Page 76 of Bared Betrayal
Ever.
The world is full of evil men, and I’m one of them, but no one is ever going to hurt her like that again. Some monster fucking broke her in the worst ways imaginable. But even after everything she’s been through, she’s still surviving—barely, maybe, but surviving, nonetheless. She has no idea how fucking strong she is. Her cracks and scars add layer after layer of delicate spider webs on her soul. I want to fill each one with molten gold and watch as she fuses back together, whole but not the same. Made more beautiful by the damage she endured. Forged stronger, like steel.
A white-hot surge of rage courses through my body. That fucker should thank God all he got on his way to hell was a few bullets to the chest. If he was still alive, breathing the same air as Kallie, I would hunt him down, cut out his heart, and lay it at her feet. A man like that doesn’t deserve to die quickly. He should suffer until he begs for death, and then suffer some more.
Kallie rolls over to her side and into me. Her head just finds my shoulder and her arm wraps around my waist, holding me to her. It feels good. Too fucking good. And while I watch her sleep, wisps of golden hair framing her face, her features delicate, soft, and so fucking beautiful, I find myself wishing she was mine. This girl, this perfect woman, needs a man to protect her. No, she doesn’t need a man. She needs me. I will burn this world to the ground to keep her safe. I could do it, too. The people I know will help me protect her. I have powerful friends, and a few sick fucks who owe me favors. There isn’t a single favor I wouldn’t cash in for this beautifully broken bird.
I reach for my phone and send Davian a text.
Look up the name Kalliana Pearson. I need to find out where her parents are.
Not even a full minute goes by, and I get a message back.
Mom’s in a clinic, can’t remember shit. Dad lives in Naperville.
Fucker abandoned his family.
Sooooo… do you want him dead… or…
Not yet… probably… but not yet.
I have never felt this overwhelming sense to protect someone. Not even Sebastian’s mother had me feeling like this. It’s like Kallie woke a side to me I never knew existed. Like I was fucking born to protect her, keep her safe, and take care of her in every goddamn way possible. It’s like my need for perfection is drawn to her brokenness—my craving for control gravitating to her chaos. Two opposite colors of the spectrum, yet put together, they create the strongest contrast.
I reach out and gently brush a strand of hair from her face. My broken little doll. Now that I know she craves pain because she feels she deserves it, I want to let her see she’s wrong. How do I teach her to crave the pain because it makes her pleasure more intense? Not because it’s some kind of cosmic retribution. When she’s on my cross, feeling the bite of the whip, or strapped to my bed, feeling my cock punish her little ass or my fingers around her throat, I want it to be because she likes it.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand. It’s a text from the guy I have tailing my son. If someone is threatening Kallie, I’m assuming it’s a threat to Sebastian as well.
Sebastian is heading home in the morning. Flight scheduled to land at 10 a.m.
He’s not supposedto be home for another week.
As carefully as I can, I get up and replace my body with a pillow. She moans, a little line appearing between her brows. For a moment, I’m worried I woke her, but she wraps herself around the pillow and settles.
I step out of the room and close the door behind me and make the call.
“Mr. King,” he answers.
“Sebastian’s not supposed to come back for another week.”Why is this bothering me so fucking much?
“He got a call today. Something about a family emergency.”
“What emergency?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
“You don’t know?” I snap. “Then what the fuck am I paying you for?”
“Sir, honestly, I don’t even know why he’s here, because he’s not filming anything. It’s just a bunch of parties, one after the other.”
“Stay on him, and for the love of God, find out what the emergency is.”
I hang up and massage my temples. There’s a heaviness in my gut I don’t like. This fucking feeling of foreboding and gnawing disappointment that my son is heading home early, because that means…that means she’s going back to him.
Fuck.
My phone vibrates in my palm, and I curse when I see the name flashing on the screen. Fuck my life. “Davian.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you sound like a dick when you answer your phone?”
