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Chapter Twenty-Eight

“T his way.”

Kenna held the coat close around her, ignoring all the aches and pains. Although she could disassociate by cataloguing each one, that would likely lead to her curled up on the floor and crying because it all actually hurt quite a lot.

She followed Senator Woodford down the wood-paneled hallway. “How many floors do you have?”

“You saw on the way in, didn’t you?”

Right. “What about below ground?”

Woodford chuckled but didn’t turn. He kept walking. All that arrogance in the line of his shoulders, keeping his spine straight with the confidence that the man behind her would take care of any problems Kenna caused—or was about to cause.

She focused on walking. On the pinching pain with each footstep. Much better than thinking about people she knew who had been left for dead, women who had been abducted, or what was going to happen next.

He’d dismissed her mother, who wandered out of the room with her head bowed. Kenna might not do exactly the same with an explosive around her neck, but whatever she did do would probably get her killed for her trouble.

She needed to play this right.

If they wanted her subdued, she would act the part. Was that what her mom was doing? She could see the merit of playing along so that they believed they’d won the battle over her spirit.

He stopped at a double door in the hallway, made with the same wood inlay as the walls. Ornate. Dark and imposing. Woodford grasped both handles and pushed them inward, revealing a bright room with a medical suite. An older man lay in the bed, hooked up to all kinds of machines, unconscious or in some kind of coma.

It reminded her of the first time she had met her grandfather on the island of Crete in Greece. As soon as she’d found him and discovered he was alive, she had gone with Jax to meet him. She’d received a novel her father had never published, printed and bound. The old man had died since then, as if perhaps he’d only been hanging on until she came. Until his task had ended and the novel had been passed on.

The truth had been told.

Kenna’s bare feet touched the cold white tile on the floor. It actually felt good on the warm cuts and scrapes. She didn’t think she was bleeding, but she definitely had some abrasions. “Who is he?”

“I suppose you could say he’s my uncle, after a fashion.” Woodford walked to the left side of the bed, scanning the readings on the monitors. “He seems to be doing well today.”

Kenna heard a shuffle, then saw a short, heavyset woman in a maid outfit scurry from a corner. The woman had to be in her sixties. “Yes, Mister Woodford. The doctor say he respond well to the treatment. His body isn’t rejecting the liver.”

“That’s good.” Woodford ran his fingers over the old man’s forehead, then down his cheek. “That’s very good.”

“Whose liver was it?” Kenna spoke before she could stop herself. She bit the inside of her lip.

“Your sister has proven very useful.”

“I am going to kill you,” Kenna said. “Just so you know.”

Woodford actually chuckled. He straightened from leaning over the bed. “You and I are going to form a different kind of bargain.”

“I’m not agreeing to anything.”

“I think, in time, you’ll come to see things from my point of view.”

Kenna said, “I highly doubt that.”

What she wasn’t so sure of was their ability to drug her, coerce her around to their thinking, or generally torture her until she broke and did whatever they wanted. But right here and right now, in control of her own mind, she knew what was true—and what she wanted.

Woodford looked from the man in the bed to her. “My uncle is a powerful man whose will holds much sway in our organization.”

“Not so much anymore, by the look of him.”

She heard a slight shuffle behind her. Woodford lifted his hand, and the movement stopped. The man behind her wanted to lash out because she’d spoken disparagingly about the old man in the bed.

Kenna asked, “So who is he? Apart from your uncle.”

“You might call him the Grand Master. Or so I’ve heard that’s how the resistance has taken to referring to him. He raised me.” Woodford glanced affectionately at the man in the hospital bed.

“Sorry for your loss.”

“He is far from dead, I assure you.”

“Because you’re kidnapping people, removing their organs, and putting them in him?” She lifted her chin in the direction of the bed, still holding the coat wrapped closely around her. “All in a futile attempt to prolong his life.”

“It’s far from futile.”

“Instead, you could just kill him and take his position.”

Woodford moved faster than she expected. His hand swung toward her, and his palm cracked across her already swollen cheek.

Kenna looked at the floor, her chin almost at her right shoulder. “Or not.” After a second, she straightened and looked at him. “So he lives. No matter the cost.”

“Cost is irrelevant. There is only our will and nothing else.”

She nodded as if that was fascinating, even though it seemed completely narcissistic in a weird, collective way. “And me? You’re gonna carve me up?”

“We die so that others may live,” Woodford said. “Isn’t that how it goes?”

“Sounds familiar. But I think it might be a military, wartime thing. Not you choosing who sacrifices a piece of themselves for your gain. The people you take from aren’t volunteers. They don’t choose to give their lives for you.”

“In the end, we all choose to give everything. As will you.”

She just stared at him.

“In your own way.”

“You can’t force me to do what you want and call it a choice.”

“You’ll make the right choice. In the end.”

“You can’t force me to carry a baby for you people.” She had to say it. He had to hear those words from her lips. “I’m not going to do that.”

“I believe, in fact, that I can force you.” Woodford stepped closer, and she thought she heard a grunt of humor behind her. Meanwhile, Woodford stared at her almost like he was entranced. “After all, you are one of us.”

Kenna gritted her teeth. “Just tell me what you want.”

“All in good time.” He seemed to snap out of whatever spell he’d been under and motioned her toward the hall. “Come with me. There is more for you to see, and I believe it will change your mind if you allow yourself to see things as they really are.”

Not likely, but moving was better than standing still. “If you want to try and change my mind, it would help if I had clean clothes, shoes, and some food. It’s been a long day.” And the more she was allowed privacy to change, or a minute to eat, the more time she had to figure out how to get her mom and Zeyla and get out of here.

She needed a phone line they wouldn’t be monitoring. Or a cell they couldn’t trace. A way to contact her friends—like via a computer. Something with a connection to the internet.

Leaving a note on a message board where Maizie would see it was far better than a text or call they could trace. The last thing she wanted was to endanger her friends.

Maybe that nurse/housekeeper lady would be amenable to helping her figure a way out of here. That meant finding a method for removing the explosive collar they’d put on Amara.

Odd that they hadn’t put one on her yet.

“All in due time.” Woodford glanced over his shoulder at her. “In fact, I have the perfect outfit for you to change into.”

Okay, gross. But she said nothing and continued to follow him. The guy behind her wasn’t going to be easy to take down, even if she could reach the weapon at her spine and surprise him with an attack.

She kept the coat closed around her but found the cross of her necklace and flicked off the switch. Maizie had plenty of time to find her here by now. However, if the house blocked all signals in and out, effectively cutting off the transmitter, then she wasn’t going to waste its short battery life by leaving it on when it meant nothing.

The first chance she got to go outside, she could turn it on.

He led her into a small study with a desk in the corner. She preferred her laptop on a picnic table, in the RV at the small dinette, or at some all-night breakfast restaurant with her friends. She would never have an office in her home. The idea of it repulsed her at this point after seeing so many men who thought their power came from subjugating others while sitting in their pretentious offices.

“Nice workspace.” She put as much disgust into her tone as she could. “All the better for ruling the world.”

“This is the Grand Master’s room. I’m only keeping things running.”

Seriously. “You’ve never thought of taking over? Not even once?”

“That is not how our world works. Self-promotion harms the whole. When one part seeks to function independently, the entire organization breaks down.”

“Go team?”

He ignored that comment and opened a laptop on the desk, rotating it so that she could see the screen.

Kenna took an involuntary step forward. “Adrielle and Laney.” They sat close together on a small couch, holding each other’s hands. “Where are they?”

“A very nice five-star hotel. Which they will not be leaving until I’m assured you intend to cooperate.”

“It’s gonna be a long nine months waiting for me to give birth.”

Woodford almost smiled. “Their safety isn’t so much an assurance of your cooperation as it is ensuring we won’t face others’ interference.”

“Others like who?” The guy wanted to talk all upper class, East Coast, snooty. She’d been raised by a rough man who worked rough cases and lived in a trailer.

“I’m sure you can figure that out. What I’m more concerned about is how much of a problem you intend to be.”

Oh, he didn’t want to know the answer to that. Just thinking about it made her smile.

“However, considering the parameters of your mother’s existence and your sister’s life expectancy, I’m sure you can be brought around to my way of thinking.”

Kenna walked to a chair and slumped into it, exhausted by the endless talking around things. Bruce did it. Now Woodford. “What do you want, Senator?”

“A wife.”

“I’m already engaged.” Something he no doubt already knew.

“Really? I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not marrying you.”

“Unless you want to witness the deaths of your mother, your sister, those two women in that hotel”—he pointed at the laptop screen—“and your friends at the campsite?—”

“You say that word like it’s dirty. Like campsites aren’t awesome .”

Woodford frowned a second, hesitating like she’d thrown him off.

“Awesome, like fast-food chicken restaurants and milkshakes at beachside diners. Those bags of popcorn you only get from gas stations on the highway between small towns. Meeting new people everywhere you go. Living a life that has nothing to do with social media and everything to do with face-to-face interactions with real people. Affecting their lives. Bringing justice. Finding people who’ve gone missing or been lost. Or abducted.”

“Are you done?”

“Oh, buddy. I’m just getting started.”

“Be that as it may. I’m sure you’ll endeavor to make my life interesting.”

“For as long as we both shall live?” She figured he understood the murderous look in her eye. “Sounds great.”

“You can be sure I’ll have certain…protections in place. If you’re thinking about ending my life. I’m only one small cog in the wheel of this machine. You won’t be marrying me so much as you’ll be marrying the entire Dominatus .”

That didn’t sound so good. “Who?” She stared at him, completely confused. “What did you say? Dominoes? Like the game?”

“ Dominatus. I suppose I can’t expect you to be versed in Latin.”

“Not unless you want to be exorcised. I can accommodate that.” She wasn’t going to back down. Married? As if. She was going to marry Jax and no one else. Ever. Thank you and goodnight. “What does it mean?”

“It is our organization. We are the power in the world. The ones in command.”

“Oh, like world domination.” She nodded. “Cool, cool. Good stuff. It’s good to have goals.”

Woodford sighed.

“What else?”

He stared at her for a moment, then went to perch on the edge of the desk. “We will be married in name only. You will bear the children of the Dominatus , and thankfully, I won’t have to spend much time in your presence.” A look of frustration, and maybe a little bit of disgust, crossed his face.

“You can’t please everyone, I guess.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll teach you how.” He reached over and closed the lid of the laptop. “And you’ll be well-versed in the consequences of disobeying me.” Woodford glanced at the guy who stood by the door, then picked up a pouch from the desk beside her.

Heavy hands landed on her shoulders.

She stiffened, but he held her fast and didn’t let her move. Woodford came over with a syringe in one hand. Kenna kicked at him. The man holding her didn’t let go. She gritted her teeth and shoved at them both. He held her down, and the senator stuck the needle in the side of her neck.

The spot burned hot enough that she gasped.

Woodford said, “Why waste any more time?”

Warmth washed over her. Kenna tried to fight it, but eventually, the sensation crested over her like a wave that sucked her under a king tide. Deep into the water where she floated for a while.

She came awake, at least in part.

Warm.

Floating.

A man stood over the bed, a woman on the other side. Kenna didn’t like hospitals—if that’s what this was. She couldn’t form the words to ask. Couldn’t do anything but lie there on the cusp of moving, or speaking, but unable to do either.

Before she was sucked under again.