Page 15

And there is so much ink covering the parts of his body I can see. I had only been gone for four years. When had he gotten so many damn tattoos?

“Brix,” I whisper, taking a step closer.

I lost the blanket when Kato grabbed me, but I don’t care. I take another step closer and lift a hand, reaching for him.

And all he does is look me over from head to toe. Not in the admiring kind of way, either. It’s a look of disgust, almost like he doesn’t recognize me.

That disgust turns into anger and hurt when his gaze zeroes in on the ruined letters they’d each carved into my skin as our private wedding ceremony, each brandishing the razor. Brixton’s B was a little choppy, just like his handwriting.

It’s now barely visible through the crosshatched scars.

Without another word, he turns and leaves the room, but keeps the door open. He knows I won’t go anywhere. I can’t. That guard is still standing outside my room, his back to me, hands clasped in front of him.

Just as Kato said, several men carry in bags and boxes as I hug the blanket around me again to keep these strangers from seeing me – I charge for that shit – setting them near the closet before leaving. I guess I’m supposed to unpack everything.

As I open the first bag, heavy thuds herald the arrival of someone else a second before Madd crosses over the threshold of the room without bothering to knock. And why would he? Apparently, I’m no longer the woman they love but instead a prisoner. A fucking political ploy.

Why else would Kato declare I’ll be marrying him while Maddox made sure I knew all of society would be made aware of it at the start of the week?

In Madd’s big hand hangs a garment bag and on his face is a nearly cruel smirk. “Here you go. Today’s choice of attire,” he says, laying the bag on the bed. “I couldn’t give a shit what kindof panties you wear underneath, but no bra. I want to see those tits bouncing with every step.”

And just like the three have done since I woke, he gives me a stink eye and leaves me to take care of all the shit that’s been loaded into this room.

I turn and stare at the zipped garment bag with equal amounts curiosity and dread, because he looked far too proud of himself when he delivered that stupid thing.

I could continue packing everything away in the nude, but the door is still wide open, and that guard is still out there.

Not to mention I’ve already spotted three cameras in my room with red lights, meaning any of the three could be watching me right now. And if they aren’t going to listen to me, if they’re suddenly going to treat me like the enemy, then…fuck them. I refuse to give them a show.

Before I can psych myself out, I drop the box I was working on and approach the garment bag, yanking the zipper down without so much as taking a breath first.

A groan leaves my lips as I stare at the dress inside. If one could even call it that.

The material is thin and there’s a deep drop in both the front and back of the dress. And that’s why Madd doesn’t want me to wear a bra – more than enough cleavage will be spilling from the dress no matter what I do, short of putting a t-shirt under it.

They aren’t the same boys I remember, the same three boys I loved more than I knew was possible.

But you know what? I’m definitely not that stupid, naïve girl either.

I had given up everything to keep them safe, to keep them alive, to keep their fucking family alive. And they’re treating me as though I had a choice in disappearing. They haven’t given me even a second to try to explain, constantly cutting me off.

Or, you know, strangling me so I couldn’t speak.

So…fuck them. I’ll treat them as I would any other asshole who thinks they can control me. I’ll play along, play their game, bide my time, and next time there won’t be a chance in hell they’ll be able to find me.

I pull the dress from the bag and groan at the heels weighing down the bottom. That means Maddox expects me to traipse around the house half-dressed and in heels, but I’m sure as hell not wearing those things while I deal with packing away more clothes than any one woman needs.

I swear they bought more clothes than me and my mom had combined when I still lived at home.

Tugging the dress over my head without showering since there isn’t a single toiletry or towel in the bathroom, I think about all the emotions that crashed through me when I realized the intruder in my apartment was a ghost of my past, someone I dreamed of nearly every night.

That’s when I realize that I haven’t seen my duffel bag anywhere since I woke up. All my money was shoved into the bottom below the extra change of clothes, makeup, and the outfit I needed to wash before I wore it again.

Not only did I earn that fucking money, but if someone doesn’t head back to Georgia and retrieve it as soon as possible, someone else will. As in, one of my lovely neighbors will note my absence, kick in my door, and take whatever they think is of value or can be sold.

Looking around the room at all the boxes and bags, I decide the money is of far more value to me right now. I’ll play their game, but I’m still going to take off the first chance I get and will need that stack of cash to get started somewhere else with something as simple as a roof over my head and food in my belly.

Can’t say I’m overly sad about my car being left behind, and I have zero doubt it’ll either be long gone or destroyed within a matter of days.