Keeley's POV
I nearly cried the moment I flopped onto my bed, Gus jumping up right after me and nuzzling into my side. It had been an unbelievably long twenty-four hours and the cushion and familiarity of my bed made me realize just how exhausted I actually was.
I maybe got three hours of sleep last night, or this morning I should say. Luca and I stayed up till the early morning with our friends, making sure to prolong our time together. I would never have imagined that, only some few-odd days ago, saying goodbye to Luca's friends would be so hard, but it was.
I already missed Ilaria and her spunky personality, and how she made my stomach cramp from laughing too hard. I missed shit-talking and fighting with Emile. I don't know who else is going to help me prank Luca or mess with him if it's not Fergus. And Diangelo talked with me in a way nobody had in quite some time.
I got along with Luca's friends better than I ever had with other people, well outside Brady of course.
But, alas, I did miss my house and playing fetch with Gus in the backyard. I also missed the darkness and comfort of my room and the quietness of the house. The reason I wasn't so happy to be home was simply Nick.
We hadn't talked since he called me a whore exactly one week ago. He didn't come to greet us when we all walked through the door, nor did he check in like the rest of my brothers had while I was away. Nick and I had been slowly working to build a relationship, and just like that, it was gone.
I groan as reluctantly stand up and begin unpacking my stuff. Ilaria was right, she did make sure that all my stuff had gotten on the plane. What surprised me though was that none of the things I had purchased except for one shirt had been damaged in the shoot-out. Ilaria's car, on the other hand, that's a different story.
By the time I'm finished unpacking and getting everything sorted, I'm starving. I haven't eaten much today, and the idea of food has my stomach growling. I change out of my stuffy clothes and into sweats and a tank top before leaving Gus to sleep and heading down to the kitchen.
I'm relieved to find the kitchen empty as I wander over and stare at the fridge. This only shows me that apparently nobody but me is capable of going grocery shopping as there's close to nothing in the fridge. I try the pantry and am relieved to find pancake mix. I know for a fact we have at least an egg in the fridge, so I guess this is my meal.
I just have the batter ready and am scrounging the kitchen for chocolate chips when a pair of voices travel into the room. Their conversation pauses as I go rigid and slowly turn around. Nick and Julia stand in the doorway, the former looking shell-shocked and the other fidgeting in anticipation of the awkward encounter that is bound to happen.
I clear my throat before finally spotting what I needed and grabbing them.
"Nick," I speak turning my attention to the pan on the stove. I don't talk to him again as I watch it heat up. I don't know why the hell it's taking so long.
"Keeley," he states matter of factly as he and Julia move further into the room. Julia moves to grab a couple of waters from the fridge as Nick shuffles in his spot across the island. I could feel his eyes boring into my back and glancing at the puffy cut along my cheek. Ilaria was right when she said it was some Frankenstein shit. It wasn't hurting too bad, but I knew it was going to join with the others in creating a mural of angry lines across my skin.
He spoke up again just as I began to ladle the batter into the pan.
"How are you feeling?" I could tell he was trying, trying to make amends, but I'll be damned if I let him in only to hurt me so badly again.
"Fine." I didn't speak anymore as I held my spatula and prayed that they would leave. The tension between us was louder than the sizzle on the stove.
"Did you get to see all the sights when you were down there?" Julia asks in an effort to create a conversation. I like Julia, she's nice and everything, but I'm not interested in talking with her when Nick is around. In fact, the only thing I'm interested in when Nick is around is getting away from him.
"Some. It was nice."
I flip my pancakes and keep my gaze focused on them. I have to hold back a groan when I hear Julia pull a stool out and sit down.
I hear her inhale like she was about to say something, but before she could, Luca's voice filled the room.
"Tesoro? Do you want to- oh." His voice changed as he rounded the corner and caught sight of Nick. Luca's posture immediately changed as his face went void and his feet carried him to me.
I could tell he was trying to think of something to say, but if anyone was almost as angry as I was with Nick, it was Luca. If it wasn't clear, it was made evident by the discoloration of my oldest brother's nose and jaw.
"Wanna pancake?" I mumble, my irritation increasing as Nicholas continues to stare and Julia tries to make things okay.
"Um-" he looks over at Nick again and I use that moment to take him in. He always travels in his dress clothes, but now he had changed into simple sweats and a hoodie. He hadn't had the chance to shave in a couple of days, and the rough stubble across his face, the protective gleam in his ocean eyes, and the tousled look of his ebony hair had my stomach doing funny things. It didn't help that his hand was resting dangerously low on the thin fabric covering my back.
His attention turns back to me as it seems he remembered what he came here for.
"Your father wants to see you in his office as soon as possible. I can finish up your pancakes if you want."
The sigh I'd been holding in makes its escape as the thought of having to talk to my dad makes an appearance. I just want to eat my fucking pancakes and lay the hell down. Is that so much to ask?
I nod my head reluctantly and hand him over the spatula, but before I could get away, he wraps an arm tightly around my waist and brings his lips to mine. I do my best to stay standing as he just lays one on me. I know it's to make Nick mad, but I almost forget about him as my head swims in the masculine smell of Luca's cologne, and my lips tingle from his bruising touch.
He ends the kiss abruptly and holds me to him as I try to stop my head from spinning. Sometimes I forget how possessive and caveman-like Luca can get when he's trying to stand his ground. I don't mind, fuck I really don't mind, but it never fails to catch me off guard.
He shoots me a wink as he releases me from his grip. I do my best to walk out of the kitchen without seeing anybody, but as I turn the corner, I can't help but glance back. Luca has got a stupid shit-eating grin on his face as he slides my pancake out of the pan and pours more batter into it. Julia's caught between utter shock and holy hell, and I can visibly see the veins popping out of Nick's neck.
Serves him right.
I head off in the other direction to my dad's office. I hadn't noticed it when I was in the kitchen, but the house sounded more alive as the varying tones of my brother's and the Moretti's voices filled the downstairs. I could hear Giovanni and Matteo actively voicing their opinions about some topic or another with Sam and Donnie, Finn and Stefano butting in every so often. No doubt Callan's in there with them.
Their conversation still doesn't fade as I knock on the hardwood door before opening it. My father glances up from whatever he was reading as I slip in and ease the door shut behind me.
"You wanted to talk to me about something?" I begin while moving to sit cross-legged in one of the leather chairs in front of his desk. The fireplace is running and some candle is lit causing the air to smell like fall. It's the first time I've ever been in here where it feels like it's actually a part of our home and not its own separate thing.
"Yeah," my father began as he let out a heavy breath and shifted in his seat. He looked tired and his dress shirt was already unbuttoned and wrinkled. Something was obviously bothering him.
"Yesterday marks twice in the past couple of weeks that you specifically have been targeted. I've been working tirelessly to try and figure things out for us, especially you."
"I know," I nod understandingly. "I know you're working hard and I really appreciate it."
And although it hurt me to see him relentlessly pursuing who hurt me, I can't even tell him that I know who is behind it. If he figures it out on his own, then so be it. But if I tell him... if I tell him, Adrik kills him. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.
"Keeley," he sighs. My father's eyes meet mine, and within them, I know he's about to say something I'm not going to like. "Since you've been home, a lot of serious issues have sprung up. People have you and Luca under watch because of how ruthless and talented you both are. They don't necessarily want to kill you, but someone else does. Everyone is keeping an eye out for you, and because of that, well- I've decided that it's time to pull you out of school."
I'm frozen in my seat as I sit there unmoving. It's like I'm hearing the words, but they aren't making any sense.
"But what about being a normal teenager? I thought I was supposed to get a chance at that?" I asked, not necessarily angry, but more at a crossroads than anything.
"Let's be honest, Keels, there's nothing normal about you. You've had enough credits to graduate since you got here, and every time you go to school, you put those around you in some sort of danger. I know you don't mean to, but as of right now, it's the truth. I'd rather have you training and refining your skills than be sitting in some classroom with a teacher telling you about something you undoubtedly already know.
"I know this is not an easy thing to accept, but I've been debating this ever since you and Aubrey were chased down. And with everything that has happened in the past couple of days, it has only solidified my decision. I don't expect you to like this, I don't blame you either, but I do ask that you respect my decision."
I couldn't do anything but sit there and listen. He wasn't wrong, not in a long shot. I did put people in danger every time I went to school. I had been targeted twice in the past weeks. I do need to work on my training. I just- it hurts that I won't ever get the chance to be a normal teen. I won't get a prom, I won't get a graduation, not by the sounds of it anyway, and I won't get any more free periods with Aubrey and the guys when I just got them back.
I won't argue with my father because I know he's right, I just didn't think that it would hurt so fucking much.
I swallowed and barely nodded my head before I spoke. "Okay."
He looked surprised at my compliance, but he didn't let it hold him up as he searched around his desk. He shuffled through what seemed like dozens of papers till he found a yellow legal pad and ripped off the top sheet.
"These are just some things I came up with that I thought you could do," he spoke while reaching out to hand me the paper. I looked down and began to read as he continued to explain. "I thought it would be beneficial for you to up your training hours and focus on more specialized skills. I know you're highly proficient in just about anything, but I thought some more refinement in weapons and strategy would help.
"I would also like you to help Callan some days when he accompanies Finn on jobs. It would show you the business side of what we do as well as give you some more field time. You'll have more time with Gus and with your brothers. I know that it may not be ideal, but it could still be fun."
It was all overwhelming, but unlike Nick, I appreciated my father's efforts in trying to communicate with me. He was ultimately making the decisions, but I was being included in the progress, something which I never thought would happen.
I was upset, though. If my relationship with Aubrey was rough before, it was only going to get worse. I never talked to the guys anymore unless it was at school. My half-finished ballet dancer painting was still in the art studio, and unless Sam or Donnie could get it for me, that's where it would stay. No more cafeteria lunches or sporting events, or classes with Aubrey snoozing as her face rested on the desk. That chapter of my life was closing, and no matter how short it was, it still hurt.
"I'm really sorry, Munch. I wish there was a different way," Dad tried to console me, but all I could do was nod. It wasn't a crying sort of sadness where tears brimmed my eyes and one more word would set them off, but more of a weight placed heavily on my chest. There had been so much changing lately, I was dreading more of it.
"I know, Dad," I told him with a sad smile as I stood up. I rounded his desk and kissed the top of his head, his surprise evident in the way his eyebrows raised and body stilled. "I know you're trying."
And I left.
I shut the door behind me and shoved the folded piece of paper into my pockets. I just wanted to lay down, my appetite long gone, but my feet had other ideas as they led me to the living room.
"Ah, there she is!" Sam shouted, successfully getting everyone's attention. I smiled at them and they resumed their chatter almost as quickly as it had ended. Luca was sitting on the couch, an empty plate in front of him. I rounded the sofa and looked down at him, the guilt heavy in his eyes.
"I swear I tried to stop them, but I was going to be ambushed if I didn't give them up." I shook my head and chuckled as I plopped down on the couch with him on one side and Callan on the other.
Luca was immediately pulled back into the conversation by his oldest brother, leaving just me and Callan as the quiet ones. I pulled my legs up and leaned into him, his arm already shifting to wrap around me and pull me closer.
Since I had been home, Callan and I's relationship had gotten stronger. I had never asked him why he stopped writing me, and he never brought it up. To be honest, at this point in my life, I was more focused on moving past it and not staying too long on unwanted memories.
Sometimes when Luca would work late or the two of us had free time, we would go for walks out in the back gardens or sit on the couch and watch some movie. I didn't really care what we did, all I knew was that I was getting my brother back. I enjoyed sitting with Callan, especially right now. I was tucked protectively into his side, his giant size radiating warmth and causing me to sink deeper into relaxation.
I felt him lean his body more towards me as he threw his feet up on the coffee table and crossed them. Cal's head leaned on mine, and I felt a heavy sigh leave his chest.
"I'm glad you're safe, Munch. I'd have to bring you back to life and kill you again if you forced me to have to go back to living alone with these nitwits."
I chuckled at his whisper and tiredly closed my eyes. With the exhaustion of the past days weighing heavily on my shoulders and the ache radiating throughout my body, I let myself fall vulnerable to my exhaustion as the voices of my family coaxed me to sleep.
***
I couldn't move, or maybe I just didn't want to, considering the state of misery my body was in. Everything was different, from the surface under me to the smell of the air. Gone was the bloodstained concrete, now replaced with something much softer. I couldn't smell the bile and blood that had been infiltrating my nose; instead, I was overwhelmed with the scent of jasmine and fresh linen.
I begrudgingly force myself to peel my eyes open and move my limbs. It took me longer than expected, but by the time I'm sitting upright, my eyes burn from the sunlight pouring in through the windows almost as much as my lungs do with every inhale of breath.
I'm in a bed: a plush, strikingly white, four-posted bed. The walls are coated in a creamy white, the floors contradicting them with their dark tones. A bookshelf, dresser, a love seat, and a small coffee table sit across the room from where I sit, with nothing on the walls but a mirror above the dresser. One door is to my left and the other is on the same wall as the bed, but other than that, the details of the room are made up of the five windows on the right wall.
I do my best, but to no avail, I'm not remembering much. I remember being stuck in that putrid cell with Adrik lashing out at me for hours at a time. I remember the pain, the aching, me wishing my life away. But other than that, things are still hazy.
I'm glancing around the room when I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror, and it's enough for everything in me to go still. With shaky feet, I manage to stand up, albeit a bit dizzy, and stumble to the mirror.
Tears immediately begin to flow freely out of my eyes as I see myself for the first time in God knows how long. My face was painted with small cuts and deep bruising along my lower jaw and eyes. The side of my neck showcased one particularly long cut that had been stitched up. My cries turned to sobs as I lifted my shirt and caught sight of my skin. What once was smooth and pale was now littered with fierce red and pink lines. Some of them were from the sharp weapons he had used, but I knew the darker ones were from lashings and would more than likely never appear normal again.
I slowly groaned in agony as I turned and looked at my back through the mirror, the sight bearing enough pain for me to have to release my shirt and grab the dresser for support. What wasn't cut was whipped, and what wasn't whipped was bruised. My legs faired better than the rest of my body, but varying stages of bruises covered the lengths of them.
Then, like a shot to the chest, it had all come back to me: the tub, the begging, the drowning. I had died.
I didn't register the door had been opened as heavy sobs escaped my chest in agony. Only when I heard it click, did I turn around.
Adrik stood just inside the door, his eyes holding less malice than the last time I had seen him. He looked hesitant, but it didn't stop him from walking toward me.
"Keeley-"
"What did you do to me?" I broke while doing my best to back away from him. My hair was a tangled mess as my tears stuck it to my dampened cheeks.
"I'm so sorry, Kitten. I never meant for this to happen, any of it," he tried to explain, but it was no use. I didn't recognize the person who stood in front of me anymore. The hands that reach out to comfort me are now stained with the memory of my death. The darkness in his eyes no longer reminds me of someone I had once found to be my safe haven, but rather they're the eyes of a crazed man and his unyielding cruelty.
"You didn't mean for this to happen?" I cried. "You mean to tell me that you didn't deliberately beat me for I don't even know how long, drown me after I begged you not to, and then put me in this room, wherever the hell this is? This wasn't on purpose? Tell me, Adrik, how could this possibly be an accident?"
"You don't understand," he pleaded while closing the distance between us. I tried to push him off, but it was not even worth it. I barely had the strength to stand much less hurt him. "I was just hurt, Keeley, and when you wouldn't tell me answers, I didn't know what else to do. You were never meant to get on the other side of me, my love. Never you."
I shook my head back and forth as the rest of me trembled. I was fucking terrified, and that's the only way explain I could explain it. Adrik scared me. Somebody who I once thought would never turn on me was capable of not only scarring my skin, but my mind as well.
"Where the fuck am I and how long have I been here?"
I stare at him, looking for whatever answers he has to give, but he has none. His eyes are downcast and his grip loosens on my biceps. His chestnut hair falls over his forehead shielding himself from me.
"Adrik," I urge him to respond. His eyes turn up to meet mine, a whirlpool of emotions within them.
"We're at my family's country estate. It's March seventeenth, and you've been unconscious for three days."
March seventeenth. It's fucking March seventeenth.
My legs give out from under me as more sobs pour from my lips. Adrik's arms catch me and haul me up into him, one arm around my back and the other under my legs. It's like I can't breathe as he lays me down on the bed, his arms not moving from their vice-like grip.
Aside from the week he had kept me out of the basement to nurse me back to somewhat health some time ago, I'd been locked in that damn cell for over three months. For three months I had been subjected to his unforgiving hands and sinister words. Three months of my life I'll never get back, and three months I will never recover from.
"Don't worry, Kitten. That's all over now. I'm going to take care of you. You won't ever have to go back to the basement again. Now, let's get you cleaned up and fed, okay?"
My sobs were no longer audible as it hurt my chest too much to produce any sort of noise. All I could do was shake and try to convince myself that I have to keep it together. Because there is no option for me other than getting out of here alive.
I have to get out.
***
I expect to see Adrik before me as my eyes shoot open and my lungs constrict. Yet all I see is darkness, slowly followed by Gus and the dim moonlight peeking in from the crack in my curtains. Someone must have carried me back to my room at some point.
It's like I can still feel his hands on me as I stumble my way out of my room and down the hallway until I reach the set of glass doors leading out onto the balcony. My hands struggle to undo the lock, but once they do, I'm pushing myself out and heaving in the air.
Fucking Adrik. Nothing had been happening for quite some time, and then it seems to all come crashing down.
I've tried from the moment I got out of that horrid place to forget about all of what he did to me. Foolish of me to try considering the skin I'm in, but I fight to every damn day. Adrik kept me in that cell for three months. And in that time, he had killed Alice and Lexi, their bodies placed in my cell on display. He had beat me, cut me, whip me. Adrik had completely changed how I viewed him.
But nothing compared to the next two months I was stuck in that bedroom. My torture had been mostly physical up until that point, but having to face Adrik every day, tending to me and caring for me, it fucked me up. I often caught myself questioning whether or not I had imagined the whole thing or not. Surely the dark-haired, dedicatedly attentive man in front of me couldn't be the one whose hand held the knives that cut and the whips that marred my skin. This couldn't be the person who had no remorse in their obscenely dark eyes as they held my head below water till life slipped from my body.
But then I would catch him glancing over my wounds, his hands delicately tracing over them as his face morphed into sorrow and regret. I would be reminded that he had no right to look at me like that, like he actually cared.
Every single day he would visit me, often for hours at a time. He would bring me my medication to help with the healing process. Adrik would join me with almost every meal I ate. He would force me to lay in his arms and depend on him for the only comfort I ever received. It was him who eventually brought me out of the room so I could walk and gain some strength back.
Every day I was forced to hear him talk to me and treat me as if nothing had ever changed. He went from downright sadistic back to the boy I had met on the boardwalk what seemed like a lifetime ago. And I think that that's what hurt me most.
Knowing that I had spent all that time loving someone who is undoubtedly sick and twisted, knowing that I never knew there was a switch to be flipped that would make him into my living nightmare. Everything I had known had been completely thrown out of the window. The only person who ever truly loved me at that point in my life was just as capable to hate me.
I swipe at my cheeks, brushing away the tears I hadn't realized had fallen. I heaved in heavy breaths as I close my eyes and will my heart to slow down.
"Keeley?"
Callan's gruff voice took me by surprise, causing me to jump and face him. His frame takes up almost the entirety of the doorframe and confusion is written across his face.
"What happened?" he asks while closing the door and moving to join me at the railing. I rub away at my chest to try and soothe myself, but it's not working too well.
"It was just a dream," I tell him, but I can't tell if it is him or myself I am trying to convince. He reaches out and pulls me into him. I wrap my own arms around his torso and hold on as tight as I possibly can. I don't cry any more than I already had, but I'm afraid I will the moment I let go of him.
"You're the strongest person I know, Munch, but that doesn't mean you have to take on the world alone. Not anymore, at least." He squeezes me tighter and kisses the top of my head before pulling away and looking down at me.
"How about some ice cream? I hid somewhere Sam couldn't even find it," he suggested and I let out a half-hearted laugh.
"Okay."
***
"I swear I'm going to be sick," I groan as I spoon another mouthful of my hot fudge sundae into my mouth.
"I think I'm right there with you," Cal replies. He's on his third abnormally large sundae, and even I'm impressed by the amount he has been able to consume. The five-pound bucket of ice cream Callan had somehow managed to hide was probably three pounds lighter than it was when we had started.
"You know what might help get this down easier?" I ask as I stand up and move to the fridge. "Whipped cream."
Callan mumbles his agreement with a mouthful of ice cream as I grab it out of the fridge and put a heaping tower of it in my bowl. I gesture to Callan, and he nods his head. But just when I'm about to top off his sundae, I get a better idea and don't even think twice.
I catch him by surprise as I adorn his head and face with the ice cream topping. He holds perfectly still until the can runs empty. When the sputtering of the can finally dies down, one of Callan's hands reaches up and wipes the whipped cream from his eyes. The moment his eyes land back on me, I run.
I hear him threaten me as I run out of the room and towards the living room, his long stride catching up with me quickly. I yelp as I leap over the couch and tumble to the ground. My body yells at me, but I stand up before I can think about it too much. And as soon as I turn, Callan comes to a stop on the other side of the sofa, the two of us caught in a standoff.
I try not to laugh, but it's not working all that well. Seeing an angry man of his stature covered in whipped cream is something I don't get to see every day.
"You think you're funny?" he asks with a smirk growing on his face causing a clump of the topping to fall from his beard and onto his shirt.
I choke on a laugh as I try to respond.
"Kind of."
"Um- did I walk in on something?"
I don't look, but I know it's Finn by the sound of his voice.
"It seems like our sister," Callan begins as he takes deliberately slow steps around the couch and towards me. In return, I take a few steps back. "It seems like she thinks she's funny and can play a joke on me without retribution."
"Is that so?" Finn responds. The mischief in his voice causes me to spare him a glance. He and Callan have some sort of silent conversation between them before Finn starts walking toward me as well.
"Hey now," I try to reason as I sense what is about to happen. I'm still backing up, but I know in a matter of seconds I'm about to be cornered. "I've taken on bigger men than the two of you combined."
Callan smiles as does Finn. "Then you shouldn't have a problem."
I yell out as they both come barreling at me. I almost manage to get away, but Finn's arm manages to shoot out and catch my wrist when freedom was only a step away. A laugh bubbles out as I'm dragged to the floor and whipped cream is smeared on my face.
The three of us continue to laugh and push at each other for some time, my nightmare becoming the last thing on my mind. The three of us eventually collapse into a fit of laughter, none of us having been successful at evading the whipped cream.
The laughter dissolves into a comfortable silence after a while as the three of us lay on the floor, me sandwiched in between the two of them.
"Dad's going to kill us once he sees all the whipped cream smeared into his favorite rug," Finn laughs and I would have to agree with him.
"We will just have to clean it up before-"
"What the fuck happened to you three?"
At the sound of our father's voice, the three of us shoot up into a sitting position with devious smiles spread across our faces. He stands in front of us, his eyes roaming about our faces and his favorite rug.
"I have no idea what you are talking about," Finn deadpans and I snort at his comment. I immediately slap a hand over my mouth as my father's eyes snap to mine, but the force of my hand was enough to splatter the whipped cream off my face and to the sides of me, landing on each of my brothers.
Callan can no longer hold in his laughter as his boisterous laugh fills the air around us. Finn and I follow his lead, and even though my father's face doesn't change, I can see the amusement in his eyes.
"Just- just clean it up," he sighs with a shake of his head. You can tell he wants to be mad, but when three of your kids are covered in whipped cream, one of them being quite literally a giant, I don't see how you could be. He walks out of the room, probably towards his office. When he's gone from sight, the three of us stand up and face each other, laughter yet again filling the room.
I'm going to suggest we start cleaning, but when Finn pulls out his phone to take a picture, I don't even hesitate to drop the idea.
For the longest time, it had just been me. My entire life before Adrik was spent wishing for what I have now. During Adrik, I was happy with him and his family, but I still wished for love from my own family. And after him, well, I never imagined life after Adrik. I never thought I'd manage to get away long enough to have a life after him.
Yet here I am: in my living room with my brothers laughing. I have a man who loves me more than life itself upstairs, and a family I'm slowly starting to feel like I'm a part of. I know I'm in over my head. I know at some point I'm going to have to face my living nightmare again, but until then, I can't do anything about it.
Adrik can come for me again, and he will. But I know one thing for sure: when he comes, I won't be alone.
________________________________________________________________________________
Hey, guys! I am so sorry about the very long wait, but here is another chapter. Not a whole lot of action, but after nearly having our FMC nearly killed off in the last chapter, I thought it might be time for a break.
Anyways, tell me what you think, and happy reading!
Final Word Count: 5887