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CHAPTER EIGHT

GIA

Finally, some time to myself.

Peace is nothing but a fleeting illusion. I know that. Every moment without Bianca on my hip as she fights the urge to sleep feels wrong, like something is about to shatter.

And the worst part?

No matter where I go in the big house, Royce is lurking behind every door, every corner, reminding me that we are far from safe. I close Bianca’s door, easing out of the room and into the hallway. After waiting a moment to make sure that she isn’t going to wake up and start crying again, I start to explore the parts of the house I haven’t seen.

As I walk downstairs and through the hallway on the other side of the kitchen, I open some of the heavy, black-painted doors, looking inside at the rooms. There’s a study decorated in deep blues and warm golds, cozy suede furniture spread throughout.

Shutting the door, I cross the hall, pushing open another door to see a room stacked with books, a stunning antique desk with ornate and hand-carved legs on it.

The entire room smells like a used bookstore, even with the fresh air filtering through the open window.

I move to the desk, looking at the book spread open in the middle. It’s some children’s book with gilded pages and several stories inside.

Why would he be reading something like this?

For the first time since I found out I was pregnant, I start to wonder if maybe Royce did think about having children one day.

Royce appears in the doorway, his gaze dragging up and down my body, making me feel like I’m pinned in place. His comments from the other night when he walked in on me are running through my head on repeat.

It would be lying to say that there wasn’t a small part of me that was thrilled when he walked in. If it had been any less embarrassing, I might have asked him to join me.

For a night. One single night.

I won’t make the same mistakes twice with him.

Not when I have Bianca to think about.

He’s dangerous and I would be stupid to think that I mean something to him—tattoo on his back or not. The way he keeps lurking around the house and watching me makes me think that he’s just looking for the right moment to get rid of me.

A lump builds in my throat. I don’t know if things are always going to be this tense between us, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they are.

It’s better this way. He can barely stand the sight of me, and I don’t know what to do if I have to keep dealing with him.

After another moment of looking at the book, I head upstairs to the last room in the hallway, and when I push open the door, I’m greeted with the sight of a wall of paned windows overlooking the forest outside.

Spread throughout the room are a couple different easels. Canvases stand in a rack to one side, and on the other side, there’s a long counter with a sink and more oil paint than I’ve ever seen before.

He did this for me?

There has to be more to it. He has to have a reason for doing this. Maybe he wants me to let down my guard so he can get closer to Bianca. He could be waiting for the right moment to kill me and take her. That would be easier to do if I was relaxed and working on paintings.

I don’t know if I can trust this or him.

But the paints are calling my name and my fingers are itching to pick up a brush and work on a new piece.

Just as I’m about to inspect the paint, gunshots ring out from downstairs.

My heart clenches in my chest as I tear out of the bedroom and into the nursery.

Royce is already in there, a gun in one hand and Bianca on his hip. His hand cups the back of her head, pressing her face close to him as she screams.

I lunge at him, not thinking about what I’m doing or the gun that swings my way as I try to rip her from his arms.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” He shakes me off him before handing me Bianca. “Get in the closet and don’t come out until I come to get you.”

“What’s going on?” I ask as I take her, heading for the closet door, feeling ridiculous for going after him. “Who the hell is in the house?”

“In!” he snaps, opening the door and giving my back a light nudge.

I do as he says, though an argument is on the tip of my tongue.

If it means keeping Bianca safe, though, I’ll do whatever he says.

“You’re going to need this. Anybody other than me comes through that door, you kill them.” He pulls another gun from a holster on his shin and hands it to me. “I’m serious. You kill them.”

“I’ll kill them.” I take the gun, glancing at the magazine. It’s fully loaded.

Royce shuts the door behind me as the sound of glass shattering echoes throughout the house.

“It’s going to be okay,” I say as I hold Bianca close.

Her little body shakes with sobs as she clutches the front of my shirt, but her tears slow.

Shouting booms through the house, but I can’t make out the words they’re saying. They’ve been muffled by the floor.

I rock back and forth, hating the fact that I’m holding on to my child and a gun at the same time. Though I knew it’d be unavoidable with the life I lead, I had hoped that she would be older. Able to run if something happened.

Not helpless and in my arms, relying on me to be able to do something for her.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

The words play like a chant in my head as I rock back and forth, trying to lull her back to sleep.

My pulse races, stomach tying itself into a tight knot. “We’re going to be okay soon. Royce is going to come back and he’s going to tell us that everything is taken care of.”

At least I hope he is.

I’m sure that he’ll take care of Bianca—he has the last few days whenever he’s noticed she needs something—but I don’t know what his loyalties to me are.

Likely none.

Another crack sounds and I jump, shuffling deeper into the closet until my back hits a laundry basket. Floorboards creak on the other side of the wall. It must border the stairs. I lean closer to the side, listening as the steps grow louder, heavy boots clunking against the floor. Bianca’s soft snores fill the closet thankfully. Right now, the worst thing for her to do would be to start screaming.

The footsteps get louder and somewhere else on the floor, doors are thrown open.

I take a deep breath before setting Bianca into the laundry basket. It’s close enough to the ground that if she decides to wake up and get out, she won’t hurt herself.

Once she’s nestled comfortably, I get on my stomach, looking beneath the crack in the door as light floods the room.

Dark boots walk across the light rug, heavy thuds following each step until they get closer to me. I hold my breath as the feet stop in front of the door.

It’s then that I notice the blood trickling down them and staining the carpet.

For what feels like an eternity, I don’t breathe. There’s no way that I can. Not when there’s someone standing right outside the door and Royce wasn’t wearing shoes when he left the room.

“Do you think they’re in here?” a voice asks, tone low as a second set of shoes enters the room.

“Not sure.” The man in front of the door shifts slightly. “Thought I heard something up here before Lynde came down.”

“Nothing in the closet?”

Fuck.

I can’t do anything. If they open the door, I’m going to be caught.

Although, if I rush out of here now, they might find me and not Bianca.

Shifting back on my heels, I reach for the doorknob, ready to turn it when a scream comes from downstairs.

The men run out of the room, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more relieved in my life. I set the gun on the ground and run my hands down my face, chest rising and falling rapidly.

I don’t move a muscle. Not when the men could come back at any moment. Bianca is still sleeping soundly in the basket, unbothered by the blanket in the bottom.

Shuffling to the side, I pull the blanket out of the basket, leaving her in the otherwise empty basket, and lining the outside of it with the thick and fluffy material.

Staying still feels impossible when all I want to do is get to my feet and kill whoever the hell it is that is a threat to my daughter.

But there’s a chance that they would kill me before I even got the gun up. Or they would hear me, yank open the door, and then kill us both.

All I can do right now is hope that Royce gets here as soon as possible.

Another shout comes from somewhere else in the house before it seems like an avalanche falls down the stairs. I still don’t know what is happening out there, but it feels like an eternity is stretching in front of us.

And I don’t know if Royce is coming.

Leaning over the side of the basket, I press a kiss to Bianca’s forehead. “Mama is going to be right back. I love you so much my little Bia bean.”

I stare at her for another few seconds in the dark, barely able to make out the expression on her little face.

With gun in hand, I get up as more gunshots sound downstairs. Shouting comes from what sounds like one of the men who was in the room. The tone of the voice is right—a little gravelly—but I still can’t hear what they’re saying to each other.

My hand shakes as I check the magazine one last time before easing open the door a crack. There’s nobody in the room, and as I step out, I can’t help but feel this is a horrible idea.

Royce told me to stay put and if he knew I was out, he would lose his mind.

I can’t just sit and do nothing while my daughter is in danger, though.

Each step I take feels like walking a mile. I make my way across the room, gun pointed at the ground, before peeking around the doorframe and into the hall.

Nobody is upstairs.

“I’ll fucking kill you where you stand if you think about going up those stairs,” Royce says, his voice strained but with a deadly note underneath.

I may not know who he’s talking to, but if I were them, I wouldn’t want to cross him.

His words are followed by a pained groan that has my chest clenching tight. If I was smarter, I might have thought about going out the window with Bianca and leaving Royce to deal with whatever the hell this is.

Nothing would’ve happened to us if he had never kidnapped us.

There’s a part of me that can’t leave Royce to deal with this alone, though.

He’s the father of my child, even if I wish he wasn’t.

I fight the urge to rush down to him, stepping back into the closet and easing the door shut. Bianca comes first.

But what if that means that I have to help Royce to help her?

I’m torn as I try to see her soft little smile through the darkness but can’t. The two halves of my heart at war with each other.

I take a deep breath, trying to shift in the closet, searching for more space that isn’t there. The walls feel like they’re closing in around us as I scoop Bianca up and hold her tight.

If someone comes through that door, I’m going to kill them.

I have to.

For Bianca, I will do anything.