when she’s coiled up without food or water.”

I cross my arms over my chest, making sure to contain the shiver. Fucking sadistic bastard. “I hate TicTacs, so no thanks on your tiny dick mint.”

The look in Omar’s stony eyes radiates pure evil. The tension in the room escalates as my jailer taunts me with his plans. My death will be a slow one. Neither my father nor Rhys, two men I trusted, came to my defense. They will let this monster torture me. I don’t need them. I don’t need House.

Omar shoves Tiffanie in my direction. Then gestures to Rhys. “Get da’bitch on her knees.”

My father turns to exit, leaving me to my fate.

“No,” Omar bellows. “You stay. Take some pointers on how to train your bitches.”

Tiffanie grabs for me. I waste no time, fucking around with her. She’s in front of me. I strike fast and hard, delivering a heel strike, driving her head up and back. Barbie goes down, her knees pop like microwave popcorn on unforgiving tiles. Perfect. Using my toned leg, I bend my knee driving it up under her chin, nail meet hammer. The satisfying sound of teeth shattering fills my ears. “Tap, Tap, Barbie doll.”

Strong arms wrap around, a crushing bear hug. Rhys, strong fucker.

“Gotcha,” he chuckles.

A scream builds in my throat, primal and raw. All these years running, building my strength, creating my fortress of technology and protocols. And in the end, I'm still just property to be traded. I have to get out of position. Bend forward from the waist; making it more difficult for him to lift me off my feet. The lingerie is slippery and it works in my favor.

But before the scream can break free, the lights go out.

Glass shatters somewhere above. The whisper of steel through air—a sound I know from countless training sessions. Then screaming, but not mine. The wet sound of bodies hitting floor.

When emergency lights flicker on, casting everything in blood-red shadows, Xeno stands in the doorway. There’s a gun in one hand and blood drips from his sword, none of it his. His eyes meet mine, wild and fierce and absolutely certain. In the melee, Omar has vanished.

Behind me, Rhys’s head explodes, a juicy melon splattering the walls crimson.

Xeno smiles. “I missed you, ma cherie.”

Tears fill my eyes. Xeno’s here. The dark knight braves the Alaskan tundra for—me. “Yes. my love—”

My father reaches for his gun. Too slow. Xeno moves like lightning, blade singing. But I'm moving too, muscle memory taking over as I slam my elbow into my father's nose. The crack of cartilage is satisfying in a way I'll examine later, in therapy.

He drops, gasping. I grab his gun, pointing it at his head even as Xeno's sword slices threw his right wrist. “X marks the spot, old man bitch.”

"Where's Omar?" I demand.

My father laughs, it’s a cruel sound. "Waiting. Waiting to mow you and this mutt down.”

A woman materializes out of the mist to slam the hilt of her gun into my father’s temple. “You will never find something safe to do, disgusting, perverted bastard.”

The blow echoes off the walls. Xeno and I both stare at…my mom.

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