8. Chapter 8

eight

Clara

I n the past few years, I’ve lost count of the number of times someone has tried to take a hit on me.

Car bombs, assassins jumping at me in restrooms, poisoned food—being a Caldwell means someone is always gunning for my life.

I’ve accepted it.

To ensure my safety, I always put measures in place. My bodyguards sweep every location.

But tonight is different.

The one time I let my guard down, let myself believe I could have one fucking night of fun, and here I am.

Drugged and trapped in a room with a psychopath.

“Fuck… you…” I slur, the words feeling thick and clumsy on my tongue. Whatever he drugged me with is hitting hard, making everything blur at the edges.

I try to get to my feet, knowing my survival depends on fighting the man in front of me despite how weak I feel.

Aston just laughs, the sound grating against my ears. “Such language! And here I thought you were a proper lady, Miss Caldwell.”

I try to lunge at him, but my body won’t cooperate. I stumble, nearly falling on my face, before catching myself on the edge of a plush velvet sofa.

Aston tsks, shaking his head. “Careful now, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself. At least, not before I’ve had my fun.”

Icy fear trickles down my spine at the implication, but I refuse to let it show. I won’t give this bastard the satisfaction.

“Who… sent you…” I manage to rasp out, stalling for time. If I can just keep him talking, maybe I can clear my head. Figure a way out of this.

“Now, now, a good hitman never reveals his employer. Surely you know that.” Aston smirks, confidence oozing from every pore. He thinks he’s already won.

Like hell.

I take a shaky step forward, then another. It’s like wading through quicksand, every movement a herculean effort. But I won’t go down easy. Not to this smug prick.

“You have… no idea… who you’re fucking with,” I hiss through gritted teeth.

Aston’s eyes narrow, his smile sharpening into something cruel. “Oh, I know exactly who I’m fucking with, princess. The precious baby sister of the Caldwell empire. Daddy’s little girl, all grown up and playing at being queen.”

He takes a step closer, crowding into my space. The cloying scent of his cologne makes my stomach turn. Or maybe that’s just the drugs.

“But here’s the thing, sweetheart. You’re not as untouchable as you think. And now that big brother Jake isn’t around to protect you anymore, well…”

White hot rage burns through the haze of fear and chemical dullness. How dare he? How fucking dare he say my brother’s name?

With a wordless snarl, I summon every ounce of strength I have left and throw myself at Aston, hands curled into claws. I’ll rip the bastard’s eyes out, tear his fucking throat open with my teeth if I have to.

But it’s like hitting a brick wall. He absorbs the impact easily, catching my wrists in an iron grip. I thrash against his hold, spitting curses, but it’s no use. I’m too weak, too disoriented.

Aston laughs, a cruel, mocking sound that makes me want to scream. “There she is. There’s that famous Caldwell fire. Too bad it’s not enough to save you.”

He leans in close, his breath hot against my ear. “Don’t worry, princess. I’ll make sure to send Daddy your regards… after I’m done with you.”

Bile rises in my throat. I know exactly what he means by “done.” And I refuse to let this vile man violate me, even if it kills me.

Summoning the last dregs of my strength, I lunge forward and sink my teeth into his ear. The coppery tang of blood floods my mouth as Aston howls in agony, jerking away. But I clamp down harder, worrying at the flesh like a rabid dog.

He rips himself free with a scream, clutching at the bloody ruin of his ear. Murder blazes in his eyes as he rounds on me.

“You fucking bitch!” He backhands me viciously, splitting my lip. “I’ll make you pay for that. I’ll—”

But before he can finish his threat, a wave of dizziness crashes over me. The drug, the adrenaline, the sheer terror of the moment—it’s all too much.

I sway on my feet, black spots dancing in my vision. Aston’s snarling face blurs and distorts, his words fading into a distant buzz.

I’m dimly aware of my knees giving out, my body crumpling.

Fuck.

The floor rushes up to meet me.

“Bug! Come out, Bug!”

Jake?

“Go away!” I hear my little self shout, curled up tight in the dark among the shoes and dresses.

I peek through the crack in the closet door, my heart pounding. There he is.

Oh, I miss you, Jake.

I can hardly believe it.

It’s like he’s really here.

“Come on, bug,” he says, gently pushing the door open. “Why are you hiding?”

I keep quiet.

Today’s my ninth birthday, nine years after Mom died because of me. Even the doctor had told her she was risking her life to give birth to me, but she chose to have me anyway.

Jake crouches down, peering at my tear-streaked face.

I sniffle. “Daddy yelled at me again. He hates me.”

He sighs, sitting down beside me in the cramped closet. “Aw, bug, Dad doesn’t hate you. He just… he has a hard time showing how much he cares sometimes.”

“Well, I hate him!” I rub my nose with the back of my hand. “I wish you were my only family.”

Jake pulls me into a hug, and I bury my face against his chest, breathing in his familiar, comforting scent.

“Hey, now, don’t say that. We’re all a family, even when it’s hard.”

I nod, but the tears keep coming. “Maybe Mommy should have let me die instead.”

Jake’s eyes widen with shock. He grasps my shoulders, looking right into my face. “No, bug, never say that!” He pulls me close again. “Mommy loved you too much.”

Lifting my face up and giving me a nose-to-nose rub until I can’t help but giggle a little. “Mommy was so brave, and she was just like you.”

“Really?” I snort, my nose running messily down my face.

“Here.” Jake pulls his shirt up, wiping my nose with it. “Blow.”

I let out a big snort right into the fabric, then peek up at him. He’s got that goofy grin on his face, the one that always makes me laugh.

“Hey, you, cheeky girl.” He tickles my sides until I’m squealing and squirming. “Better now?”

I nod, the tight feeling in my chest starting to ease. Jake always knows how to make me feel better.

He tugs me onto his lap, wrapping his arms snug around me. “How about a song?”

I lean my head on his shoulder as he starts to sing softly. “When you’re down and in trouble…”

I join in, my voice wobbly at first but growing stronger. We sing it through together, our special song.

As the last words fade away, Jake squeezes me tight. “Now, let’s go get you cleaned up and put on that pretty flower dress of yours.”

I tilt my head, confused. “Why?”

“Well, we’ve got a birthday party to go to!”

“Birthday party? Whose birthday party?”

Jake ruffles my hair, his eyes twinkling. “The birthday party of the most precious girl in my life, of course.”

I giggle, feeling the warmth of his love. But then, his face starts to blur, edges fading.

Panic grips me. “Jake? Jake, don’t go!”

I reach out, trying to hold on to him, but my hands pass through empty air. “Jake!” I scream.

Please, don’t leave me.

I struggle to open my eyes, my lids heavy as lead. The world swims into blurry focus. An unfamiliar face hovers over me, a man wearing a dark mask.

Fuck. Where am I? What’s happening?

I blink hard, trying to clear my vision. The stranger’s intense brown eyes bore into mine. A musky, unfamiliar scent fills my nostrils.

Hazy memories slowly surface—flashing lights, pulsing music, masked figures all around. The sex club. I’d come here tonight looking for… something. An escape. A thrill. But I got drugged. I can see the prick’s face.

Fuck.

Cold fear tracks through me as I notice my disheveled clothes, the ache in my muscles. I try to speak, to demand answers, but my tongue feels thick and clumsy. No words come out.

The man says something, but his voice sounds muffled. His gloved hand reaches out, brushing across my cheek. I flinch away from his touch, panic rising in my throat.

He frowns, then slides his arms beneath me, lifting me up effortlessly. My head lolls against his hard chest, the world fades to black, and I’m gone.