“Shut up,” Dante says, glaring at his younger brother. “Took you long enough to get over here. Hold a gun on Mateo’s whore so I can go help Rafe out.”
I shake my head as Alec approaches. He takes my arm to keep me boxed in over here by the wall, but his touch doesn’t hurt like Dante’s did. Despite the lack of aggression in his hold, he does reach into his navy blue suit jacket and draw out a gun. “Please don’t do this. Alec, please. I’m pregnant.”
“You’ll be all right,” he assures me. “We’re not going to kill you. Just settle down, it’ll all be over in a few minutes.”
His calm is more alarming than anything.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, desperate to understand.
At least now, regret flickers across Alec’s face. “It wasn’t my idea.”
“That doesn’t answer my question. Why would you go along with this?”
“Because I want to survive, Mia,” he answers, simply. “You’ve rendered Mateo ineffective. He doesn’t do what needs doing and Dante… well, luckily Dante noticed before any outside threats could. I like you, Mia, but not enough to let you bring down my whole family. It’s bad enough you’ve brought down Mateo.”
I sink back against the wall, horrified by his words. My chest fills up with anxiety, my mind swirling with emotions, all competing with one another to tear me apart. I shake my head in useless denial, but no measure of vehemence that he’s wrong clears the room of traitors and makes the man I love safe.
Alec’s hand falls and he takes a step away. Rafe approaches now to take his place and my heart doesn’t know what to feel. On one hand, Rafe has been my protector once before, the person who saved me.
Now he’s the opposite. Now he’s the harbinger of fears so dark, I didn’t even know I should be having them.
“You’re pale,” he states, as Alec walks around to the other side of the bed.
“Why?” I ask shakily, tears springing to my eyes. “Please. Please don’t do this. Please don’t let them do this. I’m begging you.”
Wrapping a strong arm around my shoulders, Rafe assures me, “You’ll have plenty of time to beg me from now on, little one. I’m afraid I can’t help you with this.”
I can barely walk, my legs are shaking so badly. I need Adrian. I need… the emergency phone.
I grasp my stomach, doubling over. Rafe’s hand immediately goes to my back, instinctively checking on me. “Are you okay?”
“Morning sickness,” I tell him, turning and running to the bathroom.
Once inside, I dart to the vanity, ripping open the bottom drawer and grabbing the phone Mateo keeps there for emergencies. It’s plugged into a charger, so I unhook it and slide my finger across the screen, shakily tapping the contacts icon.
An iron grip takes hold of my wrist, prying the phone from my fingers. “You know, if you’re going to cry morning sickness, you should at least feign some vomit noises,” Rafe states, dropping the phone in the sink and turning on the faucet. He cocks an eyebrow at me, unimpressed with my faking proficiency. Once the phone is good and ruined, he turns the faucet off and hauls me back to the bedroom.
Mateo is up off the floor now, but that’s almost worse. My heart hammers at the sight of my strong, clever husband restrained like this. His lip is split open, blood streaking his chin. There’s still fire in his brown eyes, but Dante has his arms locked behind his back and Alec is walking behind him with a gun pointed at his head.
Rafe pushes me on the bed.
I’m too busy watching them march Mateo across the room to remain upright, but I get to my knees on the bed. Before I can climb back off, Rafe pushes me over and climbs on top of me, sitting on my hips and effectively pinning me down.
“Get off me,” I cry, shoving at him.
“I won’t hurt you,” he states, his tone firm. “I’m not here to hurt you. Just stay put so we can get this done and keep you safe.”
“Yeah, this isn’t the only task on the to-do list tonight,” Dante states. “We’ve got to take care of your other husband, and I’m not much looking forward to that fight.”
“I’m still hoping we can just shoot him while he sleeps,” Alec puts in. “I know it’s three on one, but I’ve seen him win fights with worse odds.”
“Successful men don’t depend on luck,” Dante states, sounding vaguely agitated. “I’ll wake up his kid, take him along for incentive. Any fight he wants to put up is going to be tempered if I have my gun in his kid’s mouth.”
Westley. Adrian.
This cannot be happening.
I can’t breathe. My chest works as I try to draw air into my lungs, but I fail.