Bound By Blood: (The Betrayed Series Book 2) (27 page)

A wild and unruly need to disappear and pretend this isn’t happening pushes around the edges of my subconscious. It’s no use. It’s not like I could even break away to climb off the table. Fighting back a sob, my eyes land on the doctor removing the wand from my cervix. Bile rushes to the surface when he removes it. The white wand is coated with a red sheen from the tip to mid-center. Oh God. That’s my baby.

Gagging, I heave large dry spells of air. The doctor’s raspy voice cuts through my gagging. My panic rises with each word he speaks, the dark shadows I once feared nothing compared to this.

“Her body has rejected the embryo. She is miscarrying. I could not find a heartbeat. What would you like me to do?” He never looks at me or addresses me, only stares into my mother’s dead eyes.

Her lifeless gaze falls on me as she goes into a fit of rage. “Y-You couldn’t even do this one thing right! The one thing you were born to do, and you cannot even carry it out without screwing it up. What good are you?” The anger raging in her system turns her olive skin a deep shade of pink.

Breathing heavily, her angry tone cuts deeply as she says, “You aren’t even a woman. You can’t even carry a child properly.” Looking down her nose at me, a maniacal laugh escapes her.

With laser-like focus, she drills the doctor with her wildly ferocious gaze. “I want you to rip the thing from her body.” Her gaze lands on Jeong, who flinches slightly.

“When it is finished, throw her in a room by herself. I will break her yet.”

Spinning, her heels click furiously as she speeds toward the door. Stopping, she turns to face me.

With features carved from granite and a voice as cold as ice, she says, “You will become pregnant again. I will have an heir, even if I have to treat you like one of those American breeding mares your father used to love so much.” Expelling a breath, her icy stare lands on me. Involuntarily, I shiver.

“Make no mistake about it, Ttal, it will happen whether you wish it or not. This is my world, and you will never escape.” With her parting words, she exits the room, slamming the door behind her.

Terror grips me, squeezing the breath from my very lungs. This can’t be happening. It can’t be real. There’s no way my baby isn’t alive and my mother just told them to cut her from my body. With wild beseeching eyes, I stare at the doctor, who’s coming toward me with a speculum. Cringing, I begin struggling and flailing, trying anything to get away.

The doctors grating voice fills my ears as he says, “Do not move, or it will make it worse when I do the D&C.”

“P-Please don’t. Please, I beg you. Don’t do it! It’s not necessary.”

His eyes reach mine and hold a note of understanding, while his voice harshly contradicts them. “It is, Agassi. It is. Now hold still. I would hate for you to be injured during the process.”

Inserting the speculum, he sprays something cool inside of me. But when I ask what it is, he just ignores me as if I don’t exist. Hot tears emerge, wetting my cheeks as he settles between my thighs. Taking a deep breath, I silently whisper an apology to my unborn child. I’m sorry for putting you through this. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you. But most of all . . . I’m sorry for not being strong enough.

Gripping the table, my back bows as a primal scream is ripped from my lungs. Razor sharp pains drag along my cervix. It’s as if I can feel him draining the life from inside me, taking her very essence. Every slide of the curette takes a piece of my heart, my soul, along with the embryo of my unborn child. The pain scouring through my body slices my insides to shreds, leaving nothing behind.

Slash after slash scrapes against my cervix, the pain a never-ending stream of agonizing torture. Tightness constricts, holding my lungs hostage as blackness slowly seeps its way into my vision. As my eyes begin to flutter, succumbing to the blessed numbness, my heart frays, shattering into millions of tiny pieces. I once thought I’d been broken, betrayed by my own blood, but I was wrong. This is so much worse. There is no coming back from this.

E
FFICIENT, THAT’S HOW
I
LIKE
things done. Quick, effective, and efficient. Furrowing my brow, I scowl at Colonel Parker for the third time. This is going to end badly. I can feel it like one of those scabs you pick at so much it festers and becomes infected.

“This is stupid,” I mutter so only I can hear.

It’s like watching the A-Team get Hannibal dressed only without all the cool theme music. I always have a plan he says . . . A really stupid one, apparently. He’s bound to be noticed even in that getup. My eyes dart back to the Colonel, perusing the prosthetic mask and makeup being applied. Annoyed, I huff out a breath. All right.

Maybe not in that getup. Who knew the Colonel was so . . . crafty? Irritation beats at my already frayed edges. It’s still a stupid plan. If he’s recognized, this whole thing could blow up. Sang-Hyun’s our only chance at finding her. He’s my last resort.

Well, I feel like he’s my last resort. No matter what happens tonight, I’ll never stop. Not until she’s in the safety of my arms again, and once she’s there, she’ll be lucky if I let her leave to go to the bathroom. Growling in frustration, I pace the room. The Colonel looks at me out of the corner of his eye.

“Stop fretting, everything is going to be fine.” His confident tone does nothing to soothe the beast within.

“I don’t see how. This plan is risky. What if someone figures out who you are?” I retort. Still pacing, I prowl the space like a caged animal.

“They won’t. Besides, this is much better than Casa-Noah over there dressing in drag.”

“Hey! You don’t know what you’re missing. My hot Mexican ass and these sexy legs in a tight skirt . . .” Tossing the Colonel a wink, Noah runs his hands sensually over his body. “Mmm mmm mmm. Finger lickin’ good, Big Daddy P. Finger lickin’ good,” Noah quips, a huge grin slathered on his face.

Growling, I pound my fist into the coffee table. The frustration that’s been festering since the day she disappeared is bubbling to the top. Sam takes several strides in my direction, his massive frame filling up the space. My chest heaves, each choppy exhale pushing my sternum out further.

“What!” I snap.

Sam’s 6’2” frame seems to grow before my eyes, his ebony skin drawing taut as he pulls his arms across his broad chest. Looming over me, he hovers, watching silently as I struggle to regain discipline and control. After a moment of watching me struggle, he says, “You done having your break down, princess?”

Princess? Did that fucker call me princess? A smile tugs at the corner of Sam’s lips, amusement hidden in the depths of his irises. Running my tongue over my teeth, I take a moment before I respond. “I’m not a princess.”

Laughter rings out across the room. Deep bellowing laughter, the kind of laughter from a memory you talk about for years to come. One of those rich bonding moments, where memories are made and you can’t help but laugh at it years down the road. Sam’s smile broadens as he raises an eyebrow in my direction.

“Out of everything I said, princess is all you got?”

Scowling, I cross my arms over my chest. It’s clear I’m pouting like a petulant child from the look on Sam’s face.

“It’s not all I got,” I reply.

Sam lets out a chuckle and steps forward, clapping me on the shoulder, his expression growing serious as he says, “AJ, we’ve been friends a long time, man. Hell, you’re my best friend, you know that.” He swallows, taking a moment.

Sam’s right. We are best friends. Have been since basic training. We’ve been through everything together, and I mean everything . . . and Sam has dealt with some nasty shit.

Inhaling once, he continues, “I know this is difficult. Hell, you were there for me when . . .” His face contorts, twisting in pain.

“You don’t have to talk about it, man. I was there. I remember.” My voice is thick with emotion as I stare into my friend’s eyes.

Nodding, he says, “What I’m saying is, you’ve not been yourself lately. I understand why. I really do, but that’s not who she needs right now . . .” I bristle at his comment, cutting him off before he can finish.

“What do you mean what she needs right now?” Irritation weaves its way into my tone.

“Calm down, AJ. Let me finish, man.” Blowing out a breath, he continues. “What I’m trying to say is she doesn’t need this version of you. The man who’s on the verge of losing his sanity . . . the princess losing his shit. She needs the proverbial knight in shining armor.”

I scoff at his comment. “I am no knight in shining armor, my friend.”

Sam smiles broadly, his white teeth gleaming against his ebony skin. “No, a knight you are not. A badass motherfucker that will storm the castle and kill every last son of a bitch in there to save the woman he loves . . . now that you are. You’re trained for these situations, but you’re letting emotions guide you. Let me help with that. Lean on me, talk to me. Don’t bottle the shit up, man. I’m your best friend; it’s what I’m here for. Right now, though, put the princess away and bring out the killer. I need the Alpha. I need the death bringer. She needs them. We all do.”

Instantly, my tumultuous emotions die down, the princess being locked away in her ivory tower. Locking eyes with my best friend, I blink several times, letting his words reach me on a deeper level. The hazy fog that’s been a constant companion clears. The change must be recognizable because right away, Sam’s smile grows impossibly wider as he says, “There he is . . . and just in time, too.”

Shooting him a bird, I laugh as he blows me a kiss. “In your dreams! You are so not my type,” I say, laughingly.

Smacking me on the shoulder, we go and join the others around Hannibal. Inwardly I smirk, I think I might call him that from now on.

“Well, what do you think?” the Colonel asks, spinning around in the chair.

Doing a double take, I blink a few times, staring in wonderment. If it weren’t for his voice, I’d not even recognize him. Sitting before me is Gyeong Chee. Well, his doppelgänger, anyway. It’s uncanny how accurate it is. They could be twins all the way down to the messy black hair and the dark brown eyes.

“Son of a bitch,” I murmur, reaching forward to poke his cheek. Slapping my hand, the Colonel chortles at my reaction.

“What he said,” Sam mumbles, his mouth practically on the floor.

“Well, I guess that means there won’t be any issue with my fooling anyone,” the Colonel says, turning to Cooper. How in the hell did I not know he had this skill?

Pushing away the thought, I say, “Looking like Chee is one thing, but picking up his mannerisms and speaking like him, that’s a whole other story. It’s still risky.”

Rubbing his fake chin, he replies, “Yes, but you underestimate me. I’ve been working intel for almost as long as you’ve been alive. I know them, I speak their language, and I know their mannerisms. Hell, I was married to a Korean woman for years. I know their customs. Trust me, I observed Chee. It will be fine.”

“Well, it’s too late to change the plan now. Brighton, are you all set?”

Brighton strides into the room, his nose buried in his laptop. “You rang?” he asks, taking a seat, never letting his eyes leave his computer.