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She turns to face me, her expression determined. "I'm not going to let my family control my life, Ollie. I won't let my fears control my life. I won't let any of them break me."
I cup her face in my hands, unable to stop myself. My touch is gentle as I hold her gaze. "I know, Renata. But it’s my job to protect you now.”
“It’s our job to protect each other.” She smiles sadly, her eyes shining with tears she won’t shed. “We have to fight back. And not every method of protection means a fist.”
“Yeah.” I nod. My mother protected me from my father, even though he outweighed her in power and rank by a landslide.
“I won’t live in fear,” I whisper. “We have to fight back. And the first way we do that is by making sure you don't have a tracker in you.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh, God,” she whispers. “You do think it’s a tracker.”
I nod. “I waited until the wedding, but it’s time. I’m getting that fucking thing out of you now, no matter how much it hurts. You’re strong. You’ll be fine.”
“Oh my God,” she repeats in a heated whisper. She pulls out from under my arm and claws at her skin. “I was afraid of that, but the thought—of thatinme--Get it out! I want it out! How do we remove it?”
That’s my girl.
Pride tightens my chest. “It will hurt. Flesh repairs quickly. By now, the skin has grown around it.”
“It hasn't been that long," she says softly, unable to hide her grimace.
"Long enough. First, I have to contact Aleks. Let’s get upstairs.”
“Do it,” she says, her tone vehement. “I won’t be a pawn in his game anymore. Please, Ollie.”
I nod and make the call as we walk swiftly to my room. On the landing, he picks up.
“Ollie? You alright?”
"I think Renata has a tracking device in her arm. I want to check, and if my instinct is right, I need to take it out immediately.”
“Jesus. You think they did it when they attacked and cut her arm?”
“Yeah.” I open the door. Large vases of white and red roses sit on every flat surface. On the small table in the entrance sits a bottle of champagne nestled in an ice bucket and a silver platter of chocolate-dipped strawberries.
We’ll get to that. I point to the armchair for her to sit. She obeys, enveloped in a cloud of satin and lace.
I cover the speaker. “Take it off,” I whisper. I take my hand off. “Go on,” I tell Aleks.
“Alright, so first we have to make sure that's exactly what you’re dealing with.” In front of me, Renata unfastens button after button, slowly undressing. I help her tug off the miles of fabric until she’s standing in front of me wearing a matching white satin bra and panties.
I’m instantly hard. I grit my teeth and concentrate. “Alright. Tell me how I find it?”
“I have an app that can detect a signal from subcutaneous tracking devices. You’ll have to put me on speaker. You’ll see me airdrop an app. Install it. That will give me permission.”
I see a red flash and a prompt. I hit the button.
“Got it. You’re in. Now, hold your phone near the wound on her arm.”
God, it's amazing what he can do. This modern technology shit.
I hold the phone close to her bare arm as Aleks does his thing.
“Give me a second. I'm setting it up it now. This is going to scan for any radio frequencies nearby. If it is a tracker, it will ping."
I watch the screen nervously, not sure why. And then I realize if it shows that there is a tracker,I'mgoing to get the fucking thing out of her. I could have one of my brothers do it, but no one’s fucking touching her.
The app shows a progress bar as it scans. Renata is breathing quickly, but she stares bravely at the screen right along with me.
