Fighting With Light (The Coldwell Brothers #2)

52. Aelia

52

Aelia

There’s a bulletproof Range Rover in the garage. If I can get downstairs with Mom, we can get a car and drive.

I’ve packed a backpack with as much as I can with the iPad. I wish I could bring my beautiful clothes and shoes with me, but I can’t, plus I left my favorite pair of Louboutins with Liam. At least I’ll have those. I shoved all the diamond and gold jewelry I could into my backpack because it’s smart to have some insurance, and I may need it to pay for things to get to California because credit cards are traceable.

I dug through the two suitcases I brought home seeing if there was anything else I put in here that could help me, and found two things. One of Liam’s t-shirts and his bowie knife wrapped up in it. He must have slipped it in there when I wasn’t looking. I put his t-shirt on and stashed the knife in my bag. Maybe I can use it on the guard to get his gun.

I lift the collar of Liam’s shirt and take another deep inhale. It smells just like him, the ocean. My eyes well and I blink the tears away. Now is not the time for crying.

There’s a knock and I quickly close my closet door, blocking my packed bag from view. I find the same guard that has been standing outside my door. I’ve been using the guise of visiting my mother to evaluate each of them. He’s short enough that I think I could take him. I figured my best opportunity for a moment of surprise would be when I leave my mom’s room to go to mine.

“What?” I snap.

“Your father wants to see you immediately. ”

I look behind me, wishing I could find any other excuse, but I can’t. I’m almost ready to leave. Let’s hope Romeo did what he said he would and bought me more time. We will leave when the house is quiet, and I have an extra minute to get Mom down the stairs. It’s dark out now, but the house won’t settle until after eleven.

He reaches to grab my arm, and I growl, deftly avoiding his touch.

“Touch me again, and I will cut off your hand and shove it down your throat.”

He drops his hand and steps to the side, allowing me to pass and walk down the hall to my father’s office.

The door is open, so I don’t knock. He’s sitting there in another suit—this one charcoal and his shirt is light blue this time. He doesn’t look up right away, so I stand there and wait, staring at the place where I left Ben. It’s cleaned up like it never happened, yet it plays on repeat in my mind like a fever dream.

My father stands from his seat and walks around to the front of the desk, leaving a foot between us. I keep my chin up and meet his eyes.

“Have you decided to cooperate?” he asks.

“No.”

He sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, and I know he’s about to burst. “No, what, Aelia?”

“No, I will not marry Enzo Ballerini.”

His expression twists in anger, and a vein throbs in his forehead. He grabs my arm, yanking me forward, and I bite down on my tongue to keep from whimpering and draw blood. Swallowing the iron, I keep my eyes on him, refusing to cower.

“You have no idea what I’ve had to do to get the Ballerinis to agree to this marriage! You are ruining everything I have worked for! You are a selfish, thieving little bitch. You will marry him, or I’m selling you tonight!“ he yells.

“You would sell your own flesh and blood because I won’t do what you want me to? What happened to family loyalty ?” I ask him.

His hand squeezes my arm tighter and holds it at an angle until my arm is about to pop out of its socket. “Nothing happened to it. My daughter isn’t helping the family. So I’m forced to do something if she is no longer useful to me. For the sake of the family ,” he spits.

I rip my arm from his hold and take a step back.

“You are evil. You are a selfish, disgusting, philandering, sorry excuse for a man, you have no—”

The hit comes faster than I can block it. His large hand with rings on it hits the side of my face so hard my ears ring. I stumble back, pressing my hand to my face, and the tears involuntarily burst from my eyes and stream down my face.

Of all the things my father has done, he has never hit me. I’m too stunned to respond, and he waves his hand, dismissing me. The guard grabs me, and I yank away, wishing I had a knife so I could make good on my threat, but I don’t, and I’m too stunned to speak.

The guard closes my door, and I flip the lock, collapsing onto my bed and cry. I let myself cry for everything that has gone wrong for all the beautiful moments my father has taken from me and continues to steal. I’ll never have the mother I needed, or brothers that love me enough to defy their loyalty to him despite their natures to rebel. They love me, but they will choose the family, the Costa empire, over me every time. They have fought and bled for this, too. The irony is not lost on me.

I’ve been on my own for a long time now, but Liam changed all of that. The breeze from the window blows against my face, and I close my eyes, breathing in the fresh air. Then my eyes spring open, and I look at the window… that I didn’t open.

Out of the corner of my eye, the closet door opens. I mentally punch myself again because my only weapon is in that closet, and now I’m stuck. I could scream for help, but who’s to say my father didn’t send someone to finish the job because I didn’t cooperate with him?

I fist my hands to keep them from shaking and take a long deep breath, staying still so I don’t let whoever is in here know that I’m aware of them. I’ll grab the lamp a few inches from my hand as a weapon. Then I’ll scream. Hopefully, it will disorient them enough to give me time to get out. I will fight .

The silent footsteps get closer, and a knee presses down on the bed. I ready myself to use the back of my head to slam into his face, and then he groans softly, dropping all of his weight on top of me and sliding his hands over mine, resting on the bed as he inhales a deep breath. I know that groan, and I know those hands.

“You really shouldn’t have stayed still, princess. I could have been anyone. You were better off grabbing that lamp as a weapon,” Liam says.

I burst into tears and bury my face in the comforter, trying to keep my sobs silent.

“I missed you so much, baby. Don’t leave me again,” he whispers in my ear. Things dig into my back, and I wiggle around to face him. He’s on all fours, looking down at me.

He hisses in anger and stares at my face. I can feel it swelling up. It also burns, so one of my father’s rings probably cut me. He has a t-shirt and military vest on with his baseball hat backward, and black cargo pants.

I bite harder on my lip, trying to stay quiet, and he sighs, wiping my tears. “Baby, don’t cry, I’m here now.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, and lift my hand, not sure if what I’m seeing is real. Maybe I fell asleep after my father hit me. He watches me as I lift my hand to his cheek, pressing it to his scruff. He looks like he hasn’t slept a wink and his eyes are dark, and brown, and real .

A soft cry bubbles out of my lips and he turns his face, kissing the palm of my hand. “You came,” I rasp over my tight throat.

He presses his forehead against me, brushing his lips against mine. “I will always come for you, princess. I knew something was wrong,” he says, gently grasping my chin, turning my face back and forth, and frowning.

I nod my head in his hold and cry silent tears, wrapping myself around his body. He hugs me back and pulls me to sit up. Emerson is standing in the corner, looking like a bull about to charge.

Liam stands off the bed and grabs my chin again. “Who did this to you?” he growls.

I grab his hand, holding it in mine, and kiss his knuckles. “My father,” I whisper .

He grunts angrily and says, “We don’t have much time, baby, but what happened?”

I explain everything that happened in as abbreviated a version as I can. The look on his face that I was promised to another man, one I had never met, made it worse, but he stayed silent about it. I knew I should have told him, but how do you tell someone you love that your family wants you to marry another man? You don’t.

“We will talk about the whole arranged marriage thing later. But now, we need to get you out of here.”

“We have to bring Mom,” I whisper. Liam glances at Emerson and he shrugs.

“Alright, princess. We’ll bring her, too. But first, we need to get rid of the guard outside your door.”

I nod, and he pulls away. I hold fast. “Liam, I found it. It’s exactly what we needed.”

He grins wide, pulling me into his chest, and kisses me gently. I wince, ignoring the pain, just grateful that he’s here.

“I knew you could do it, baby,” he says.

“Let’s get going,” Emerson says quietly.

“I know what to do,” I tell them.

I gesture with my hands for them to stand behind the door, and they get into position. When they’re ready, I open the door, and the guard stands up straight. I don’t even know his name. “Hey, I need help to close my window.”

He frowns and looks down the hall.

“Come on, it will take you thirty seconds. My arm hurts too much,” I say, lifting my hand to my bicep. I hear Liam growl and ignore it.

He glances down the hall one more time and steps into my room to close the window.

I close the door, and Emerson comes up behind him, putting him in a sleeper hold. He struggles a little, then Liam comes around and zip-ties his legs and arms behind his back. The guard’s eyes roll into the back of his head and he goes limp. I grab a pair of socks from the drawer and toss them to Liam. He shoves them into the guard’s mouth and slaps some duct tape over it. They drag him into my closet and close the door.

“Your mom is right across the hall?” Liam confirms.

“Yeah.”

He grabs one of his handguns from his holster. Emerson is carrying a rifle with knives strapped to his thighs. “Okay, check the hall first, baby.”

I take a deep breath, opening the door like I always do. I stick my head out, and the hall is clear. I look over my shoulder and nod. We walk quickly across the hall into Mom’s room, and Emerson shuts the door behind him.

“Mama?” I call. She’s not in bed or in her chair, so she’s probably in the bathroom. I run into her closet off to the side and grab the bag I packed for her.

The bathroom door opens, and I stand there. “Stellina, what’s this?” she asks. I watch her look over my shoulder at the boys and she doesn’t seem the least bit bothered. She doesn’t know who they are.

“Mama, we’re leaving. I’m taking you far away from here. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Aelia, my sweet girl—”

“Mia!” my father roars, throwing the door open.

And all hell breaks loose.