Page 95 of Coerced

Her words struck me. When I’d been shown the picture of them bound and gagged, my heart squeezed. I was devastated for them, and all I wanted to do was make sure they were safe and alive.

But now that I was here and listening to their words, I realized my mistake. They didn’t care about me the way I cared about them. I’d told myself that was the case months ago, but at the very least, Mom and Jasmine werein the dark. And I guess in some way, I wanted to believe that if they knew the truth, they’d understand. They’d be horrified by what Dad did and demand we find another way.

“I guess I thought the three of you actually cared. I’m sad to say I was wrong.”

“Aria, don’t go,” my mom pleaded with me. “Don’t do this.”

“What do you want from me? We’ve got psychotic men downstairs, and the three of you are content to sit around waiting for them to decide what happens next? I’m not interested in doing that. I’ve got something worth fighting to get out of this for.”

“She’s choosing a guy over her family,” Jasmine announced.

“My family chose money over me.”

With nothing left to say, I walked back toward the window and unlocked it. As I opened it, so I could assess the situation, my sister started screaming. “Help! Help!” She banged on the door, alerting Ronne, Vic, or whoever was watching over this room to what was happening. In that instant, any shred of love and respect I had for her was gone.

Not wanting to leave anything to chance, I shoved my hands hard against the screen, and it immediately fell to the ground. Then I was urging my body out the window.

But I didn’t get very far, because a pair of arms clamped around my waist. I struggled against them, belatedly noticing they were my dad’s arms.

And a moment later, Ronnie was back in the room. My dad helped him hold me down until they got my wrists and ankles bound together.

Any love I had for my dad died right there. What parent would do this to their child?

It was also in that moment when I learned what real love was. That’s why a vision of Paxton flashed through my mind. That man knew what love was, would go to the ends of the earth for people he cared about. And the worst part about realizing how much he meant to me was that, even if some miracle allowed me to get out of this alive, Paxton would never want anything to do with me again. Not once he learned what I’d been involved in.

Once I was tied up and left alone with my family again, I shut down.

My mom tried talking to me. My dad and sister, too.

I didn’t say a word.

There was nothing left to say.

So, I let them talk. I let them try to say all the things they thought would help convince me to do what they wanted me to do. But I’d never do it.

They’d never see another painting from me again.

Instead, I sat with thoughts of Paxton in my mind.

Time passed.

I didn’t know how much.

Then the doorbell rang, and something told me the hour was up.

TWENTY-SIX

Paxton

Focused.

If there was one word that I’d use to describe myself in work-related situations, that would be it.

In any instance where someone had been kidnapped—whether held for ransom or not—I never had a difficult time remaining alert and clear-minded. My job required me to rescue people who’d been taken under duress, and the situations almost always had a high level of intensity surrounding them. My concentration needed to be top tier in my career.

Never, not once in all the years I’d been working at Harper Security Ops, had I ever felt like this.

While I knew I needed to be engaged in my job, following the specific protocol my coworkers and I always used, this time was different.