Chapter 10

Enzo rarely hangs out at the crew complex. But unfortunately, tonight, he's here. And that makes this entire place suck more.

A few days ago, I was eating chicken Alfredo, feeling semi-normal here. Tonight, I'm back to feeling like I'm in a prison. Simply because of his presence.

The door to his office is cracked just enough for me to be hidden from any cameras. I peek inside and see him seated at his desk as crew members gather around him for some sort of meeting. I shouldn't be eavesdropping. I know it's one of the dumbest things I could possibly do. But since being here, I've done nothing about why I came here in the first place. If I'm going down, I might as well go down swinging.

"Once we gain the rest of Beckett's clients, we'll no longer need him." Enzo's voice has a certain smugness as he speaks. "That dumb fucker really thinks our family gives a shit about his connections in the States? He's a plastic surgeon. He's nothing to us."

Shaking, I take my phone from my pocket before pulling up the camera. I lift it enough so that Enzo's face comes into view and hit the red icon on the screen. Maybe he's not going to say anything significant. But if he does, at least I'll have it on record.

"Very true, boss," Val, one of his minions, says, smirking. "How many new accounts do you think we will gain from Benson's practice alone?"

"Oh, hundreds, easily," Enzo coos. "But that'll quickly be thousands when people tell their rich junkie friends about the good shit we're providing. A high so intense that they'll never get enough." He gradually leans back, an evil grin spreading across his face as he rubs his hands together. "We're about to fuck a lot of people's lives up, fellas. But we're going to get richer doing it."

His father walks around the back of the desk, planting his hand on his son's shoulder proudly. "And this, my boy, is why you're in charge now," Marco boasts. "You haven't let him in on the Vittoria Island deal, have you?"

To that, Enzo looks actually offended, and I tell myself to remember that name to research as soon as possible.

Vittoria Island. Where the hell is that? It's just two very vague words, and yet, somehow, I know it's a place that isn't good. How could it be good when it has to do with this family?

"Fuck no. Do you take me for a stupid man?" Enzo snarls. "Beckett gets too excited. He has loose lips. And loose lips, well, they get you shot in the head."

"Yes," Marco says, agreeing. "Vittoria needs to stay under wraps. It's far too big for the wrong person to find out about."

"So, if you plan to cut ties with Beckett, what happens to the girl?" I hear Hudson say, though, from my angle, I can't see him.

All I know is, for a man who arranged for the chef to make me chicken Alfredo the other night, it's odd that … his tone sounds like he couldn't care less.

"Why, Hercules?" Enzo says inquisitively as he eyes him over. There's no questioning the shift in his tone. "Do you want my fiancée?"

"No," he answers coolly, like he couldn't give a shit about what happens to me. Why would he though? He's ruthless. Just like everyone else here. "I'm just curious what this means for me and my job."

Enzo continues to rock back and forth in his chair, keeping his fingers together before him, like he's concocting some evil plan. "When the girl is taken care of, you'll still have a job," he says casually. "Same with Rossi."

Taken care of. In other words … dead. After all, what else could he possibly mean by that?

"Perfect," he answers, clearly pleased with Enzo's answer. Only proving that he's no better than the rest of the men in that room.

All monsters can have nice moments—even Hudson Hercules.

I feel sick. The words , "When the girl is taken care of," replay over and over again in my mind.

He's going to kill me. The question is, when?

During my time here, I've played along. I've kept my head down and done what I had to just to stay alive. But I'll never get out of here in one piece if I stay. That's never been more glaringly clear than it is right now. I was never a long-term part of Enzo's plan. Neither was my uncle—and it actually makes me happy that they are planning to blindside him. After all, my own blood brought me here, giving me to the worst humans, and then left.

"I have shit to do, so that wraps this meeting up." He pushes himself to stand. "I've got a late-night meeting tonight at the new club. Rossi, Val, you'll come with me. Hercules and the rest of you, you'll stay back and keep an eye on the complex. After the window incident the other day, we need twenty-four/seven guards at both houses."

"Yes, sir," they all say in unison, and I hear the shuffling of bodies, making my heart lurch into my throat.

For fear of getting caught, I slowly push off the wall and quickly tiptoe down the hall and back into my room, making a mental note to look into this Vittoria Island place and what exactly it is. And where.

I hear footsteps, and moments later, a door closes. I hear a loud engine start before it takes off. Enzo is gone. And it's time for me to get the hell out of here.

I'm going to die anyway. I might as well run now. It's my only shot at freedom, even if it's a damn small shot.

Pulling my hair up, I tuck my phone into the pocket of my leggings. When I look in the mirror at myself, I see a sliver of the strong warrior that I've always carried myself as. But I stand a little taller, taking a deep breath and making a promise that I'm done letting myself and my brother down.

"I am coming home, Walker," I whisper before peering out my door and looking both ways. Seeing no one, I quickly duck out and tiptoe down the stairs.

I'm well aware of the cameras in this house. And the truth is, they're going to make it damn hard to get out of here without getting caught. But with each one I go by, I make sure to look like I'm just passing by, as if I were on my way to get a snack. But when I see the camera pointing at the door, I know I can't just walk by it. It's dark out. It would alert the dozens of guards with access to the footage. So, instead, I look around until I spot the closet, knowing damn well there must be a broom in there.

Quietly tugging the door open, I don't see a broom, but there's one of those Swiffer Duster things that have an incredibly long reach. Smiling to myself, I grab it and pull it until it opens all the way, stopping to make sure no footsteps are approaching.

Making sure I stay out of its view, I hold the duster up to the side of the camera. After a few seconds, I spot a small button on the side, and I move it around until, finally, the end of the duster hits it, and the red light dies out.

Putting the Swiffer back, I open the door, waiting for an alarm to sound. And when it doesn't, I make a run for it toward the driveway. The gate is high, but my brother and I always climbed fences as kids. This won't be any different.

My heart thumps so heavily that it actually hurts. My legs shake, but I continue pushing myself to run toward the edge of the woods until I reach the gate. I can do it.

I have to do it.

Running in the wooded area next to the driveway, I'm out of breath by the time I reach the entrance. I'm so close. But the question is, when I get out of here … how will I get back to the United States?

One thing at a time, Briar. First, get out of here before getting killed like all those poor girls on the crime shows you've watched. If I'm dead, it doesn't matter if I'm in Italy or the US, right?

I stand next to a tree, looking at the gate. I know there are cameras facing out at anyone coming, but I've never noticed any from this way. Maybe if I can climb over it and hug my body against the gate coming down, I won't get caught.

I mean, it's unlikely, but it's all I've got.

I'm just about to book it toward the gate when a huge arm wraps around my waist and a hand comes over my mouth. I flail around, kicking and screaming, though it comes out as a pathetic muffled sound over the huge hand cupped against my lips.

Facial hair tickles my ear, and that's when I hear his voice.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you're trying to get yourself killed." His gruff voice speaks slowly in my ear, and I hold my breath, paralyzed with fear.

Suddenly, I see a set of headlights speeding toward us, and Hudson quickly shoves me into the woods.

"Don't move unless you want to die. And don't you dare say a fucking word. Or I promise it'll be the last time those pretty, plump lips of yours ever talk."

Swallowing, I stay down and watch as he approaches the car. My heart pumps, and as much as I try to steady my breathing, I can't. What if this is it? What if I die?

"I got a notification there was a camera out at the front door, so I figured I'd scope out the perimeter," Hudson says, almost monotone. "You see anything?"

"No, man. I was doing the same thing." The voice is faintly familiar, but I'm not sure which guard it is. "Is the girl in the house?"

"Yeah. I checked on her before I came out here. Wanted to make sure she wasn't trying anything stupid," he grumbles, unimpressed. "She was in bed."

"Maybe the battery died. Sometimes, those cameras' batteries act up," he answers calmly. "Want me to help you do a sweep of the place?"

In the moonlight, I can see Hudson's profile as he gazes around before shrugging. "Nah. I'd say it was some fluke thing. Can you go see what the deal is with that camera? I'm just going to check the gate once more."

"You got it," the man answers before turning around and heading back toward the house.

Once he's gone, I stumble backward, deeper into the woods, but before I can turn around to begin running, he catches me. Again. This time, I bite his fingers when they land on my mouth.

"What the fuck?!" he roars. "Do you enjoy pissing me off, Dove?" he growls into my ear, clearly pissed off. "Because ninety percent of the time, that's what you do."

"Get off of me!" I say through gritted teeth before spinning around and shoving my hands into his chest.

"No chance," he says angrily, pushing my back against a tree and putting his hands on either side of my head. "Nowhere for you to go now, sweetheart."

"Well, if that's the case, then just get it over with, will you?" I say through gritted teeth, snarling at him. "Go on. Do it."

"Get what over with?" He eyes me over suspiciously, dipping his head closer.

"Killing me," I hiss, bobbing my head back and forth with attitude. "I heard you talking to Enzo, making sure your pathetic ass would still have a job once I was dead. I know you're all planning to kill me." I do something out of character, but I can't stop myself because the amount of rage inside my body is making me wild; I tilt my head forward and spit on his shoes before tipping my head up in defiance. "Go on and kill me. And then burn in hell, Hudson. That's where you belong."

He barks out an angry laugh, shaking his head. "Now, you're spitting on me? Christ, you really do have a death wish."

His head drops lower, his lips barely hovering over mine. I'm scared, and yet … my body is buzzing from his closeness. And the area between my legs tingles, even though I'm absolutely ashamed to admit it.

"Dove, I was already hell-bound long before you came into the picture," he murmurs. "Maybe I'll take you with me though."

"I wouldn't go anywhere with you," I snarl. "I'm a good person." I feel the veins swell in my neck with anger. "You, Hudson Hercules, are a monster ."

"Oh, yeah? That's what you think, huh? I'm a big bad monster?" One hand lifts, and he cups the side of my neck. "Maybe I am. But I don't think you're as good as you try to pretend you are."

"You know nothing," I growl. " Nothing ."

He strokes my cheek with a smirk on his lips. "I know your nipples are hard. Simply from my touch," he coos. "And I know that pussy is probably so fucking greedy for a cock to be shoved inside of it because your man is too busy fucking everyone else who isn't his fiancée."

The tingle between my thighs is now a full-blown ache, and I clench my legs together to dull the throbbing sensation that's making my brain go haywire.

"Shut up," I mutter. "None of that is true."

"That thin tank top doesn't lie, babe." He rolls his tongue over his bottom lip, nodding toward my chest. "And it's not fucking cold tonight either."

"Fuck. You." I glare at him, wanting to punch him in the face so badly, all while begging for him to touch me.

I make no freaking sense. What I'm feeling makes no. Fucking. Sense.

This man is making me crazy.

"I hate you," I say flatly, gritting my teeth. "I hate you. And I hate everyone else here. I can't wait to watch the day you all get taken down. Or even better, killed."

His hand slides back to my nape, and his lips crash against mine within seconds. Without permission, he lifts me up, pressing my back harder against the tree. My legs part around his body, but I don't allow myself to wrap them around his waist—even though that's exactly what they want to do.

Traitorous body.

His hand grips my nape harder, and his tongue slips inside my mouth, leaving me with a minty taste and needing more. But unexpectedly, he pulls back, his chest heaving up and down against mine as we both pant. And when I feel a huge, hard bulge swelling between us, pressing into my stomach, I swallow a moan before it has the chance to slip from my lips.

"Fuck," he snaps, quickly dropping me down and slapping his palm against the tree. "Fuck!"

As much as I hate it, my body instantly feels colder when he releases me. Tension I've felt for weeks is now validated. And now, he's being weird.

There are so many negative factors in whatever just happened between us—factors that are far too big to ignore, even though I wish I could do just that. He's a bodyguard for horrible, despicable human beings. Hell, I know he's even done some of Enzo's most recent dealings.

And then there's the worst of it all.

This man, the man who's responsible for this throbbing ache deep in my core, was fine when he was told I was going to be killed. There are so many red flags waving, all telling me to keep my legs crossed and my guard up and not let this handsome, delicious man anywhere near me.

But those flags are just for intelligent, guarded Briar to see.

Then, there's the other part of me—the side that … is lonely. The side that has no one here and craves human touch. The one that wants to tear my clothes from my body and beg him to take me right against this tree.

He looks away from me, dragging his hand down his face.

"What's the matter, Hercules?" I coo, tilting my head to the side. "Now that you've tried to fuck me, are you scared that Enzo will kill both of us now? Instead of just little ol' me?"

He's pissed. So pissed that I can feel the heat pouring from his body, even while he's standing half a foot away from me. He glares down at me again. Everything about his appearance is rough, beautiful perfection. And it really, really pisses me off.

He grips my chin, but not in the forceful way that Enzo always does. Though I can tell he's trying to be intimidating, it almost feels like he's holding back.

"Not at all, sweetheart." His lips part, and the moonlight hits his face, illuminating every angle. "Because if you run and tell him—if you tell anyone at all—I'll lie. I'll say you threw yourself at me."

When he brings his face closer to mine, I feel his minty breath against my skin, making me so badly want to lean up and brush my lips against his. Just to see what happens.

"Enzo already thinks you're thirsty for another man's touch. This will only put that final nail in your coffin." He presses his palm to my chest, right above my collarbone. "Or a bullet in your chest."

I rear my head back like a snake, ready to attack its prey. "If you're trying to scare me, it's not working. I've lived through hell already, and I'm not afraid of whatever you all have planned."

My words only seem to entertain him more. His eyes glimmer in the darkness with his evil smirk. "Perhaps you should be though. Perhaps you should be very, very afraid of a guy like me," he says lowly before grabbing my wrist and tugging me back toward the driveway. "Now, be a good little dove, will you? And keep your head down and keep that pretty mouth shut. Otherwise, I might have to shove something down your throat to quiet those lips."

The area between my thighs tingles, all while anger radiates across my chest, making my nostrils flare. And as he leads me closer to the house, my heart sinks.

He's everywhere, all the time, and it's painstakingly clear that if I'm going to get out of here … I need a new plan.

Knowing my lips were on Enzo Romano's fiancée's and that my cock was poking into her stomach helps to numb the guilt that's consuming my entire body for kissing Briar. But despite how much I wanted her, it wasn't her face etched inside my brain when I closed my eyes. And right away, I knew I had fucked up by kissing her. I had betrayed the one person I never wanted to.

I sneak Briar back into the house, knowing how much danger she'll be in if anyone else finds out that she tried to escape. The woman is nothing but trouble, but I can't deny that I admire her bravery and absolute fierceness. Even if that admiration makes me dislike her even more.

She wasn't scared of me. Fuck, I don't even think she was scared of getting caught. She risked it all just to get the fuck out of here, and for that … I'm even more fascinated, which is really, really maddening.

I walk behind her, ensuring she goes straight to her room like a good little girl. Through her leggings, I watch her perfect, plump ass cheeks sway, making me have to send a silent warning to my cock to stay down. I just got that fucker calmed down from kissing her against that tree.

Fucking A, the things I've pictured doing to this woman, knowing I never will. I feel like a worthless piece of shit for even having those thoughts in my delusional brain. But it was so obvious that she wanted me too. She was silently begging for more. Her nipples were unbelievably hard, poking out, begging for me to suck on them. And I know if I'd slipped my fingers into her waistband, my hand would have been soaked.

"I'll be sleeping out here," I warn when she gets to her room and pushes the door open. "So, I suggest you don't try anything stupid."

"Yes, sir ," she utters, snarling at me.

"I'd love to have you on your knees, calling me sir instead of your fiancé," I toss back, giving her a smirk even though I know I'm continuing to cross a line I shouldn't cross. "At least with a mouth full of my cock, you wouldn't be able to talk."

Her cheeks redden, and the smallest shiver runs through her body before she steps closer to the entrance. Just when I think she might say something back, she holds her middle finger up before closing the door in my face.

In all her time here, she's been obedient and quiet. She's always eager to do whatever the fuck Enzo demands her to do. But tonight, I saw a different side of her. And something tells me the side I'm seeing now is the real her.

The girl who played dumb when I caught her trying to sneak into Enzo's office and then pretended like she'd heard it was a library while batting her lashes at me—that girl is long gone. Left behind is this woman who seems to give zero fucks that I'm twice her size. She's mouthy and not afraid of anything.

And to be honest … I fucking love it.

And I hate that I do.