Page 56 of Upon Blooded Lips (Vengeance #1)

TESSA

Willowmen, Illinois

F ear is an emotion I’m intimately familiar with.

It spreads through you, an oily darkness that steals your breath, heightens your senses, and increases your heart rate.

Seeing my uncle again brings it all back—the rush of adrenaline, the cold slide of sweat down my back, the awareness of the monster under my bed.

I’m almost numb as I stand in shock, frozen in place, my mind stuttering like a broken record player. He says something I don’t catch, the heavy beating of my heart blocking out sound. I barely feel the ropes binding my hands or the gag forced into my mouth.

A hidden door slams open, breaking the spell. Eric’s terrorized face comes into view, the heartbreak in his eyes clear as day. David comes up behind him and knocks him to the ground. I scream against the gag, tears pouring down my cheeks, struggling against my binds.

I’m so stupid. So very fucking moronically stupid.

Why did I run? All I had to do was talk to Eric and let him explain. Instead, I allowed my old insecurities and Presley’s poison to rule me, something I’d promised myself I wouldn’t do again.

No matter what that kill order said, they wouldn’t do that to me. It doesn’t even make sense. Plus, the date on it was after they’d kidnapped me, and if I hadn’t been so caught up in my feelings, I would have realized that.

My uncle and the two men with him drag us outside and toss Eric into a van, ignoring my struggles and muffled screams. A needle plunges into my neck, and the last thing I think before succumbing to darkness is that The Duke would be so disappointed in me.

Salem Lakes, Wisconsin

Wednesday 2:40 p.m.

Icy water splashes over me, shocking me awake. I splutter and cough, spitting out water. My eyes flutter open, and self-recrimination washes over me when the memories come flooding back. Oh god. Eric.

Pull yourself together. We don’t have time for this. Focus.

She’s right. I can fall apart later if I need to.

Ignoring my uncle leering at me with an empty bucket in his hand, I take stock.

Besides a headache, nothing else hurts, and relief floods me.

At least he didn’t rape me while I was unconscious.

Thick manacles circle my wrists and ankles, chaining me to the cool metal wall.

I don’t bother testing them—I need to conserve my strength for whatever’s coming.

David wouldn’t have gone through all this trouble for nothing, and I need to prepare myself for whatever he’s got planned.

My gaze swings around the expansive circular room, noting the one door about thirty feet across from me, and the domed metal ceiling that must be at least a hundred feet high. Where the fuck am I, and what is this place?

“I know what you did,” David says. “Your mother told me everything.”

“Yeah? What did she have to say?”

He crosses his arms and glares at me. “That you were behind all the problems at RH Enterprises. That you were the reason Presley lost everything and ended up in that roach-infested psych hospital.” He steps forward and grabs my chin in a painful grip. “That you murdered my brother.”

I spit in his face, my mouth curling into a smile when it lands under his eye. “Prove it.” I tilt my head to the side. “But you can’t, can you? I guess it’s pretty hard to do anything when the FBI and Interpol are hunting you all over the world.”

David wipes his face on his sleeve and sneers at me.

“Just you wait, you little slut. You think you had it bad when you were a kid?” His laughter bounces off the walls.

“Poor Tessa. What happened to you? You were such a cute kid. So compliant. So… delicious. Mmm. I’ll never forget your sixth birthday.

Damn, that cherry was sweet.” He watches me, clearly expecting me to break down.

He doesn’t have that power anymore.

I grin and shake my head. “Just you wait, Uncle. Oh, the plans I have for you.”

David chuckles. “You may have gotten my brother and your mother, but you’ll never touch me.

” He leans forward to whisper in my ear.

“I know people. Dangerous people. People who take smart-mouthed little brats like you and sell you to men that’ll make what I did to you look like a game of Candy Land.

They’re on their way here now to inspect the merchandise, and the money I get from your sale will set me up nicely in Mexico. ”

I lock down the dread stirring inside me, refusing to show fear.

He feeds off it, craves it, and I won’t give it to him.

I already fucked up once today. Eric’s here somewhere—I saw them throw him in the van before they drugged me.

Unless they killed him and tossed him in a ditch while you were unconscious.

No. Fuck that. I would know if he was dead. I’d feel it.

David will not manipulate me again. The Duke taught me how to compartmentalize, how to lock it all down to stay alive, and that’s what I need to do.

I need to believe in the best possible outcome, not fall victim to catastrophic thinking.

They’ll come for me, even if it’s just to tan my ass for believing the kill order.

And I’ll have earned every fucking day I can’t sit down after it.

David searches my eyes, his lip curling in disgust when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for.

He whips my knife out of his pocket and snaps it open, trailing the cool metal along my neck.

“Maybe I’ll let the men I brought with me have a taste of you first, hmm?

Make you into my little whore one last time before Gianelli’s men come for you. ”

Mirror Girl tries to take over, but I shove her back down. I swear to you on our blood oath that he’ll be yours. But I need to stay in control right now. Let me do this. Let me face the man who tried to destroy us. She settles down, but I can sense her, coiled and ready to strike.

I lean into the knife, letting it nick my skin. A trickle of warmth slides down my neck as I keep my gaze locked on the man who tore apart my childhood and made it a living hell. “You’re going to burn, Uncle David. But before you do, I’m going to dance in your blood.”

The door flies open, and two men come inside, dragging a struggling Eric with them. My heart leaps in my chest when his furious gaze meets mine. When he spots the blood on my neck, that fury turns to unbridled rage, and he fights harder against the men.

“Eric.” His head pops up. I’m okay. Save your strength. I’m sorry. He gives me a terse nod and settles at my unspoken words.

The older of the two men shoves Eric against the wall across from me and forces him into matching manacles while the other stands guard beside him.

“We might have a problem,” the older one says to David. “Mark was killed by some fucker in a mask while retrieving Eric.”

David runs a hand through his hair. “Did you take care of him?”

“Yeah, he’s dead, but I don’t know if he brought any friends with him.” He turns to me, and a vicious smile forms on his lips. “Tessa Harrison. It’s been a long time.”

“Who the fuck are you?” I ask in a nonchalant tone. His face hardens, and he slaps me hard enough to send my head crashing against the wall. Eric rattles his chains with a roar, but I keep my eyes locked on the man. There’s something familiar about him, but I’m sure I’ve never met him before.

“I know you did something to my son. Where is he?”

Would rolling my eyes get me slapped again?

Probably.

“I kind of need to know who you are to answer that,” I reply.

“I’m Colton Washington. Ryder’s father. Now tell me where he is!”

I freeze, and this time, several tendrils of dread seep out of the box I had locked it in. “I haven’t seen Ryder since he disappeared when we were thirteen. Why would you think I had anything to do with it?”

Colton’s hands clench, like he’s aching to use his fists on me. “I know about the bullying and about how you tried to kill yourself. He disappeared after you returned from the hospital. What did you do to him?”

“He’s dead,” a deep voice says.

My head snaps up, and I suck in a breath at the masked man striding into the room covered in blood.

Stalker’s here. Wait, he killed Ryder? I roll back through the years, searching through my memories.

The daffodils appearing during important events or when things seemed at their bleakest, like little rays of sunlight when I needed them the most. The gentle hands that scooped me up and carried me out of the supply closet after my overdose.

The whispered, I’ve got you, little cherub while rushing me to the hospital.

Oh my god.

The guard standing beside Eric draws out his gun. “I killed you,” he growls.

Stalker shrugs. “Blood capsules and a bulletproof vest.” Before I can process it, the guard is motionless on the ground with a hole in his head, the gunshot ringing in my ears.

Colton’s face contorts into a mask of fury. “Where’s my son?” he roars.

“You should have been a better role model and father,” Stalker replies, sending goosebumps erupting over my skin.

I’d recognize his voice anywhere. After all, I’ve been listening to it for years.

“But I suppose you deserve closure. Your bully of a son is at the bottom of Lake Michigan. I warned him to stop his harassment, but he wouldn’t listen, so I had to put an end to it. ”

Colton lets out an anguished wail and strides toward Stalker, withdrawing his gun from its holster.

Stalker grabs him by the throat and lifts him into the air in a show of strength that has Colton dropping the gun and my uncle scrambling away, brandishing my knife in front of him.

A hysterical giggle escapes me. He looks like that video of a crab holding a knife.

The door slams open, and Nate and another man storm inside.

Time slows to a crawl, a lifetime disappearing within a single heartbeat.

Stalker spins toward the noise, Colton’s body swinging around like a marionette.

Nate raises his gun, and Stalker raises his in return. Gunshots ring out, deafening me.

“No!” I scream, yanking against the chains, desperate to get loose. The bullet slams into Nate’s chest, sending ice racing through my veins. He stumbles back, collapsing in the arms of the man behind him.

“Father Paul! Stop!”