Renata
I’ve been an unwitting victim most of my life. I’ve gone from my father’s control, to my brother’s control, to my husband’s control.
The time I’d spent as a biker’s wife had been brutal, so much so that I’ve blocked most of it out. My memories of that period are hazy, filled with burning debris that still singes my skin when I accidentally brush past it.
But even still, I hadn’t delivered myself from that hell. Drago was the one who’d removed me from it. I had no part in the escape. Perhaps that’s what made it so easy to fall back into the role of passive bystander to my dominating, power-hungry brother.
I was so broken back then that I’d even thanked him, if you can believe that. “Thank you for saving me,” I’d sobbed into his arms. I chose to ignore the part where he’d sold me to a monster in the first place.
As I look back, I feel a hapless sense of pity for the girl I used to be. Sometimes, I can’t even recognize myself in the memories.
But I have changed.
I am changing.
Because I refuse to be that girl anymore. The girl who’s passed from one man to the other, a pawn in their schemes, struggling to find my voice in the sea of testosterone that threatens to drown me.
My mood swings dangerously the longer I stew in the darkness. I move from melodrama to self-pity to determination in the span of an hour. But by the end of it, my resolve starts piecing itself together, building steam the more the seconds tick past.
I’m done living under the heel of men who think they can take what they want when they want to.
I’m done playing the victim.
Most of all, I’m done making excuses for my brother.
What I want from him now is the truth that he’s kept from me all these years. And I know him well enough to know that he’s not going to give me anything unless I give him something in return.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs has me snapping back to attention. Here we go. It’s time to take back the reins of my own life.
Kian steps into the chamber. He pauses in the doorway at first. A silhouette of a man, tall and broad. The only color is the brightness of his sapphire eyes catching the dim light.
Then he emerges from the shadows, walks over to me, and offers me the tall glass of water in his hand.
“I’m not thirsty,” I tell him. “But I do need to use the bathroom.”
He untethers me from the bondage chair without a word and leads me to a narrow door at the back of the room.
I walk inside and he shuts the door behind me. The room is so dark until I find a light switch on the wall and flick it on. It reveals a ventilation unit on the ceiling, but there’s no way out. I’d suspected as much, anyway, so it’s hard to be too disappointed.
I finish peeing and open the door again to find Kian leaning against the wall, waiting for me.
He snaps the cuffs on me instantly and pushes me back towards the bondage chair. I notice he’s watching me closer than usual. Probably trying to figure out why I’m not protesting like I normally do.
I need to play the part well. Kian is smart enough to smell a ruse a mile away.
But he’s also a man. And men can be astonishingly blind when their dicks are involved. That’s what I’m counting on, at least.
“Kian?”
His eyes bore into my face, trying to suss out what’s motivating my non-confrontational tone. “Yes?”
I let my eyes flicker to his for a second, and then I drop them self-consciously. “Nothing,” I say quickly. “Never mind.”
“If you were going to ask about your brother—”
“I wasn’t,” I say, cutting him off.
Kian frowns. I let my shoulders drop slightly. “Aisling was here earlier.”