Page 77 of Chained

"He's being modest." Vincent's smile doesn't move. "Jarrod could find anyone, anywhere. Isn't that right? Found Amora's little friend's family within a day. Impressive work."

Jarrod's fork stops halfway to his mouth. And my heart stops with it. Clearly, this was how he found me, how he'd spent six months tracking me before. Maybe if I could get close to Jarrod, he'd find Rosa. I take a mental note, adding it to the long list of ways to survive this place.

"Why don't you tell us a little about your family, Amora?" Melina finally speaks, and it's like someone has punched me in the chest.

"I don't…" I can't find the words. She watches, her eyes burning into me with a smile I'd love to wipe from her face. "I have a sister. Her name is Rosa."

"What a beautiful name." She almost laughs, and Vincent's hand grips against my knee. A warning, maybe? "Tell me more."

"She was taken, too." I don't let her see how much it hurts or hear the pain in my voice. She is goading me, I know that much but I let her.

"How tragic. Maybe little brother could use his magic to find her for you. Bring her here, I'm sure we could pull up another chair for one of Vincent's favourite toys."

"I mean—I could—" Jarrod begins to stutter the words, but Vincent cuts him off.

"Why don't you all just shut the fuck up and talk about something else. If I wanted her fucking found, I'd have asked for it." The softness is long gone from his voice, his grip harder on my knee. My hand falls to his as I gently nudge him, but he doesn't take it as me asking him to stop. Instead, his fingers lace in mine. I stare down, eyes wide.

"Sorry—Vincent." Jarrod places his fork down on the table while Melina huffs and drains her drink. I spot one of his guards walking towards the table, the silence between us all heavy. The guard stops just before, waiting for acknowledgment from Vincent who sighs, rolling his eyes and waving a hand.

"Speak, for fuck's sake. What do you want?"

"Sir, a private word."

"I said fucking speak."

"Chief Rowland called, a missing person's report has been made for John Farrel. He's requested a meeting."

John. A missing person's report. Oh, his poor wife. Everything aches inside me. My eyes sting, but a flutter of hope sits in my chest. Maybe the police will come and they'll find us all. Maybe with John's death, we'll be freed. I expect a blow up, maybe a hint of fear from Vincent, but he lets out an unbothered laugh, and somehow that scares me more.

"Tell him I'll be at The Secret Garden tonight. To meet me there."

"Got it, boss."

His hand stays on my thigh, our fingers no longer interlaced. My eyes flicker to Melina's who's got hers placed over his free hand. His fingers begin climbing along my skin, stopping briefly at my entrance. She doesn't move hers, though; her fingers gently caress his hands, her eyes fixed on Vincent.

His voice drags me from the moment, forcing me to forget the way his fingers felt like tiny spiders on my skin or the way his sister stares at him in a way a sister shouldn't.

"Oh and as for John's wife," he turns, a smug smile on his face, "send Adrian."

I sit for a second. I ran. I know I ran. I can't let him kill someone else for a mistake I made. The guard nods, turning his back as he moves to walk away.

"Wait—" I call out. Everything inside me is screaming to shut up, to stop talking, but I don't listen. "Vincent, please. She lost her husband, and she didn't deserve to. It was my fault, it was all my fault…" I let the words tumble, not thinking twice of the trouble I'm causing myself. Not letting the fear of what he'll do sink in.

"Little dove." Melina's voice snaps, cutting me off before I can say anything more. "She's exhausted, Vincent. She should be taken back to her room."

He tilts his head, studying my face as he rubs his fingers against his stubble. "No, go on." He urges me to continue.

"Vincent, can't you see? She's delirious. She needs to sleep it off." Melina stands from her chair. "I'll take her⁠—"

"Sit the fuck down, Lina," he snaps, but he doesn't take his eyes from me. She stares into my gaze and I see it—fear. He leans into me, and I hold my breath.

"Tell me, my love. What happened in that cell?" His hands stroke against the skin of my arm, his fingers gentle. "Did he touch you…" He moves down to my thighs. I try to push him off, my face burning as his siblings watch, but he doesn't care. He moves under my dress and I clamp my eyes shut. "Did he try and take what was mine?"

It takes all my strength to answer, my throat dry.

"No."

His hands move fast, pulling away as they ball into fists. He places them on the table and snatches his glass with trembling hands.