30. Vogue

I sit still,watching until the last of the gunfire dies down, and the silence settles back over the area like a shroud. I don't expect any police to show up, we're too far off the beaten track.

I exhale slowly. Relief floods me when I think it's over, but it's quick to drain away when I think about that text from Aaron. No way in hell am I meeting him alone. But how the fuck do I tell the guys without them going ballistic? They'll insist on coming with me, and he said to come alone.

Part of me wonders what the hell the guys did to the professor and his cohorts, not to mention all the Vipers, but I can't see anyone at all when I look through the binoculars again.

A noise on the stairs makes my heart jolt, and I lower the binoculars, moving my hand around to the gun I shoved into the back of my jeans, under my top. Turning slowly, hoping it's the guys and not a Viper out to get me, I blink when I see a very suave man reach the top of the stairs, dressed in a black suit, ready to kill—literally, I'm sure. His face doesn't take me by surprise. It's like looking in a mirror.

"Aaron McGowan," I grit out, my hand going slack on the gun still shoved into the back of my pants.

"Vogue," he murmurs. "Fuck, you look like my mother. More so in person."

"Fuck off. You don't get to say shit like that to me."

He holds his hands up, his brown eyes shrewd as he takes a couple of steps closer. "You're right. I haven't earned that, yet."

"You never will." My bitterness is laid bare for him to see, hear, sense, and whatever else. He needs to know I hate him.

And I do hate him. Right now, seeing his face, his expensive suit and calm attitude, I hate him.

"You're coming with me," he states coolly.

"Not a chance."

In a few strides, he is close enough to reach out and grab my upper arm in a tight grip. "We're going to my office. We need to talk. Alone."

"No!" I yell loudly, which is either really dumb or really smart. I can't tell which right now. He reaches into my front jeans pocket to drag out the phone, obviously wedged in there, cutting off communication with the guys when he pockets it, then reaches around me to pull out the gun.

Fuck.

"Yes." His statement is cold now. He is done fucking about as he hauls me towards the stairs.

"The guys are coming back."

"Not yet, they aren't. Why do you think I took this opportunity? I knew you wouldn't meet me."

"Why did you send the text, then?" I ask, struggling to keep upright as he drags me down the steps. I can't struggle too much, or we're both going to go ass over tit, and that will get us nowhere, especially if I break my neck while doing so.

"Needed you to open it so I could grab your location."

"And you got here in two seconds flat?"

"Let's just say, I'm never far away."

"Fuck off!" ‘I screech at him again. "If you are never far away, you know how I've suffered."

He doesn't answer; he just hauls me along like a trailer. He is stronger, like, seriously strong. Planting my feet just makes him work harder, but it doesn't make him pause as he drags me outside and shoves me into the back of a black SUV with a really, really scaring-looking dude.

"Vogue, meet Adam. You two are going to get cosy for a while."

He slams the door shut, and I glare at Adam, who glares back with dead eyes. Aaron climbs into the passenger seat, and the driver, some guy in a beanie, shoots off like a bat out of hell.

I look over my shoulder as I'm abducted for a second time in less than two weeks, and this time by the man whose blood runs through my veins. Weirdly, I don't feel all that scared, but the guys are going to lose their shit. I mean, if my father wanted me dead, he would've killed me by now, and besides, why would he? I've done nothing to warrant it.

I don't think so anyway.

Don't presume to know him, Vogue. You know nothing about him.

This inner thought, said in my mother's voice, chills me.

I'm clutching the seat like some kind of lifeline as the SUV tears through the back streets, away from the guys. Adam's silent presence is a constant reminder that I'm not in control here. The anger is a bubbling cauldron inside me, ready to spill over. I'm no one's pushover, and Aaron's about to learn that the hard way.

"Where the fuck are you taking me?" I spit out, my voice sharp enough to cut. But all I get from Aaron is a nonchalant glance in the rearview mirror.

"To talk," he says, his tone so deceptively calm it makes my blood boil.

I don't trust him for shit. But as we pull up to a nondescript building with tinted windows and a steel door, my gut tells me this isn't just some candid father-daughter chat over coffee. This feels like stepping into the lion's den, and for all my bravado, I feel like a gladiator about to take to the arena to be eaten alive.

Aaron's voice breaks through the silence. "Get out."

No ‘please', no bullshit pretence of politeness. Just a command, expected to be obeyed. It makes my skin crawl, but I comply, stepping out into the cool air because what choice do I have? It's move under my own steam with my dignity or be carried in slung over Adam's shoulder, who, by the way, is a fucking giant when he steps out of the car behind me.

He would tower over the twins, and they are easily six-four a piece.

I lick up my lips as I gaze up at the titan, and he grins, but it's a cold, scary grin that makes me drop my gaze and move forward. I can play this the easy way or the hard way, and as much as my anger is telling me to give Aaron hell and fight, kick, scream, my brain has other ideas and wants to stay alive.

They escort me inside, Adam's hand gripped around my arm, his touch impersonal and firm, but not bruising as I expected.

Don't be fooled, Vogue. He will hurt you if ordered to.

The interior is sleek—marble floors, glass walls—all giving off a vibe of quiet power. Aaron leads us through halls lined with dark wood doors until we reach an office that screams ultimate power.

Once inside, he gestures toward a chair across from his desk. "Sit."

"Make me," I snap back, my mouth going against my brain's plan to make this easy on myself. Or as easy as I can.

The corner of his mouth twitches upwards. "So defiant. Family trait."

"You haven't seen anything yet." I cross my arms over my chest, standing my ground despite the danger. Aaron merely chuckles, closing the door behind Adam as he leaves us alone in the office.

"I'm not here to harm you, Vogue," Aaron begins, but I interrupt him.

"Cut the crap. You abandoned me and my mother, and you've just abducted me. You don't get to play concerned father. Not now, not ever."

He leans back against his desk, his gaze never leaving mine as he places my phone down on the polished dark wood. "This life we're born into—it's complicated. You've been thrown in deep without a lifeline. I'm here to offer you one."

"I don't need your fucking help," I snap. The irony isn't lost on me; moments ago, I thought about how I'd do anything to stay alive.

"You're right; you don't," he concedes with an incline of his head. "You managed just fine on your own, but there are bigger things at play here."

I scoff, unwilling to show any sign of weakness or curiosity. "Like what? More mafia bullshit? I've had enough of that already."

Aaron straightens and circles his desk slowly, methodically. "It's not just about local turf wars or family feuds anymore, Vogue. There's a power shift coming—a war that will change everything."

"And what does that have to do with me?" My voice is steady, but inside, I'm racing through scenarios, trying to figure out his angle.

"You're my daughter," he says simply. "Your existence alone makes you a piece in this game whether you like it or not. Word got out of the inner circle about who you are, and that is why we are here right now."

"The inner circle," I murmur. "I'm guessing that includes the guys?"

He nods briefly. "They are next gen, like you. I wanted to keep you out of this shit, just have them watch over you, but then it all went to crap." His tone is vicious, and I rear back, but something strikes me at that moment.

"If you have never been far away as you claim, you knew I was abducted by those Viper assholes."

"Actually, I didn't. It was an inside job, and that is why you are here right now. Can we focus, please?"

"Fuck you," I growl because it's all I've got.

"Sit," he growls back and this time, his eyes are cold, deadly and he's done appeasing me and my pissy mood.

So I do what I have to in order to get out of here alive.

I sit.