Forbidden Temptation My Mafia Fiance's Alpha Father (Brooklyn and Aden)

Chapter 13

Brooklyn

I'm in a daze, half in consciousness, half out of it.

I hear a moan.

Did that come from me?

open my eyes, frowning. Where's the car? I close my eyes. against the warm yellow light of the room. I want to wake up, but I feel sleep pressing me back down-

A prick at my finger...

I jump at it, pushing away the hands that hold my arm-

"It's all right," a woman's soft voice says. "All done now..."

Then, a man's voice...

I-swim out of the darkness, propelled by fear. I know that voice.

"...to the lab, I want fast processing. I want it compared to the bloodline..."

I shake my head, groaning. I blink, looking around the finely furnished room. I don't know this place.

I push myself up until I'm seated with my feel curled beneath

me on a chaise lounge. I'm still wearing my club outfit, but someone has buttoned a man's white shirt over top of it.

I reach out for Lena, but she feels far away. She's there, but everything is foggy.

As I put my weight on my hands, I feel pain in my finger. I look down to see a red dot on the end of it, the puncture would already healing.

The woman taking my blood, the man demanding it be taken to the lab...

It wasn't a dream!

Panic seizes me. I must be somewhere on Kenwood's property. I grip the fabric of the couch, looking around for some kind of escape. There

are windows, but they look out on treetops.

Horrible images flood my mind. What the hell does Kenwood want with my blood? I can't begin to fathom what a criminal like him would be doing with my blood. Any option that runs. through my brain is terrifying. I stare at the door, craning my neck and trying to see if I can scent or hear anyone outside of it. Maybe if I just run-

The door swings open, and I hold my breath.

Aden Kenwood stands in the doorway, studying me as I stare at him. I know what he sees-

a feral, frightened creature, her wolf ready to spring.

But he doesn't laugh at me or scare me any further. After a long moment, he just closes the door behind him and walks. forward.

'y breath comes faster as he approaches, as he reaches in his pocket, brings forward-oh my god-a knife-

I flinch away from it, and he sighs, continuing to hold out his hand.

"It's your knife, Brooklyn. I'm just returning your property."

I go still, glancing between his face

and the knife in his hand. My mother's knife. I leap forward to snatch it out of his palm, but he yanks it away, putting out his other hand to halt my movement. His hand lands squarely on my chest, and he gives. a tiny shove, pushing me back onto the lounge.

"Easy, Brooklyn," he says, his voice all authority. "I'll give it

back. I just want you to answer some questions first."

I stare up at him, totally freaked out.

"And if you don't answer my

questions, Brooklyn Knox," he says, leaning forward to loom over me, his voice merely a whisper, "I'll flush this knife down the drain, and you'll never see it again."

I clench my jaw and nod, my eyes on my mother's knife, desperate to get it back. It's the only personal thing I have of hers.

"Where did you get that knife, Brooklyn Knox?" he asks, straightening up and putting the hand with the knife in his pocket.

"My mother," I say softly, twirling a stray strand of my hair around my index finger. Why does he keep saying my

last name like that? "She gave it to me."

He nods slowly, thinking. "When did she give it to you?"

"In her will. My dad told me to carry it always, to remember her, and for protection."

Kenwood cocks his head to the side, curious: "And who, precisely, is your father?"

I snap my eyes up at him, frowning. Why does he care who my father is, but not my mother?

"None of your business," I snip. "He's a good person. You can't hurt him-"

"Brooklyn," he says, smiling down at

me, a little cruel. "In this city, I can hurt whoever I want. You think you~~ are trying to delay me by holding back his name, but with every

elo

minute you hesitate, that's one more minute of pain. For you. Or him. Or

your sister."

My eyes widen in horror at the threat.

Hmirks at me, a smug cat that has trapped its supper.

"Their names, Brooklyn."

"Stephen and Jolie Knox," I murmur, not knowing what else. to do. "Please..." I'm begging now. "Please don't hurt them. They're good people. They're not involved in..." In whatever this is. But what is this, anyway? Why am I here?

He nods again and takes his hand out of his pocket, offering the blade to me. I snatch it out of his palm. Then, he turns to leave the room.

Desperate, I play my trump card.

"Please!" I shout after him. "Please don't hurt them! Hudson wouldn't want you to!"