Page 83 of Uprising

“What?” I snap stepping forward. My heart is thumping in my chest, my anger is suddenly soaring.

“You think she’s not pregnant already?” He smirks. “Darius hasn’t stopped fucking her since Carter handed her over to him.”

I can’t think. I can’t breathe. The room feels like it’s spinning.

“When she gives him a child, when they have their perfect family then…”

I don’t let him finish that sentence. I slam my fists back into him, breaking ribs, driving my anger wherever I can land a punch.

The thought of her pregnant, of having to endure that, of bearing him a child. I can’t bear it. I can’t even comprehend it.

As I blink I see Lara, in my head, I see all the moments that they stole from us. The moments we should have been able to cherish.

I see Rose, as I imagined her, with her belly swollen, with my hands holding her, feeling our child kicking beneath her stomach. And I’m there, holding her hand, soothing her, witnessing the birth of our child, seeing the joy in her face, seeing the tears too, and knowing that my own are falling at the incredible joy it is to be parents. That this is our first child. And that, god willing, there would be more, as many as Rose wants. It would be our family. Ours. And no one would come between us.

I can see her first steps, I can hear her first words, the first time she laughed, the first time she danced.

My daughter. Mine and Rose’s.

And yet they stole that, every moment, every part of our history.

I’m stood over him, the man who ultimately is responsible for it all and my hand is itching so bad to pick up the knife on the side and slide it across his throat, to slice through his neck and watch as his blood spurts out.

But that joy, that moment, that’s not mine to take.

“I’m not going to kill you.” I murmur. “I’m going to keep you alive, keep torturing you, keeping beating the shit out of you. I’m going to make you pay with blood for everything you’ve done to your daughter. Everything you’ve done to Lara too.”

He looks up, meeting my gaze with the one eye that can still open.

“When I have Rose, when she is safe, and only then will you die.”

He doesn’t reply. He just lies there, in a pool of his own blood and I turn on my heel making sure to leave him in the dark once more.

Rose

The Cuckoo Club.

The name shines, emblazoned in neon red in the foyer. Of course they didn’t put it out on the main street, out where any mere passer-by might see.

I’ve heard things about this place. I’ve heard enough stories of what goes on here to already feel my adrenaline spiking as it sets in what I’m wearing, how he’s doled me up like a treat.

Darius keeps me close to him as we walk further in.

My nerves are on edge. I’m already beginning to tremble. Music is pumping in a heady beat almost reminiscent of sex. Everything is in a shade of red and black like that is their entire colour palate. All around are women, barely dressed, dancing, no, writhing on various stages as men ogle at their feet.

The lighting is low, enough to make it feel sultry, sexy even, but under it, it’s obvious what this place is and the kind of people who come here.

I don’t understand why Darius has broughtmehere though. Is this some power play? Is this some new form of humiliation? My gut tells me it’s to send a message, to make a statement. Around us it feels like the city is collapsing into chaos. I know Roman is behind it, I know he’s turning the screws and that soon, really soon he’ll force this battle out into the open.

The city feels like a pressure cooker. And any minute it’s going to blow.

And yet we are here, partying, just like Nero did, dancing on the rooftops as the embers begin to spark beneath our feet.

Men in suits seem to be everywhere, drinking, enjoying themselves. As my eyes adjust I see something else; the women aren’t just dancing for them, they’re…

“Does it turn you on?” Darius asks in my ear.

I jump like a bolt of lightning has hit me. “Wwhat?” I half gasp.

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