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I curl into myself. But Keaton grabs me by my hair and pulls my head back. His fist raised, he pounds my face. “And that’s cause I don’t fucking like you.” I roll to my stomach, blood already coming from my lip. I groan and hold up a hand, trying to show I’m okay.
I can hear Tilly wailing and look over. She’s thrashing against her grandfather. But Papa shoves her back a little until she’s back on the mattress.
Ricardo reaches down and yanks me to my feet. “All right! That’s enough. You hit him too much, and it won’t look good. Everyone calm the fuck down!”
“I’m calm,” I manage, spitting some blood out. “Tilly, we’re calm, right?”
She nods shakily.
Ricardo bobs his head once. “You’re a smart man. Let’s get this over with.” He opens the door and tucks his gun away. As we walk away from the room, he whispers into my ear. “Say one fucking word, and I will come back for her. Do you understand?”
“I understand you’re an asshole.” I whisper the words back, but Ricardo only laughs.
“A rich asshole that’s not at the bottom of Griffith Park, so I’ll take it.” I cast one final look over my shoulder. The hotel room door has closed. I guess that Keaton and the rest of them will wait until the deed is finished before leaving Tilly’s side.
I close my eyes as I’m led to a waiting car. If I can pretend my children and Tilly will be safe because I’m gone, it might almost be worth it. But deep down, I know it will never end. Tilly and my babies will forever be at the mercy of the Cardenas family. I have failed.
Chapter forty-three
Tilly
I’m still crying on the bed, my face buried in my hands. They’ve taken him, and I’ll never see him again. I always knew this was a real possibility. God, Tommy shouldn’t have punched Keaton. But deep down, I know that wouldn’t have prevented this. Tia is dead, Papa is in charge, and everything is wrong.
“Would you shut up? There’s a million other dudes out there,” Keaton says. I don’t even bother responding.
My phone rings, and Keaton lazily looks at the screen. “Fucking Andy.” He silences the call and picks at his fingernails. Papa is looking at his own device.
“There’s an issue at the warehouse.” He looks at one of the other cousins, Don. “You wanna stay with her? I need to handle this,” he says.
“No problem,” Don replies without moving a muscle.
Papa and the other two stride towards the door. Before opening it, Papa sighs. “We take care of our own, Matilda. I know this hurts, but it’s for your own good.”
The string of curse words I want to shout at him is on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them at bay. As soon as they’re gone, Don grabs the remote and switches on the TV.
“You proud of yourself? Holding your pregnant cousin hostage?” I snap at him.
He shrugs. “Better than killing my pregnant cousin, I guess.” I scoff at his blunt words, and he sighs. “Jesus, Til, like I had a real choice.”
My phone rings again, and Don gets up to look at the screen. Keaton left it on the TV stand. As he does, my heart rate picks up. The path to the door is open, but I’m not as quick as I used to be.
But if I push myself, bang on the neighbor’s door or something, maybe someone could call the police and stop Ricardo from hurting Tommy.
I jump to my feet and sprint to the door. When I rip it open, Don spins around. “What the hell are you doing?”
I run out without answering him, screaming for help as I do.
“Tilly!” Sam’s voice comes from down the outdoor hall, and I immediately head that way. But Don is right on my tail. I can almost feel the powerful man’s hands brush against my back.
I’m halfway around the corner where Sam’s voice had sounded when Don grabs me by the hair. My head is yanked to the side, and I twist before falling on the hard concrete. Pain erupts everywhere, stabbing furiously into my back. The wind is knocked out of my lungs. I cough, trying to inhale in a panic, my palms on the cold scratchy surface by my side. As if they're trying to find something to hold on to.
But there’s a scream of fury, and I see Sam launch herself at Don.
“Run, Tilly!” Sam screams as she wrestles with the giant on the ground. I rise to my feet, my back screaming in protest, and start limping away. The first door I reach, I bang on it, begging for help.
An old lady’s face appears in the attached window, her phone to her ear with a look of shock on her face.
“Please! Help us!” The old lady shakes her head and points to the phone. I spin and start jogging to the next door. Before I can even knock, it swings open, and a powerful hand yanks me inside.
