Eight

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The dinner resumes without Diana's direction. We're able to eat and drink without being interrogated yet I still don't have much of an appetite. Between courses two and three, Von reaches down beside me. He wraps his hand around the leg of my chair and pulls me closer to him.

I don't question him since he has been seething since someone almost made contact with me 15 minutes ago. Hyun actually never left our table. L makes him feel comfortable, striking up a conversation, probably about me and how I made everything worse for them. I read "police" and "war" on the men's lips.

Diana doesn't wait for the fifth course before standing. All conversations cease as we prepare for her departure. Von looks up at her with a look I've never given my father.

He has so much hurt and anger in his heart that it will never be healed. He sits beside her confidently despite the constant betrayal. Knowing what I know now of my father's past and present, I don't know if I could do the same.

I lost years of my life to my father overcompensating for my safety. I will never get that time back. I watch Diana leave as she plots our next deadly mission, my time fleeting more and more. I was never safe.

"You were bred for it. Why would you even say some shit like that?" Von finally speaks up like that was all he could think about. "You want us to breed you?"

I'm grateful no one else at the table can hear Von's deep voice. Two seats away, Kimori continues mindlessly twirling his linguine. He seems to be having a great time surrounded by his former team. His silverware scrapes against porcelain as I focus my attention to the other members of the syndicate.

Hyun and L are still having their conversation and this time I'm observant enough to make out their distorted voices. I make out everyone's. Everyone in the room is talking about the same topic.

Some are angry we will have to train nonstop now in order to take on an entire police force. Others are blatantly blaming me for the inevitable, like what they were doing wasn't illegal in the first place. RICO and trafficking are theorized as the charges we'll most likely be hit with. I hear bullets guessing how they'll die and other voices guessing how I will. The voices overwhelm me and it's too late to tune them out.

"You can go now."

When I open my eyes, Von is level with me. One hand is at the back of my chair and the other lands firm yet gently on my knee. He smells like pine and Arabian oils.

"Let's go, baby," he says.

He's just looking out for me, finally. I stand despite feeling weak and allow myself to lean on Von. I feel like I'm being weighed down by something despite everything in me wanting to leave the room.

The stares don't stop but the voices do.

A few of the men at our table look up at me, concerned but not enough to question anything. They give me my space. Except for Von, Von leads me out with a hand on the back of my neck. He stakes his claim over me in front of all the gossip.

When the ballroom door closes behind us I want to break down. Instead, I stoop down to take off my heels. Von stands behind me unwavering as I fumble with the sparkly threads. I feel relief in being barefoot, leaving the shoes by the door only for him to pick them up behind me.

I'm exhausted after minimal physical activity. The war I'm fighting in my head takes up all of my energy. As I walk to my bedroom, I continue undressing. The diamonds at my neck are soon on the floor. I take off the heavy tennis bracelet not even caring when it hits the staircase. Next, another silver charm bracelet and Von picks it up from the floor wordlessly.

He tails behind me picking up every accessory in his large hands. He knows how much I ultimately value them. He bought them for me.

I keep two thin gold chains on to sleep in and begin undoing my dress.

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