Page 104 of Bound By Threads
I pull away from him, crumpling to the floor, my heart racing as the memories overwhelm me. I’m right back at that night, and I hear a voice screaming.
I think it’s me.
“What the fuck did you do?” I hear a voice shout, but I don’t have the strength to see who it is.
I’m too far gone, spiraling into that place where I can’t escape.
Strong arms wrap around me, lifting me off the floor.
I don’t know who they belong to, but the scent of Oscar’s aftershave calms me slightly.
“Nothing… I just wanted answers, and then she… she told me…” Roman’s voice cracks, then it’s cut off.
“I told you what would happen if you messed with her again. You got your answers. Are you happy now?” the voice grits out, but I don’t dare open my eyes.
I don’t hear anything else as we move. Then I’m placed into the back of a truck, and he slides in next to me.
My eyes flutter open, greeted by Oscar’s sad smile.“We’re here. You’re safe.”He signs, then pulls me into his chest.
Archer climbs into the front seat, knuckles bloody. “We’ve got you, Lottie. Always.”
Chapter42
Roman
‘Meet you at the graveyard – Cleffy’
Istorm into the hotel room, the door slamming against the wall behind me with a crash that rattles the light fixtures.
The taste of copper still lingers in my mouth, a brutal reminder of the secrets that I just ripped from her. My jaw pulses with a sharp ache, and my cheekbone feels like it’s been shattered, but I don’t care about any of that. Only getting the truth from him that I can no longer ignore, because if what she says is true, then we ruined her in ways we’ll never fully understand.
I make a beeline for the room at the back—the so-called office, though it’s more like a throne room for a man who thinks he’s a god… untouchable.
The old bastard likes to pretend he runs an empire.
In truth, he runs a graveyard built with the bones of better people.
The door flings open so hard it nearly comes off its hinges, and there he is, sitting there without a care in the world.
Oblivious to the truths that have just torn my world apart.
Lorenzo Valen.
The man who raised me with an iron fist and hollow words. Who beat me when I made a mistake. He’s sitting at his desk, a glass of scotch in one hand like we’re at a goddamn family reunion.
There’s not a flicker of concern on his face. No hint of guilt.
He doesn’t even look up at first, just types one last word and closes his laptop with infuriating calm.
I want to rip that calm from his face.
“I’m going to kill you,” I say, my voice low and trembling with rage. “Slowly and painfully.”
He barely reacts, just flicks his hand at me as if I’m a fly buzzing too close to his glass. “I said the same thing to my father once,” he chuckles. “What is it? You want more power? Tired of playing small-time with the dealer and runners? I get it. It’s beneath a Valen, isn’t it?”
He leans back in his chair and smiles. Then he smirks—casual, knowing…cruel.
“I was the same at your age. Like father, like son, eh?”
