• CHAPTER TWO •

KIERA

I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, my palms slipping in Andre's pooling blood. My back hit the base of the vanity, sending a row of makeup bottles clattering to the floor.

"Don't touch me," I choked out, my voice still raw from Andre's grip on my throat. "Stay the hell away from me."

Lorenzo didn't flinch. Instead, he slowly stepped over Andres's body, his polished leather shoes leaving dark, wet prints on the floor. He tucked the gun back into the holster beneath his jacket with a causal, practiced ease that made my stomach turn.

"You're covered in filth." He murumed, his gaze sweeping over my trembling body, the torn silk robe, and the splatters of blood on my chest.

I didn't say a word and pushed myself up, using the Vanity for support and bolted for the door. I didn't care about anything else. I just needed to run. I needed to get to my babies or else-

Before my fingers could touch the brass handle, Lorenzo's hand shot out. He grabbed my upper arm, his grip like an iron shackle and yanked me back. I collided against his chest, the warmth of him sending a jolt of panic straight to my chest.

"Let me go!" I thrashed, kicking at his shins, clawing at the fine wool of his suit. "Let me go, Lorenzo! Help! Jax!"

"Save your breath," Lorenzo said, his voice flat and utterly untroubled by my struggling. "My men have the club on lockdown. No one is coming in here, Kiera. Especially not your pathetic manager."

I froze, looking up at him through my tangled hair. The dominance in his eyes was terrifying. "Why are you doing this? Why are you here?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he said, his grip tightening just enough to let me know I had no escape. His eyes scanned the small, cheap dressing room, disgust curling his upper lip. "Six years. You vanished into thin air, and I find you stripping in a third rate dive bar on the edge of the city. Why are you here, Kiera? On a stage, selling yourself to lowly beasts?"

"Because I want to," I lied, forcing a cold sneer onto my face, praying he wouldn't hear the frantic racing of my heart. "I like the money. I like the attention,"

Lorenzo's jaw clenched. A dangerous flicker of heat sparked in his eyes, he leaned in, his face now inches from mine. "You're a liar. I know exactly what kind of woman you are, and you don't do this for fun. What are you hiding, Kiera?"

"Nothing!" I gasped, my panic betraying my voice. "It's been six years, Lorenzo. I changed. People change. Now let me go!"

I began to fight him again, twisting my body, desperately trying to slip out of his grasp. But he was too strong. He took my blows as if they were nothing, his expression still hard and unreadable.

Before I could scream again, the door pushed open. A tall man with stark, white hair, brown eyes and young striking ethereal features stepped into the room.

Ice. Lorenzo's best-friend and right hand man since childhood.

His expression was completely blank, his eyes darted to Andres's body on the floor for only a fraction of a second before landing on Lorenzo.

"Boss," Ice said, his voice clipped. "The back path is cleared, but the local police are already on their way. We have about three minutes."

"Alright."

Before I could register what was happening, Lorenzo bent down. He knocked my legs from under me, hoisting me over his shoulder in one swift, brutal motion.

"Put me down!" I shrieked, my fists hammering against his broad back as the blood rushed to my head. "Lorenzo, you bastard, put me down!"

He ignored me, turning and walked out of the dressing room. Ice followed close behind, his eyes scanning the corridors.

The backstage area was in absolute chaos. Sirens were already wailing in the distance, their red and blue lights flashing against the brick walls of the alley. We emerged through the heavy iron fire door, and the cold night air hit my bare legs. Lorenzo strode toward a waiting black sedan, it's engine idling quietly in the dark.

Ice threw open the rear open. Lorenzo leaned down and tossed me onto the leather backseat like a sack of coal.

The moment I hit the leather, I scrambled for the opposite door, my hand desperately reaching for the handle. But before I could pop the lock, Lorenzo climbed into the seat, his large hand clamped around my wrist, pulling me backward with a force that left me breathless.

"Let me fucking go!"

"Shut up!" He yelled, his grip tightening.

Ice slid into the front passenger seat, and the driver instantly slammed his foot on the gas. The tires screeched against the wet asphalt, throwing me back against the seat.

I sat there, my chest heaving, my breath coming in short, ragged gasps. The dark interior of the car was suffocatingly quiet, save for the hum of the engine. I looked down at my wrist, still.firmly held in Lorenzo's iron grip, and then slowly raised my eyes to his face.

He was staring at me, his eyes fixed on me, completely unbothered by the chaos he had just left behind.

Six years. Six years of running, of hiding, of building a fragile life for me and my twins. And in a single night, the past had caught up to me, trapping me in the car with the only man I had ever loved and the only man I truly feared.