Taylor Swift - The Great War

The smearing pain, like flesh under blazing hot water, gripped Rory's abdomen, somehow, she pushed her body up with her elbows. Her teeth clamped down on the inside of her cheek to muffle the winced moments away from erupting. Blood fell on her tongue and she clasped back down on the mattress, taking deep breathes to calm herself.

This would be nothing compared to what was coming in 6 to 7 months time.

Once again, Rory pushed herself off the bed while tears prickled her eyes. Every step, every movement felt like her body was set ablaze. She eventually made it to the mirror where she inspected the straight gash across the top of her stomach.

Luci was kind enough to not cut her too deep and was even kinder to let a doctor see her. She should be grateful but the thought only left a bitter after taste.

It was a warning, Rory recalled, any more defiance from her meant more excruciating pain.

At least she was moved from the damped basement room to one of the private family floors. Except every escape route was locked and she risked being caught if she smashed through the glass of the French doors.

Cradling her belly, Rory stood by the door watching a storm raged outside while she settled the one violently brewing in her chest. Anger plagued her day and night - at what she wasn't entirely sure.

Gideon's death? Betraying him? Being too trusting? Too naive?

In the end, these reasons led to one thing - her actions. It was her fault, her inability to accept her fate. She should have sat quietly became Gideon's trophy wife.

"Even if you did escape, you won't make it far in this weather and not in the condition you're in."

The nonchalant voice of Luci sent shudders down her spine. She spun on her heels, arms protectively wrapping around her belly and eyes narrowing at the figure casually leaning against the doorframe.

Luci was donned in a black sheer dress, slender fingers in long gloves and a black formal headpiece with a short veil that fell over he eyes.

She looked like a nightmare incarnated; the opposite of the once loving person Rory knew. Or, thought she knew.

"I'm in mourning." She smirked, sensing Rory's eyes on her. "My big brother died and my sister-in-law chose me to represent her at the will reading because she's heavily pregnant and can't move around so easily."

Rory bite the inside of her cheek, feeling ashamed of having given in so easily to Luci's demand. Giving her the rights to represent her was the only way she could stop her from cutting her stomach any deeper.

"Great story, right?"

In mere steps Luci cornered her, towering over her in those high heels. As if on instinct, Rory curled her arms tighter over her stomach and pushed herself further into the French doors. Every fibre in her screamed to run because a fight with Luci was a fight she'd never win. Because after all, Luci was like her brother.

Twisted and calculating - always one step ahead of everyone else.

"I'm going to Bogotá to retrieve what's mine." She said in a low tone. "Be a good girl and I won't cut that baby out of you." A slender hand reached out to stroke Rory's curls. "I'll let you keep the last bits of him as a reminder of what you've done to your child."

Luci stepped back and a sinister smile tugged at her lips; "He would've been a leader, a respected and feared figure in South America. He would've been something great just like the men before him but his mother was a selfish and spiteful brat; a dumb bimbo who's only purpose was to be a sex toy. She was only focused on getting back her sad and pathetic life that she didn't see the opportunities swimming at her feet."

Her words, harsh but true, shot through her self esteem reducing it all to nothing. Rory slide down the glass and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside her she knew the truth and but hearing it out loud stung.

She hugged her knees and the feeling of helplessness strangled her.

"You're pathetic." Luci continued, "If only you didn't side with me. If could've only been contented with just warming my brother's bed, you might still have everything and more."

The bedroom door clicked shut as she strutted out. Eventually, a choked sob bursted from her lips followed by a scream of frustration.

Weak, weak, weak.

She fisted her skirt as hot tears poured down her cheeks.

"Fuck you." She gritted out to herself.

~*~

Angry grey clouds blanketed the sky and spat down thick drops of rain.

They splattered against the glass creating a soothing rhythm that, in the past, may have calmed the raging storm stirring inside him. Now hearing the noise only drove him further to homicide.

Gideon tightened his jaw, rubbing his palm roughly down his face. He drank the rest of the bourbon before turning and aiming the glass at the wedding picture he had placed on the wall of his office. It shattered into pieces, toppling over the canvas and causing it to fall flat against the ground.

He gained no satisfaction watching their wedding photo laying hopelessly on the ground.

Because he still loved her with all his soul.

No matter what she did, Gideon loved her.

She was the antidote to his poison, the right to his wrongs and answers to all his questions. Rory, Rory, Rory - her name playing in his head like a broke record. He couldn't sleep without her nor could he think clearly or function normally. That's why she needed to come back - to bring him peace again.

Although he had an idea where she was likely to be, he wasn't quite sure of her well-being. Gideon was willing to let her be as long as she was happy and healthy.

That's what he wanted but, the thought of her happy without him ruined him.

"Why?"

He turned to face Gabriela in her beige cigarette trousers and matching knitted top. Dark hair tied into a sleek ponytail and skin donned with golden jewellery, complimenting her complexion. She stood arms crossed and feet tapping annoyingly against the floor.

"Why what?"

"Why are you going after her?" She demanded. "She chose Luciana. She made Luciana her proxy for the will reading - she's giving Luciana everything!"

He took a deep breathe, "Then, that will be the last choices she'll ever make." He sank into the chair, loosening his ties while glancing around the office - photos of her and scans of their baby surrounded him. The once immaculate, emptied of anything he held dear, was full of things that reminded him of her.

Contrary to he wanted for Rory, Gideon was determined to bring her back even if it was against her will. Her home was with him, he was going to ensured that. She would be happy, he would make her happy - by choice or by force.

Gritting her teeth, Gabriela narrowed her eyes and said, "Whatever you and Sebastian are planning, make it quick because the press are pressuring us to make a statement soon. They want to know where you are."

"Don't worry, I intend to bring my pregnant wife home soon then I'll address the press."

Gideon moved to sleek black cabinet; his thumb found the scanner causing the lock to click open. It revealed shelves of weapons - black matte hand guns, rifles, daggers and blades.

He strapped on a bullet proof vest and arranged the daggers and guns neatly into its holsters.

He didn't need these weapons but they certainly made him intimidating. He raged an aura of authority and a blood thirsty need for vengeance - who against? His sister and his former friend. Or perhaps, his own wife? Or maybe all of them.

As he fastened the last strap around his waist, he marched - thick black boots clicking against the porcelain surface - towards parked SUV sitting on the drive. His soldiers in black and cameo uniform were loading cases of equipment into the vehicles.

Sebastian, for the past week, had been hard at work arranging for his men to infiltrate the Herrera compound. They were disguised as gardeners, in house severance from chefs to maids and butlers. He had the compound surrounded with trained killers.

His trained killers.

The Herrera's wouldn't stand a chance. The numbers and the loyalties weren't in their favour.

Gideon climbed into the Jeep Wrangler and with the raise of his palm, engines roared to life. They were heading up the mountains towards the back of the stables where three sleek helicopters patiently waited for them.

It would take his army of men less than a hour to land near the Herrera's mansion and twenty minutes to storm it.

Rory would be his again before the night ended.

~*~

"Mama," Cristian sighed in frustration. "Mama I have not heard from Papa or my brothers either. Call me once you have gotten into touch with them."

With a angry huff, he slammed down the home phone onto the counter. It was meant to be a time of joyousness and the rise of what once was a well respected family. Yet, his father and brothers were nowhere to be seen.

And with his mother constantly ringing every device in the mansion - he was growing more irritated.

With the addition of a child screaming atop her lungs and non-stop tears, red faced and snot - he wanted nothing more than to ran away. Far away perhaps to a nightclub in Morocco or brothel in Amsterdam. Anywhere was sufficient enough if it meant he didn't have to deal with the little girl.

Cristian slowly and hesitantly staggered up the staircase to Cielo's bedroom, her screams growing louder as he got closer. There were feelings a parent should feel when their child cried like she was in pain but he felt nothing. He was absent at her birth - partying away in a penthouse in London, getting high and fucking every beautiful girls his eyes landed on.

"That's enough." He warned, opening the bedroom door.

The little girl was curled up on the bed, a brown stuffed teddy in her hands as she rocked back and forth. Big glassy brown eyes stared back at him, eyes that could have brought fathers to their knees. Except, he wasn't a father and won't be brought onto his knees by anyone.

He approached her with a sigh; standing at the edge of the pastel pink canopy bed. An awkward tension sank into the room and he swallowed an unpleasant feeling in his throat.

The only reason he was tolerating the little girl was because he was aware it was the quickest way to get his hands into the deep pockets of the Torres family. Cristian knew Luci, she won't give him a cut of Gideon's estate unless he had pleased her. And, the only way to do so was get along with his daughter.

"That's enough crying from you." He snapped, failing to understand how so much tears could come out of such a tiny figure. "We're all sick and tired of hearing it. Look, even your mother has gone away."

The wailing continued, full of force and ear-splittingly loud; the noise urging the hand on his ticking time bomb to spin faster.

Cristian's face scrunches, twisting into an ugly scold. He reached for his daughter, taking her forearm into a tight grip. He lifted her up and stormed out of the room.

He took her down the hallway towards furthest room heavily guarded by hired professionals. They stepped aside as he kicked down the door.

"You're due to have a child soon, take care of this one." He spat, shoving his daughter towards the bed.

Cristian slammed the door shut, straighten his jacket and headed for the garage. Luci had left for Bogotá hours ago and it won't hurt anyone if he could have a moment of peace and escaped to one of his notorious strip clubs.

Luci was a good fuck but not as tight and fresh as she was. Neither was she as delicate and meek as before. He grabbed the keys to the Benz and sped quickly out of the mansion.

Up above the balcony, Rory watched the headlights of the car disappeared pass the gates with Cielo cling to her hips.

"I want to go home." She muttered almost inaudibly. "Let's go home." Cielo said a little louder when she realised Rory didn't strike her.

She looked down at the little girl who's eyes brimmed with sad tears. Rory felt it, the desperation to escape - to go home. She swallowed the thick lump in her throat and smiled.

"Yeah let's go home."