Page 51 of Mine to Love
Killian and Milo have taken one of the planes and are on their way to Montana now to retrieve him. While there’s no cell service down here, I expect they should arrive at any moment. And, in just a few short hours, the process will begin. Although, perhaps, it has already begun. With this one last bath in blood, I hope to extract the darkness from my soul just as much as I plan to vanquish the demon that has haunted Darcy for far too many years. It’s unlikely that this will be my last kill, but, perhaps, it will be the last time I have to summon the parts of me I don’t like to protect the ones I love. A final act of war for long-deserved peace.
The dungeon itself is much like the one at the Amato estate given the buildings were designed in the same early 1800s era. Everything is made of stone and iron and dimly lit with open-flame lanterns. There’s a larger central space where I stand now, preparing my weapons. And there are two holding cells for prisoners. Most people nowadays have converted theirs into wine cellars, never fully learning the history of the ancient buildings they inhabit. But not us. And, if it weren’t for Darcy, I’d be putting one of those holding cells to good use to prolong Clive’s torture, as he deserves.
She didn’t want to sleep a night with him in the same city. She wanted to know that when she saw me next, he’d be dead, and she’d be free. It was a compromise I could not deny her, which is the reason for the preparation now. I want every second with that sick bastard to be agonizing.
I have ropes laced with acid to mimic every time he choked Darcy with uncaring hands. I have knives of different shapes to mark him the same way he marked her. I have a bag to plummet him into darkness, like when he locked Darcy in that closet. I even drilled nails into the walls in random places so he can feel what Darcy felt when he threw her repeatedly into a wall so hard that the decoration hanging there fell and the nail behind it punctured her skin.
Anger rises in me as I think back over all the stories Darcy has told me, all the pain he inflicted on her flesh and soul, all the times he not only beat but invaded her body and spoke harsh lies to her. There is no justice, no vengeance that will remove the stain of him from her mind. I know that. But this is something and then, there will be nothing, nothing left of Clive Cunningham but ashes swallowed by the Mississippi. Though, as my eyes find the metal pipe with spikes on all sides, far too large for his rectum, I suspect he’ll be begging for death by the time I’ve finished with him. Yes, it will take every ounce of darkness inside me to deliver this sentence. But, on the other side is freedom—freedom for us both.
It’s then that the sound of footsteps draws my attention to the stone stairwell leading to the main floor of The Compound. I place my knife and sharpening tool on the table with all the other weapons. A moment later, Damon appears with anxious eyes and a rigidness to his shoulders that suggests something is wrong. “What’s happened?” I ask, clenching my fists.
Damon sighs as he shoves his hands into his pockets and lowers his eyes to the ground. For once, he appears nervous. That thought casts a chill upon my skin. It could be anything. It could be an update from the guys or a problem with Aidan. It could even be more cartel chaos. But, for Damon to be nervous—either because of the news or in anticipation of my reaction to the news—my guess is, this hits closer to home. “Damon, what’s going on?” I ask again, losing my patience.
He looks at me. “The guys made it to the cabin, but he wasn’t there.”
“And?” That’s frustrating, mostly because it delays my plans. But that’s not all. It can’t be.
“What was there was a folder from Serena Santos, postmarked after her death. Her contingency plan to fuck you from the grave, I suppose. It detailed Darcy and Delilah’s whereabouts. There were pictures and addresses of frequented locations, including your house.”
Rage courses through my veins, along with confusion. Damon is quiet as I pace and process. Process, that’s what I need to do instead of punching the stone wall I know won’t give an inch. I’d assumed Serena only found out about Darcy upon my visit to Mexico. I figured she’d been having Gabriel watch me ahead of every visit, trying to see if there was anything she could use against me in our negotiations. That, or it’d been so long since our last meeting that she was spooked and wanted to make sure I was still an ally when Gabriel discovered my relationship with Darcy. But, for her to have this contingency plan in place—which included her learning both Darcy’s identityandClive’s—she would’ve had to have known about Darcy and Delilah for weeks, if not months ahead of time.
She didn’t enact the plan to take Darcy away from me sooner, because she was hoping to use her against me. But, if that’s true, then there’s another player on the board. There’s someone else in New Orleans watching me,us. And now, this oversight may cost me the woman I love. All of this is in addition to the very real fact that Clive Cunningham is on his way and if he finds Darcy before I do…
“When was the postmark? What day?” I ask, freezing in my tracks. Damon glances at his phone, zooming in on the pictures Killian and Milo sent him.
“It was four days ago.” I pinch my eyes closed and immediately run toward the stairs. “What?Gio? What am I missing?” Damon trails after me as I take the steps two at a time.
“That’s enough time for him to have made it to New Orleans,” I yell over my shoulder.
As I reach the top of the stairs, I shove open the iron gate with anger and fear fueling my strength. It slams against the stone wall of the building, drawing Zane and Xander’s attention as I angrily stalk through the courtyard toward the iron staircase leading to our surveillance room.
“Okay, Gio, take a breath,” Damon says as he waves for Zane and Xander to join us. They do, following behind the two of us. The anxiety and tension pulsating between us makes me feel suffocated and like I could vomit. I grab my black t-shirt and air it out as my body temperature rises.
“No one is getting past the security system at the estate,” Damon continues. “Darcy and Delilah are safe behind the gates, and we can all be there in an hour to watch after them. I can even send Zane and Xander there now on the bikes. Forty minutes tops. They’re going to be alright.” It’s then that Damonplaces his hands on my shoulders as I fumble with my key to the surveillance room, and I lose it. Spinning around, I shove him off me. He stumbles into Zane and Xander. All of them are quiet with wide eyes as I feel myself panting.
As Damon steadies and stands, my heartbeat increases, and my ears ring so loudly I can hardly hear myself when I say, “They aren’t at home.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, knowing I can’t call Darcy to warn her. One, it’ll scare her. Two, I can’t even tell her to meet me at home because Clive could be there waiting. That’s if he doesn’t already have her. My only option right now is to track her and find her, which I can do using either her cellphone or the necklace I gifted her upon our return to New Orleans. I got Delilah a bracelet to match and told them both to always wear them when off-property. They don’t know what they’re for and I hoped I’d never have to use them for this purpose. Still, knowing I can find them does nothing to steady my heart or my hand as I again try to maneuver the key through the lock.
It’s then that Damon gently pushes my arm down and opens the door with his own key. He knows the fear tearing at my insides. He’s felt it. I know, as it inches its way through my veins, nerves, and bones, it’s the kind of fear that leaves a lingering impression. “We’ll find them, Gio. We protect our own, remember? Without hesitation.” As he repeats my own words back to me, I find the strength to steady my breathing and calm my mind. I nod.
I once lost it because of my concern for Darcy’s safety. And it was only in the knick of time that I got to her before something terrible happened. Fate may not be so kind to us this time. I can’t afford to lose it, not for a moment longer. I have to be strong, calm, and collected. I have to be Gio Moretti—without hesitation.
46
What the Southtypically lacks in temperature and snowfall, it makes up for with decorations and holiday cheer. Though, even this week, as if summoned by the pure willpower of the people, the air is actually cold and crisp, with no hint of humidity detectable. In fact, it’s so cold, Delilah and I had to pull out our winter coats for our trip beyond the grounds. Both camel in color, they keep us warm as we walk through the French Quarter, admiring the decor and doing some last-minute Christmas shopping for Gio and the others.
One week before Christmas and the streets of the French Quarter are filled with holiday tunes played by the ever-present street-musicians, while the buildings are all wearing their Christmas best. There’s a red bow tied to every streetlamp, garland draped along every second-story iron railing, and lights of various kinds wrapped around the columns so common with the architecture of the city. And that’s just the start of it.
The store displays are on another level. I’ve never seen more Christmas trees, toy trains, or poinsettias. Not to mention, the decorations at Audubon Park and City Park are some of the most enchanting things I’ve ever seen. All the Oak trees are wrappedin lights and various oversized decorations fill the green. Gio took us to see them last night. I suppose he knew I needed a distraction given what today is. Perhaps he needed one too.
Despite the holiday cheer surrounding us and filling our home, the past couple of days have been a little tense. As the wind whips at my cheeks, it’s as if Mother Nature knows that something evil this way comes. I pull Delilah closer to me, suddenly feeling uneasy, as she carries the little bag with Gio’s gift. I wanted to give him something special, something nice yet sentimental. And I wanted Delilah to be a part of it. Her attachment to Gio has been growing ever since they first met. But, after she saw Gio and I share a kiss, she’s started calling himdaddy. And, for all intents and purposes, he is her dad, more than Clive ever was.
He provides for her, plays with her, teaches her, protects her, and carries her to bed when she falls asleep on the couch. He dances with her in the living room around the Christmas tree. The two of us take turns reading to her at night. He would do anything for her. I know it in my heart. And I am so thankful that she has him, that she gets a second chance at having a dad just as much as I get a second chance at having a husband. But, with Gio’s perfect gift picked and a few extras for Ana, Damon, and Ariana, perhaps it’s time we head back home. Something just doesn’t feel right.
My pace slows as I try to read the street name up ahead and remember how to get back to the Range Rover. And that’s when it hits me—the reason for the sudden unease gnawing at my stomach. The smell of him, sweat and dirt mixed with the faintest hint of cheap, nauseating peppermint, fills my nostrils. As my eyes widen in horror, my blood turns to ice. I’m frozen as Clive wraps one hand around my wrist from behind me and says, “My sweet, sweet Darcy,stupidDarcy.” I
drop the bags in my hands as his breath cuts me like knives. As it trails up my neck, it leaves goosebumps in his wake. And, before I know it, before I can even scream or tell Delilah to run, Clive pulls me into the alley to our right.
