KING : Children of Wolves Book 1 - MC Romance Series | Dark Romance

Chapter Forty Three - Serafina

Never let them see you cry.

Never let them see you cry.

Never let them see you fucking cry.

My heart lurches in my chest when they walk in. Beside me, there are empty cages everywhere, yet for some reason they've stuffed me into the smallest one, forcing me to crouch on my heels.

Fucking Drogo and Tatiana. When this is all over, I'm going to kill them. I don't mean that as a figure of speech; I want both of them fucking dead.

It feels like it takes ages for papa and King to reach me. My chest heaves. I pictured this moment a hundred times over. Each time it was like something from a movie. My father and Kingston blast in, coming to save me.

Instead, they're just leisurely strolling toward me. Kingston's hands are in his pockets. How fucking casual.

No rush. No hurry. It's fine, guys. I'm only in a fucking cage, after all.

I try to speak, but my throat is so dry. Actually, it makes me cough. I'm coughing so hard that I almost throw up.

My wrists burn as they rattle against the cuffs. Like an animal, they bound my hands to the top of the cage. When the top flips open, I'm pulled out like an overturned jack in the box, falling out sideways. Bending down, without a word, my father unlocks the cuffs. This moment is so surreal. I'm saved.

With a pounding heart, I try to stand, but my knees are wobbly. Muscles and joints ache and groan. I have no idea how long I've been crouched in that position, but my body is stiff all over. Like he knows I need him, King reaches out and pulls me up to my feet.

Never let them see you cry.

Right now, though, I just want to bury my face in his chest and sob. It's over. He found me. And I'm so fucking thankful.

Just like those first moments when I was taken, the next events happen slowly but so fast. They're like a blur that creeps by. Time is a funny fucking thing.

King pulls me back and surveys my body as if he finds me lacking.

I realize that it doesn't make sense that my father had keys to the cuffs.

Why did he have the keys? It's what I'm asking myself when I turn my head to look at him.

King puts strong fingers on my jaw, snapping my head back to him. Quickly, his backhand connects to my face, and I feel like my body is actually melting into the floor.

He holds me up, though. My heart clenches. It seizes right there in my chest. King isn't my savior. He is what he's always been- my captor.

"Papa," I whimper. I expect him to react. I expect him to protect me. He may not have been overly affectionate, but at least he loves me. At least he cares about me. He wouldn't let someone do this to me in front of him.

My eyes are focused on the buttons on King's black shirt. I can't look anywhere but that little shiny top button. I'm too terrified of what I might see.

A harsh wave crashes over me. It's like I'm adding up numbers in my mind. Everything pieces together so clearly now.

The turn over in the club. Girls don't leave, they're brought here. They're put in these cages and... I can't finish the thought.

The keys. My father had them. He knew where I'd be because he's in on this.

Kingston.

That's the part I don't understand. If he's a part of this, why didn't he just say that when he took me? Why did he pretend to go through this elaborate ruse? Why... fuck. Tears well in my eyes. Looking up, blinking, I try to hold them back, but they're in full force. "Why did you want me to love you?" I can barely whisper it.

That was the biggest torture of all. He could have just fucked me. He didn't need to fuck my heart in the process.

He could slap me a hundred times more. He could lock me in that cage for days. I'd never feel more broken than I do now.

For a moment, I think I see pity in his eyes. I can't keep looking at his face, though. It's too painful. He grips the back of my neck and like the obedient dog I apparently am; I follow. On numb legs he marches us through the club and my father tells him to tend to his business with me, then meet him in one of the private rooms.

Drogo stands by, arms folded, with a satisfying sneer on his face. I want, more than anything, for Kingston to show me at least a little mercy and I don't know... drag me away by my hair or something. I want him to do anything other than give Drogo the satisfaction of watching this.

But I know him. He has no mercy. And that's why he lets him see everything.