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Chapter Thirty-Three

Sebastian

I just signed my own death warrant with a single sentence, and all I feel is relief. I’m sure the panic will come later, probably once the painkillers wear off, but looking at Ophelia’s wide-eyed, trusting face, none of that matters. She’s been a victim her whole life, and I’m not going to be the next in line to screw her over.

If she stays here as my pet, it’ll be because she wants to.

“And what happens to you?”

Christ, of course she asks that. Of course her first thought is what will happen to her kidnapper. She’s too smart and too good. I force a wistful smile. “Oh, not much. I have to deal with another year of celibacy, and then I get to try again. Another Ward. No one would hold a candle to you, of course, but I’d have to make do.”

I hate that I’m so stiff and everything hurts. I should have waited a couple of days before I did this. Waited until I could look her in the eye properly and give this conversation the solemnity it needs. But I’ve never been able to keep my thoughts in my head, so why would I start now? It’s only my life on the line. Nothing important.

I grip her hand tighter. It’s all I can do. She whispers, “Why are you telling me this?”

The million-dollar question. I pause before answering, trying to order my messy thoughts. The weight of the day returns full force, smothering tiredness creeping over my limbs. “Because your brother and your dad have fucked you over enough. I don’t want to be the third man to ruin your life.”

I wrap my hand around her wrist and squeeze, trapping her arm to the bed. “I want you. But only if you want to be my good little pet. I think you do, deep down. But it’s your choice. I’m not supposed to tell you, though. It’s a secret. Don’t tell anyone what I said. Even the girls.”

The unbearable heaviness presses down, a lead weight, and my eyelids close.

***

Healing is a glacial thing. With all the bright minds in the Brotherhood, it seems like we could speed things up, but no such luck. Every movement involves pain, sweat, and more curse words than I thought I had in my vocabulary, but the worst part is the thinking.

Half a day into it, and I’m ready to launch myself out of the window. A whole day, and I’m clinically insane. I don’t know if I’ll ever see out of my left eye again. It probably won’t matter anyway.

Sometime the next day, Kendrick visits, chews at me long enough to make me wish Harrison had sliced my ears off instead, then leaves. The unflappable man is well and truly flapped.

Even Jacob and Gabriel are subdued when they visit. Happy to see me alive but clearly dealing with some sort of aftermath. They know something I don’t. It seeps out of their pores until I want to tie them down and torture it out of them. As if I’d get a single finger on Jacob before he broke my neck. It might still be preferable, though, to this waiting.

I caused all this. I should be taking the full brunt of it, but no. I have to recover before they hit me up with whatever the bad news is.

Ophelia doesn’t bring up the ceremony again, and I don’t dare ask what she’s thinking. It’s obvious. Isn’t it? She won’t give up her chance at freedom. No one would.

So, yeah. I make it three days past the stupidest day of my life before I finally snap. Pretty good, really. Longer than I would have thought. Pain meds helped. It’s just the guys; the girls have gone to lunch, and I can walk now, so I fetch us all a beer. I choose my words carefully and say, “Less than a week to the ceremony. Going well, I think.”

I haven’t told them what I blurted out to Ophelia. They’d tell her that if she messes up, I’m dead, and she’d go through with it because she’s too goddamn nice not to. I know she would, and even though I really, really don’t want to get my head chopped off, I can’t live with more guilt, either. I’ve done enough damage already.

They exchange another of the loaded glances I’ve seen far too much of recently, and I slam my beer down on the table. “What the fuck is it?”

Jacob doesn’t flinch, but Gabriel’s guilty glance at him confirms my suspicions. “Out with it. I’m not stupid. ”

Jacob sighs. “Kendrick has an update. He’s coming later to fill you in.”

“Wonderful. You might as well talk to me now, though, so I’m prepared.”

Jacob runs a finger over his temple as though battling a headache. I’m not surprised. Quinn is great, but living with her would give me a permanent migraine.

“It’s bad, mate. You know Alfred White?” Jacob pauses, then shakes his head at my blank look. “I’ll show you his picture later. Look, there’s no good way to say this. The Calders killed his brother.”

Even though I’d braced for the words, they still cut me as deep as Harrison’s knife. I set my beer down, and it rattles on the table until I let go. “What?”

“He was in hospital, and they made it look like an accident, but Randall Calder claimed responsibility the next day. And there’s more.”

More? Worse than someone’s blood on my hands? I press my hand to my face and flinch at the sudden burst of pain.

“Randall blames you for Harrison’s death. He’s given Kendrick an ultimatum. Your head on his doorstep by tomorrow night, or he keeps killing Brotherhood family members. One a day until you’re dead.”

Too soon. Blood rushes through my veins, turning my skin itchy and hot. I want to rip the bandage off my eye and throw it away, just to be free of the constant scratchy pressure. Fuck. All the terror I’ve kept at bay surges up.

“Will he move the ceremony forward?” Is that my voice? How does it sound so steady? It should be quavering like an old man’s. I close my eye, and Jacob presses the cold beer into my hand .

“Have a drink, mate. It’s okay. He won’t if you ask him not to.”

And every day between tomorrow and the ceremony, someone will die. More Brothers will lose people. Gabriel’s mom could be a target. Jacob’s sister. There’s a good chance Randall knows who my closest friends are, and he’d be spiteful enough to hurt me through them.

I take a long drink of my beer. A few extra days don’t make any difference. I’m not going to convince Ophelia a life of servitude is her heart’s deepest desire in that time. Tomorrow, the next day, or right fucking now, I’m a dead man. No one else needs to die for my fuckup. I can do this.

“No. Tell Kendrick I’m good. We’ll do the ceremony tomorrow.”

Both the guys start to talk at once, but I hold up my hand. “If it were you, what would you do?”

The heavy silence is an answer in itself. I turn to Jacob. “Does Kendrick have a plan if she goes through with the ceremony?”

A savage grin splits Jacob’s face, revealing the predator that hides under his affable demeanor. “Oh yes. All-out assault. It’s going to be fucking beautiful.”

A man can dream.

An hour later, the girls return with Ophelia, still laughing. She’s so relaxed. All the time I spent watching her, and I never once saw her look so happy. I put it down to her being a bitch, but I was wrong. She just didn’t have much to be happy about. I smile as she catches my eye. “What’s so funny?”

Quinn answers before Ophelia can, complete with actions. “Oh my God. Some guy—don’t know who he was—brought his cat to the refectory. His fucking CAT. It was on a leash, but it kept yowling and jumping about. Then his hand slipped, and it escaped, and… ”

She and the girls dissolve into another fit of laughter. Jacob rolls his eyes. “Guess you had to be there, love. Come on, we’ve got to go.”

Quinn’s hands land on her hips. A bad sign. “Why? Ophelia’s working at the med center soon. We were going to hang out here until—”

“Not happening. And don’t argue, or there’ll be trouble.”

Eve and Quinn both look between Ophelia and me, worried, then Eve smiles. “No problem. We’ll catch up tomorrow.”

With a little more muttering from Quinn, the group leaves. Ophelia gives me a shrewd look, eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”

I tap my knee. “Sit, pet.”

I don’t miss the little shudder that runs through her at my words. She’s starting to like being called that. If I’m not mistaken, she’s starting to like it a lot. If I want a miracle to happen, here’s how I bring it about.

She swallows, then walks over slowly and perches herself on my knee. The little outfits I allow her don’t seem to bother her anymore. I brought in a few pieces more to my taste—still tiny, but beautiful fabrics in shades that compliment her rather than make her look cheap. She’s not cheap. If she’s a pet, she’s a pedigree.

Today’s selection is technically lingerie, but who cares? It looks incredible. Shimmery blue fabric wraps her curves, stopping high on her thighs. I let her wear panties for her trip out with the girls. I’m generous like that.

I wrap my arm around her, pulling her close. She still smells of fruity shampoo, and I close my eyes, breathing it in. This might be my last day with her. My last day on the planet.

“What is it? Has something happened?” She sounds nervous now .

I trace my fingers over her hip. Christ, she feels good under the slippery fabric. “The ceremony is tomorrow. They’ve moved it forward.”

She flinches, eyes going wide. The expression gives me a tiny moment of hope. It’s not relief. Not excitement at the prospect of getting the hell away from me. If anything, she looks horrified, though she covers it almost immediately. “Oh.”

The silence stretches. I’d give everything I own for a peek inside that beautiful head. I can’t imagine her thoughts. I can’t imagine feeling anything but hatred for someone who treated me the way I did her. But unbelievably, she leans her head on my chest.

God, she’s perfect.

I reach behind me, ignore the warning shriek from my healing ribs, and pull out a box wrapped in blue tissue paper. She takes it with a questioning look. “What’s this?”

Why do people always ask that? “Open it and see.”

She does, giving me a suspicious glance when she uncovers the large velvet jewelry box embossed with Ophelia in curly gold script. It’s tacky, but in such an over-the-top way that it goes full circle and comes back into being stylish. I think so, anyway.

As she opens the box, I hold my breath. My last flimsy hope hangs from a thread, and her reaction to this could snap it for good. She draws in a sharp breath when she sees the custom-made piece.

The collar shimmers, the same blue as her hair and my eyes. It’s almost an inch wide but flexible, made from an experimental alloy that moves like fabric with the strength of steel. I half expect her to throw the box down, but she plucks the collar straight into her hand instead, twisting it between her fingers.

“How is it so light? And soft?” She holds it up, watching the sparkles .

“That’s a very dull explanation involving a lot of math. If you like, I’ll arrange a talk on the subject.”

A smile flickers over her lips. “I’ll take your word for it.”

I let her examine it at her own pace, waiting for the moment she finds the next surprise. She frowns as she runs a finger over the oval depression. “What’s this?”

“Oh, that just lets me change things depending on my mood. And on how you’re behaving, of course. I’ll make more as time goes on.” I open the hidden compartment in the bottom of the jewelry box and show her the engraved tags.

Good Girl

Sebastian’s Pet

Punish Me

Pretty Little Slut

She turns them over in her fingers, one by one. I take Sebastian’s Pet and touch it to the depression, where the tiny magnets lock it in place. “We’ll go with this one for now. Lift your hair for me.”

She hesitates, and I sigh. “I thought saving my life earned you the pretty collar, but if you love your training one so much, I’ll go and fetch it.”

“No!” It’s an instant response. What motivated it? The threat of the thick leather collar or not wanting to lose the pretty one? She gathers her hair up and lifts it, turning to allow me to fasten the collar. It shuts with a satisfying click.

I sigh as she lets her hair fall. It’s perfect. Everything about it is perfect, and it fucking kills me that she might only wear it for a day. I never want to see her without it.

The same thought must cross her mind, as she runs a finger over the smooth back of the collar. “How does it come off?”

I give her the smile I know sets her on edge. She pretends not to, but she likes a little danger. It must run in her blood. She’s a crime boss’s daughter, after all. “That’s the fun part. Without me, it doesn’t.”