A Dark Place (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

I rub my hand over my goatee, knowing what I am about to say will single-handedly set off a bomb of mass destruction, and I don’t want to be the one to push the lever. I am too young for this shit.

  Bring in a replacement; send me back to the womb.

  “Megan…”

  “Wait,” he says. “Did you pick up Iris?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She texted right before the accident,” he slowly replies. “They found my phone…it’s in that bag of my belongings. Feel free to read it.”

  “Cancel that. Ride here.”

  With a quiver, I inquire, “Did you talk to her too?”

  “I did,” he responds. “She was stuck in the rain because Keishi kicked her off the plane. She had to have texted you.”

  I check my phone. “I got nothing.”

  “Is Megan okay?” he questions. “She never made it to lunch. I imagine she got stuck at work.”

  “She went home,” I whisper as my voice cracks, tormented and unable to keep my shit together. “Nicky…”

  His keening will vibrate in my soul forever. And as I march out of the hospital on my Master’s command to harm, I pray I never hear that kind of excruciating grief from my lungs.

  108

  And

  His Butterfly

  What better way to initiate the new Lotus Queen than for two Italian guineas to rape her in the backseat of a black SUV. Preparing for the traumatic violation to unfold, I shut my eyes to their crimes and the rain-wrapped light of day as I journey, as a soloist, toward the darkness I have shunned.

  I cannot stop them.

  I cannot get out of this.

  I am thirty-five weeks pregnant.

  I will not unravel.

  I will not give in.

  I must be victorious.

  The thunder vibrates the earth, sending a quaking shiver through my back as I lay against the seat, and Alessi repeatedly pounds his unyielding cock into me.

  “In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, I claim you mine. I am so in love with you, my Dandelion.” My eyes lower as Sal fastened the collar on my neck.

  I turn away, refusing to acknowledge his deed by sight or taste. It’s bad enough I can hear the squeaking from under the seat and smell the booze on Giacomo’s breath, filtering into my nostrils like a mask concealing my muzzle.

  This is not the dentist, and I am not your patient.

  Suffocate, bitch.

  Aki put me in the cold chambers—in a fucking cage—to be able to withstand this moment. Do not breathe the noxious fumes in their moment of desperation. Do not fall prey to their insidious acts.

  “Be of the water and flow,” Baba said to me. “Look for the cracks and flow your currents there.”

  He suddenly stills inside of me. “Why aren’t you fighting back?” He turns my head and slaps my cheek. “Open your eyes, you fucking Asian slut!”

  Technically, correct.

  But I prefer specificity.

  “I am Anglo-Japanese, you halfwitted simpleton. Get your slang right.”

  “Open your eyes and fuck my dick, geisha whore.”

  “I shouldn’t expect much of an improvement from a moron whose meat will soon be maggot-infested,” I hiss as he smacks his open palm against my cheek again. My blood-red heart fades into a throbbing charred organ full of loathing. “This goes in direct violation of The Commission, and it will be your final act, asshole.”

  His hands are heartless.

  With no consideration or feeling, Sal delivers me.

  Unsealing my eyes, I reveal one of the few identifying characteristics of my cultural heritage. I do it because I have no other choice.

  “I do not want to fight you. I do not want to fuck you. I do not want to move with you,” I robotically reply, not letting their joint venture go unnoted. It is essential to take the minutes, a reclamation of mind and body as to where I am and who did what. I must own it. This rape is mine. “This is not a collaborative effort. You are invading my space. You are encroaching on my sacred place. You are raping me.”

  “Move with me, baby,” he whispered, nuzzling my neck and waking me up this morning after my first night at the Swamp Shack. He slipped in behind me as I laid on the bed, fast asleep. I gasped at his intrusion, but it was warm and fulfilling—welcoming what was to be the longest day of my life.

  “Salvatore,” I moaned as the air surrounding him wafted with a clean sandalwood scent. “What time is it?”

  “It’s early…like six.” I bit my lip and smiled at the rock on my finger. He was my husband. My husband was making love to me. My husband was having his way with me. And he was greedy with bold strides, giving every bit of himself to me. “I love you so fucking much, Iris.”

  “I love you too, baby.”

  “If something ever happens, promise to haunt me. And I will do the same.” I giggled, but he was quite serious. “Fuck me with your ghost.”

  “How about we just keep breathing until we’re old and gray in our rocking chairs on the front porch with great-grandkids running all over the place?”

  He smiled, and I reached back, grazing my hand over his rippled stomach and skimming up over the undulations in his chest from the very breath I never wanted to stop…I never wanted us to end…I needed to believe that we could last forever.

  “And?”

  I laughed, covering my face, “And we’ll be eternal.”

  “And I will deliver.”

  I lose all sense of decency under the hands of these men. Giacomo briefly laughs, loosening his grip as I stab Alessi in the eye with one of my talons. He is too fast, closing his eyelid before I can harm. I feel great remorse as a woman and a mother that I failed to gouge his fucking eye out.

  One by one, he snaps my new nails, pulling and ripping and shredding them away. I scream like a little girl, the one I cannot imagine raising. What kind of fighter am I? Why is this happening to me? And forgive me if I dare ask, why the fuck now? Yes, it fucking matters! I am not one but two. Take me, not her. Don’t rape my daughter; don’t taint her sins to be bloody before she is born.

  His hands are remorseless.

  Without regret, Sal delivers me.

  The back of his hand impacts my cheek, and his gold nugget ring hits my tooth, breaking it off. The tears start as the struggle begins.

  “Please, just don’t hurt my baby.”

  His hands are reckless.

  Without caring about the consequences of his actions, Sal delivers me.

  “Bitch, that’s all we came for,” Alessi admits, grabbing my hands. “To kill your fucking kid.”

  I drop my phone on the floorboard.

  And I wail like a siren over something so…trivial.

  I thrash, rolling with all that I have, but Giacomo pins my hands down as the violence heightens, and the assault continues. “Do you want to know why we are here?”

  “Yes,” I spit in his face. Fuck the prurient bullshit. Fuck the woman they think I should be. I am a fighter. “Tell me, so I know who I am sending my husband to fucking kill.”

  His slaps sting, burning my skin, as he shows no pity or remorse for his acts. My pretty enamel fractures, and I feel them shattering one by one as the flood floats skeletons in a sanguine sea.

  I will die tonight.

  His hands are pitiless.

  With cruelty in his mayhem, Sal delivers me.

  “It happened years ago…Cruz and you…Enzo couldn’t get it right when he attacked The Dollhouse.”

  “Leave Cruz alone!” I shriek with ferocity, fighting. They cross the line, and I hand over the war. “You will not touch Cruz!”

  Not my Saint.

  His hands are ruthless.

  Without compassion for our attackers, Sal delivers me.

  “We were hired to hurt you for Krystal Campanelli’s death!”

  I killed a future Queen.

  “Fuck you!” I struggle, regaining strength and wobbling on the seat as his impactful blows permeate through my entire
being. His fist jams into my nose, clouding my vision and blurring his face.

  He shreds my dress with his hands. His grubby hand’s paw at my breasts and the sharp burn of his teeth offers—no endorphin-loaded pleasurable high—but a radiating pain like that of a searing torch, scalding my flesh from the muscle.

  Raiders branding my soul.

  “Oh pregnant girl likes that!”

  “You will not hurt my Deacon…” His fist knocks into my jaw before dropping his hands around my neck and choking me. I gasp, wrestling against the stronghold of Giacomo. I am in their house—a plaything for their amusement.

  His hands are merciless.

  Without pity, Sal delivers me.

  “Don’t kill her, man,” Giacomo rallies. “I need my turn at her hot Lotus snatch.”

  He releases his grip, and I breathe, trying to steady myself and praying I don’t hyperventilate.

  I must remember this.

  All of this—every fucking minute—where I died in the backseat without the man I love.

  “May you find peace and unconditional love with the light of God surrounding your abundantly dark lives. I pray for you.”

  “Please don’t hurt my baby,” I beg, woefully as I fade in and out of consciousness. “I don’t care what you do to me. Please don’t kill Ariella.”

  Hold on, Mommy.

  Hold on. Don’t let go.

  His hands are relentless.

  With oppressive and incessant violence, Sal delivers me.

  The Master

  “Where is my fucking wife?” I blast in command. “Let’s do it!”

  “One more time,” Mierne rallies, erasing half of the board as we go over it again. “Go!”

  “I first checked my watch at 1:06 PM at the Swamp Shack.”

  “And you arrived at?”

  “It had to be around two because I got distracted with time-stealer,” I recount as she furrows her brow. “Mae. We have the first report of Dom’s accident when…”

  “First call-in was at 3:06 PM. But you looked at your watch again right before three when we got word of Ronnie telling us ambulances were dispatched to Dom’s house at 2:41 PM.”

  “He killed Megan.”

  “And then Amber hit him,” Cruz adds from the sofa.

  “We have no idea how long he tortured Megan.”

  “Dom arrived at the Methodist church for Madeline Grace’s funeral at 9 AM, according to Quinn,” Cruz adds.

  Georgia mutters, “And Megan left the hospital at 8:30.”

  “Nicky tortured her for hours!” I uncontrollably roar. “What are we going to fucking do?”

  “He came here, cut your hand, and then he hit Dom.”

  “Boys!” Georgia shouts from behind her desk. “Ronnie messaged, she was scanning over the 911 calls, and Iris’ number called from the scene or close to the scene of Dom’s wreck at 3:04, but she hung up. And there has been no answer since.”

  “She saw it happen,” I hasten. “We have to find her fucking phone.”

  “Whoever took Iris passed by there.”

  “Fuck, they could be anywhere!” I yell, knowing I am way too close to this to think straight. “If she called, she didn’t go to Japan.”

  “Right,” Mierne says. “But where the hell is she?”

  “Someone still has my fucking wife!” I bark, not caring if I bite. I crouch down, needing the ground. I howl and pull my hair. “IRIS!”

  Georgia asks. “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah. No. I mean, he is, but the love of his life is missing.” Cruz lays his hand on my shoulder. “Do you have your phone?”

  “Ya,” I say, pulling it out of my pocket. “Shit! She left a voice message on my phone.” I press play as the sound of her voice knocks me to my ass, and I wallow, listening to it.

  “Hi baby, I am stuck at the airport. When you get this, can you call me and come and get me? The weather is getting awful, and Sofu kicked me off the plane. I love you so much. And so does Ariella.”

  “Shit,” Georgia whispers, tearing up and pecking away with determination. We are all riding the waves—low and high—breathing when we can and showing as much compassion as possible. “We must find her because there is no not finding her.”

  “God!” I croak in tears. “Where are you, Iris?”

  Cruz squats down low. “We will find her; I promise you that. And when we do, I will make sure whoever the fuck did this pays the reaper for a very long time.”

  I wipe my slobber and snot on my sleeve. “I’ve been so good about not breaking down.”

  “Your wife and baby girl are missing,” Cruz consoles. “This doesn’t make you any less of a man. This makes you a fucking human, which is something I will not be for very much longer.”

  “Guys, I hate to interrupt this very intense moment, but,” Georgia steadily says. “If Iris saw the wreck, she is not only—not headed to Japan, but Nicky doesn’t have her…”

  “Nicky doesn’t scare me,” I remark, sounding nasal from crying. “That’s why I walked out to see him and did something stupid. I know Nicky’s profile like the back of my fucking hand—ironically enough,” I snicker, shaking my head again at my foolish faux pas. “Now, I’ll have a scar to remember that by.”

  “Scars are sexy,” Georgia smirks.

  Cruz growls, “There are much worse monsters than the cirque son.”

  “My fear is what I don’t know,” I whisper my confession. “The unknown terrifies the fuck outta me.”

  “Shit!” Georgia bellows, bouncing in her chair. “Ronnie messaged again, Sarah Olsman just reported seeing my car.”

  “We just dropped security on her yesterday.” Cruz shakes his head. “And what the fuck is he doing out near Godland?”

  “I am the one who told you to do it,” I remark. “He’s going after his sister next.”

  “Negative. His sister isn’t in Godland,” Cruz slyly replies, shifting a sketchy I-know-something-but-I-am-not-telling-you-in-here gaze to me. “I’m going to smoke.”

  I follow suit…or in his case, I follow cut. “I’m joining you.”

  “Did Cruz just admit to killing Jaid?” I overhear Georgia whisper to Mierne.

  The Brit declares, “Good riddance!”

  109

  Punish

  The Master

  The dreary night sky is fading to black with only a hint of moonlight peeking through the clouds. “It’s a strange day.”

  “In what regard?” Cruz exhales, handing a lit smoke to me outside of Mierne’s house. “The fact that we’ve been going nonstop since before dawn?”

  “No,” I say. “All the bad shit happened during broad fucking daylight.”

  He flicks his brows high and repeatedly splashes the toe of his sneaker in a puddle. “It is weird. Where is your head at?”

  “Right now, I think we’re dealing with three different things because I cannot consider it any other way.”

  He takes a long drag on his cigarette and asks, “What do you mean?”

  “Nicky is a case. Kate is a case. Iris is a case.”

  “… Unconnected?” he questions, surprised, and I nod once. “Have you talked to Kate?”

  “Ya, I spent almost an hour on the phone, and I don’t know that she has anything to do with any of it.”

  “What does Dev say?”

  “Neither of them knew Kate was Anna’s daughter until today,” I inform. “So who knew that?”

  “You’re not going to like what I have to say.”

  “I’ve already thought it,” I admit, sighing. “Iris. She’s in tight with all the girls. Does she have any female enemies?”

  “One,” he suggests. “And she is locked in a cage under your cellar door.”

  “Jaid showed up?”

  She has one, but it’s not Jaid.

  “Yep, gave me full custody of a kid I have never even seen,” he says, staring at the sky. “What do we do with Iris if she did it all?”

  I don’t move as my eyes dart to his face. �
�Well, she’s damn sure getting a spanking after Ariella is born.”

  He laughs. “She’s going to be okay.”

  “I’ve got everything crossed that she somehow fucking left me, following her normal pattern,” I admit the darkest thoughts. “I would rather have her happy with someone else than…”

  “Don’t go there,” he demands. “But what if she didn’t leave?”

  “Then you have KOS orders on whoever hurt her,” I reply, cold-hearted. “Don’t ask questions. Just do your thing.”

  “You are unleashing your hellhound.”

  “I am,” I confirm with no remorse. “Kill, Cruz.”

  “So what now?” he asks. “Do we just wait?”

  “I am still not buying that Jaid would play Kate like this.”

  “Madeline’s dead,” he says, learning how we brainstorm. “So many dead. So many funerals.”

  “I don’t think Madeline did it either,” I mumble with a shrug. “This is like heavy construction. Jaid isn’t an architect; she is an interpreter. Give her the data, and she’ll spit it back out with a solution.”

  “So let’s ask her,” he suggests. “Ask the interpreter to interpret this data on your wife.”

  “And leave Georgia and Mierne here alone?”

  “You cannot babysit everyone you care about forever,” he says as I shake my head at his funny-looking man bun. His hair is ridiculously long, a couple of inches past his shoulders. “You have a baby coming.”

  Laying my hand on his arm, I ask, “I don’t know that in a week, I am not going to be burying my wife and daughter.”

  “You’re not going to,” he suggests, handing the keys for the bike to me. “You go, and I’ll stay. Be fucking careful.”