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“How soon can we move him?” Dad joins the group, putting his arm around Aunt Freya who looks like she’s about to faint.

I can’t imagine the kind of pain she’s going through. She already had to go through something similar when Tristan was only ten years old. Getting caught in the fire almost killed him. Now, twenty years later, she’s going through the same pain all over again because of that fucker. Tristan wanted the Senator to live out his years in shame and with nothing. But the only way to stop the Senator is by killing him.

“Our hospital has the latest technology. Archer is getting the best care there is. I promise you.” Donata’s gaze darts around the group, until recognition registers on her face. “You want to take him out of the country, don’t you? And not because you’re looking for better medical care.”

“Did Santino tell you?” I ask.

“He did. More or less.” She stuffs her hands in the pockets of her white coat. “He left out a few details. But I got the gist of it. Archer isn’t safe.” She scans the room again. “Where’s his wife?”

“She’s not coming.” I shake my head. “But his mom can decide for him, right? If he stays or goes?”

“Of course.” Her smile is full of sympathy for Aunt Freya. “I’m assuming you’re wanting to take him back to the UK. But as his doctor, my recommendation would be not to move him. Even if you use a helicopter, it’s too risky. He could die in the process.”

Aunt Freya weeps silently into Dad’s shoulder. Dad clenches his jaw then asks, “How long before he can be safely discharged?”

“He’s physically in great shape, and he’s young. So I would say minimum two months to recover. The bullet didn’t hit any organs. He got lucky. But it will take a while for him to be able to regain full function of his legs.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “He might not walk again?”

“It’s a possibility.” She bites her lip, then switches her attention to Aunt Freya. “If you’ll excuse me, Archer needs me. And he needs blood. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Aunt Freya takes in a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

I exchange a look with Jacob. He slightly shakes his head as if he knows I’m about to say something crazy. “Before you go, Dr. Salvatore. We need a favor.”

“Of course, anything. A friend of Santino’s is a friend of mine.” She smiles.

Despite the hours she’s spent in surgery trying to save Tristan, she’s determined to do whatever it takes to help us. Her angelic features remind me that miracles can happen. This war with the Senator is far from over.

“Guys, hear me out.” I look to Dad and then Aunt Freya. “Like Dad said, we need to assume the Senator knows everything. Do you remember what Tristan said the night before we came to New York?”

“He said a lot of things that night, Gardenia.” Jacob watches me intently.

“Right.” I run a hand through my hair. “He said that if things didn’t work out. If we were ever in danger, we should go back to the beginning.” I take in a breath. “This is it. We’re all in danger. So now we have to do something he’s not going to like.” I am sure Tristan is going to hate me for this. Mainly because Paloma will be destroyed by the news. But what choice do we have? “Tristan has to die tonight.”

CHAPTER35

YOU'RE A LIAR...AND A KILLER

Paloma

The ground bounces several feet from my face. For a split second, I can’t remember where I am or why I’m hanging over someone’s shoulder. But then, it all comes rushing back. Archer is hurt. He needs me.

“Let me go.” I struggle against the hold Hunter has on me.

With long strides, he crosses the foyer. When I lift my head, I catch a few guests looking my way. They don’t even flinch. Let alone try to help me. I’m still dressed as a sub. As far as they are concerned, Hunter is my Dom and has the right to do whatever he wants, including carrying me against my will.

Who the hell are these people? How did Dad come to know a hundred people who are into sex parties with subs dressed like the black swan. How could I have been so blind for so many years? Dad is not the man I thought he was. He’s not honorable, decent or loving. I think I made all that up in my head. I clung to his image of a loving father because I was too scared to see the truth. But now that he has shown his true colors, I can’t go back to pretending we’re a perfectly happy family.

Hunter cuts through the dining room and heads straight to the kitchen. Somehow when he starts down the stairs that lead to the cellar, I manage to elbow him in the head. He lets go of me, and I drop the rest of the way, landing on my knees.

Pain shoots up my leg, and with it, a bunch of images flicker in my mind. A dark alley, a dirty dumpster, and the man with the angry face. It’s like my nightmares are taking over my mind. I know the dream well. It’s the same one I’ve had since I was little. I don’t remember a time when those night terrors didn’t wake me up in the middle of the night.

Over the years, Sole taught me how to put those images out of my mind. I do that now, picturing myself peeling every dark thought off a smooth surface then throwing them in an imaginary trash can. Once I finish the mental exercise, I can see clearly around me. I’m at the bottom of the stairs, right outside the cellar room. My knee throbs, but a quick body scan tells me I don’t have any broken bones or serious cuts.

When I look up, Hunter towers over me. Like the man with the angry face from my nightmares, he yanks me up and pulls me toward him. In the dim light, I can’t see his features, but I can feel his hot breath on me. I can’t believe I ever thought I had feelings for someone like him. How was he able to manipulate me so easily? Was my brother right in saying that I only fell for Hunter because Dad ordered me to?

Now I know I never felt anything for him. I craved his affection back then because I was lonely, because I needed someone in my life. But true love isn’t something that can be forced. Even after all those years I spent with him, I never truly loved him. Not the way I love Archer. What I feel for him transcends all logic. I love Archer with my whole being, beyond measure or reason. Archer is everything at once—love and hate, pain and pleasure, chaos and calm. He’s like a vast ocean with deep, profound waters that call to me.