Callum’s Hell

by Mason, V. F.

  Fucking jerk thinking he won.

  The only thought stopping me in the whole compliant act: I can’t raise his suspicions. Who knows what he will do?

  “Miss Walker, the plane hasn’t stopped moving yet,” the stewardess says, and I open my mouth to reply when a strong hand wraps around my wrist and tugs me back.

  With a yelp, I end up on Callum’s knees, my legs thrown over his as his possessive grip on my thigh locks me in the embrace. “Let go of me,” I hiss through my teeth, slapping his chest while our lips are a breath apart.

  Slowly, so freaking slowly, he glides his hand up from my hip to my waist, and then it travels up again to my nape. He squeezes it, bringing us even closer, and I feel his heart under my palm beating faster. “The news of our engagement is out, my love,” he whispers, and I groan inwardly, because he decided to take this charade public.

  I’ll never get out from under scrutiny again, but then I should have expected that. Didn’t he say he wanted his family to pay for something?

  He has to go public with it.

  “So what?” I reply, still pushing him away, and I twist my knuckles on his collarbone, hoping the sting will loosen his arms, but he only chuckles.

  “So the media will be hunting everyone and their mother to check if it’s true.” He nips my chin and fists my hair when I try to pull away. Then he slides his lips to the corner of my mouth. “There should be no loose ends for them to find.”

  My brows furrow, but then it dawns on me that we have company in the plane that might talk to the press. It’s his private jet, but then you can’t prove much if the leak comes from an anonymous source.

  I glance over my shoulder and see the stewardess watching us, her cheeks flushing, and when she notices my stare on her, she averts her eyes, fumbling with her thumbs.

  Callum’s finger tips my chin and turns it back to him, giving me a slight peck, and shivers rushes through me.

  Of pleasure?

  Shaking my head, I almost laugh at this thought.

  Disgust.

  That’s the only emotion I have for him.

  “If you hadn’t ventured into my study, the trip back home would have been different,” Callum murmurs against my lips. His thumb slides to my cheek and caresses it lightly as he bumps his knees, propping my breasts higher. He skims his lips over my neck while breathing in my scent. “I’d have taken you to the back room and fucked you for hours, drowning us both in the passion and desire that consumes us.” My breath hitches when his tongue peeks out and licks my skin, leaving burning sensations all over me. “I’d have started by placing you on the bed and hiking this ridiculous dress.” His nails claw at my back as his lips skim to my collarbone, and then he bites on the flesh, and I arch my back instinctively. “I’d have slid your panties to the side, throwing your thighs over my shoulders, and eaten you out so good you’d have been hoarse from screams of pleasure.”

  The minute he says it, the image flashes in my head, and even though I hate it, desire slams into me, electrifying me from my hair to the tip of my toes.

  “Then I’d have traveled up, up, up, licking all the silky skin on the way before I reached your breasts.” He cups them, lightly trailing his thumb over the mounds before bringing his lips back to my mouth. “I’d have sucked on those rose nipples so hard, lavishing them with the attention they have been lacking all these years without me.”

  A betraying moan slips past my lips, and his mouth curves in a smile. He presses his thumb on my chin, and I open it under his assault when he leans closer, sharing my breath with me. “And then I’d have fucked you so hard in the fucking air you’d have no doubt who you belong to.” He growls the last part and connects our mouths, dipping his tongue inside and seeking mine, then entwining them in a kiss so deep and strong I don’t know where I end and he begins.

  He is harsh in his approach, almost punishing, as if he wants to remind me that I can’t live without him, even if I try.

  He consumes me with this kiss. His arms shelter me from the outside world, creating a reality where, for a second, no one but us exists, an illusion in which he loves me and stakes his claim with his kisses time and time again.

  The whimper builds up in my throat, desperate to escape, and I shift a little, wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling us closer, although there is no closer to be had. He eliminated any distance we might have had.

  There is nothing gentle about his touch, yet such warmth spreads through me, surrounding me with him, and the only sense of safety I’ve known.

  Safety he destroyed with his true identity.

  The truth knocks me again and freezes me in his arms just as someone clears their throat.

  I tear my mouth away from his as we both breathe heavily and see a stewardess pointing at the open door. “You may leave now.” She still has her eyes downcast, and it’s all the reminder I need.

  I jump from his arms, and surprisingly he lets me, while wild emotions rush through me, each one uglier than the last.

  Is that all it takes to destroy my resolve and blind me to the crimes he commits? One single touch, and I become a female without a sense of dignity, ready to forgive everything?

  “Don’t,” he orders, gets up, and grabs the folder he had been reading from the table. “Don’t feel guilty about it.”

  “Another order I should listen to?” I ask, snatching my bag and darting toward the door, mustering a smile for the stewardess. “Thank you for a great flight.” She nods, and I go down the stairs, my shoes clicking against them while the harsh wind hits me in the face, blowing my hair back.

  My brows furrow when I notice two cars waiting for us with drivers holding the doors open, nodding in my direction.

  I stop on the last step, not sure what to do. Callum joins me shortly, and says, “Henderson will take you wherever you want.”

  “You’re letting me go?” I ask with disbelief lacing my tone, because shocked doesn’t even start to describe what I feel. I was so sure he’d drag me to his penthouse, demanding I play house with him till the wedding.

  After all, I know the truth about him. Shouldn’t he rage and demand… and I don’t know… cage me inside his basement for fuck’s sake?

  Why doesn’t he act like a serial killer? Why doesn’t he give me more reasons to hate him, to consider him a scumbag of this world?

  He sighs, putting on his black sunglasses, hiding his expressive eyes from me. “You are not a prisoner. I think I need to repeat it thousands of times for you to get it.” He salutes another driver. “Jack, nice to see you.” He looks at me again, raising his brow. “I’ll call you, my wild orchid. I have some wedding preparations to arrange.” He waits a bit, and then says, “Unless you want to participate?”

  Huffing, I reply, “I’m not participating in your game.” Rushing toward the car, I hop inside before he can add anything else.

  My lips still burn from the kiss we shared, while my body trembles with rage from all that’s happened and the forced wedding I have to endure for the sake of his twisted game.

  I can’t control my body that reacts to his presence. He has trained it to be addicted to him during the last month we’ve been together.

  But my mind, my morals, my common sense?

  Only I have control over them, and they will help me escape Callum’s hell.

  Even if everything in me protests.

  My heart, body, and mind are at a crossroads…

  Yet only one truth matters.

  Evil deeds have no justification, no matter the circumstances.

  Callum can keep his truth to himself; it doesn’t matter anymore.

  I will destroy him either way.

  Callum

  Resting my head against the seat as Jack pulls the car away from the airport, I think about Giselle’s facial expression. Did she think I’d order her around and chain her to the bed?

  My dick hardens at the idea, and I push it back for later, wanting to explore her body while metal chains surround her
, leaving her with no chance of escape. But only when she accepts my darkness and becomes mine without reservation.

  She belongs to me, but she resists.

  The taste of her mouth, the scent of her skin, the whimpers… all this only intensifies my desire to own her in every way possible.

  Legally, sexually, emotionally.

  No one will ever take away my wild orchid from me, not if they want to live, that is.

  But to start a life together, first I must take care of the past. Putting it to rest once and for all.

  I press a number on my phone and wait for the person to pick up, my heart turning cold while barely controlled rage boils my blood. Yet when he answers, my voice stays calm and firm.

  “Hello?” he sounds raspy, as if he just woke up, and I wish it were the truth. Bringing him any kind of discomfort satisfies me.

  “Mr. Darius Desmond, I’d like to invite you to the wedding.” I always thought the first words I’d speak directly to him would be different. But when you want to win a chess game? You learn to be patient and calculative.

  After all, the winner takes it all, and the loser burns in hell.

  Giselle

  Twisting the key in the door lock, I step inside and freeze when a loud squeal greets me. “The bride-to-be is here!” Isla slams into me, almost knocking me on my ass and wraps her arms around me like an octopus, cutting off my air supply. “Congrats, babe!” She rocks us from side to side. “Didn’t expect to see you here today.”

  “Can’t breathe,” I rasp, and she steps back, clasping her hands.

  “And you look ravished.” She traces the circles under my eyes, wiggling her brows. “Someone had sleepless nights on the island, huh?”

  Oh, I did, all right.

  Then she frowns and crosses her arms, tapping her foot. “And since we are on the subject, why do I find out about your engagement through social media?”

  “I—I—Well—” To my horror, tears form in my eyes and cascade down my cheeks, and Isla’s eyes widen at that. “I’m sorry,” I hiccup. The actions of the past few days catch up with me and small sobs start to shake my body.

  “Shh, girl. Come here.” She drags me to the couch and pushes on my shoulder, so I drop, exhaling heavily while the stupid tears continue to fall. “What the hell is going on?”

  I close my eyes, wanting to tell her everything, because seeing her joy at the marriage that is nothing but blackmail kills me. Isla is one of the few people who stuck with me through everything and never betrayed me.

  She was always on my side, my best friend, and to see her happy for me when I’m a liar… it just adds to all the other shit in my life.

  “I’m sorry. I’m overwhelmed,” I finally say, clearing my throat. “Everything happened so soon, and now—”

  “It’s because of that article, isn’t it? Don’t listen to those people.” I frown and snatch a tissue from the table, blowing my nose into it. “They are stupid to assume anything about your relationship.” I chuckle, and the tissue hides the bitter sound of it, because someone’s opinion on my wedding is the least of my worries.

  Let people talk; they’ll have more to say when I expose Callum for his crimes. Then I’ll be deemed a stupid female who lived with him and didn’t see the signs.

  Society usually blames those close to monsters for their crimes.

  “Yeah, it’s because of that,” I lie, and Isla pats me on my knee, lifting her head to make me look into her eyes since she is kneeling in front of me. “I, for one, think it’s great.” A pause, and then, “As long as that’s what you want.” There is a weird note about her question, but I choose to ignore it.

  “It is.”

  Her gaze clears, and a smile comes back while she winks. “Show me the ring.”

  Oh my God.

  The ring!

  “Callum is having it resized.” Another lie, but freaking hell! What else explains a proposal without a ring for a guy like Callum?

  “Well too bad. I wanted to see it.” She gets up, going to the fridge. “Let’s celebrate!”

  Only after those cheery words, her mood and behavior register in my hazy mind, the weirdness of it all.

  Isla is not a cheery person, and she’d be the last to congratulate me on the marriage. I expected thousands of questions and then lectures that I shouldn’t rush into anything.

  What gives?

  I lean for another tissue and pause when several scattered boxes come into view, along with an empty bookshelf in the right corner.

  Then I look around the room, taking it in that most of the stuff is packed!

  “What’s going on?” I ask, and Isla stills with her hands midair to the cupboard to grab glasses for the wine, and she exhales heavily but still stays silent. “Are you moving?”

  “Well—”

  “Straight answer,” I demand, getting up and crossing my arms. But by the way she shrugs and guilt crosses her face, while she nips on her thumb, I already have my answer. “You are moving.”

  “I can explain.”

  “By all means do.”

  She puffs air, her hair flying on her forehead before she motions to the stool by the kitchen counter. “Can we do that with a glass of wine?”

  “Wine is not gonna make me less angry,” I warn but do what she asks, and she opens the bottle, popping it soundly.

  She pours it into glasses, slides one to me, and clicks mine against hers, even though I’m still giving her the death glare. Isla gulps a large sip, and I can’t take it anymore. “Just spill it already.”

  “I’m moving to Chicago.”

  Say what now? “Chicago?”

  “I got relocated there.” She circles the rim of the glass with her finger.

  “Why?” And can they do that? Why would a police officer be transferred to another state?

  She avoids my gaze, still focused on the rim, and the fucking glass starts to give off those annoying sounds.

  Placing my hand over hers, I squeeze until she raises her troubled eyes to me. “Why? Tell me.”

  “I got a lead,” she whispers, and my heart stops. “He showed up again.”

  “No.”

  “Another chapel, a wedding, and a family has been destroyed because of him.” She says all this mechanically, with almost no emotion, as if in a trance. “He has been in hiding for ten years, but he showed up now. He is still alive!” she shouts, banging on the counter, and I jump up, quickly rushing to her and hugging her in my arms.

  “It’s okay, Isla.”

  She breathes heavily and continues more calmly, “I have to go there to find him.”

  I want to scream it’s dangerous and stupid, but I know it won’t be any use.

  “But how will they allow you to do that?” She can’t handle this case if she is personally involved in it.

  “No one knows. I just submitted my application and got accepted. I have to be in Chicago.”

  “Of course.” She tenses in my arms, and I step back, knowing full well that her vulnerable minute is over.

  And as such, the topic of her family is off the table.

  I’m reaching for the glass when I stumble a little and knock her files from the counter, and sending them scattering around the floor.

  Several photos fall out of men lying broken on the ground, their bodies bearing multiple wounds, and a gasp slips past my lips.

  “Shit, I’m sorry you saw these.”

  That’s not what has me shocked though.

  I’ve seen those men before on Callum’s wall.

  Why does Isla have a file on them? “What’s this?”

  She sighs, putting everything back inside the folder. “My college friend wanted input on the case.”

  “Case?”

  “Oh, what the hell,” she mutters and slaps it on the counter. “They have this serial killer that goes by the name of Hades.” I sway to the side a little and drop back on the seat, but Isla is too preoccupied with wine to notice it. “They can’t catch him, and now…”
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  “Now?”

  “Okay, just don’t get scared, okay? He’s killed several people in New York. We just wonder if it’s him or a copycat.”

  “Copycat?”

  “Yeah, someone who admires his work and does the same,” she explains and drums on the table. “But based on the information I’ve got, it’s him. Which is weird, because it’s against his signature.”

  Isla talks more about it while I’m trying to digest this information.

  He is famous for what he does, and yet he still hasn’t been caught?

  Once we’re done with our “celebration,” I bullshit Isla that I need rest and lock myself in her guest room, searching everything there is on the web about Hades.

  The police search for him.

  Which means all I need is evidence to put him behind bars. I will find it before the wedding and end this madness once and for all.

  Even if I break my heart in the process.

  Chapter Twenty

  Callum, 15 years old

  Breathing heavily, I burrow into the winter coat I stole from the store and continue to power through the snow, while Lina, my dog, barks loudly. “I know. I shouldn’t have stolen it,” I tell her, and she barks again, jumping in the snow and motioning with her head to follow her. “But fuck, Lina, it’s fucking cold.” How else is a guy supposed to survive on the streets during a cold Texas winter?

  My knees wobble under me, and I fall into the snow, cursing. “I should have known it’s deep.” Fuck, but why is no one cleaning away snow around these ranches?

  Lina runs behind me, pushing her head under my arm as if trying to help, and I steady myself, patting her head. “Good girl. I promise next time I will bring you some food.” Although God only knows when that will happen. Right now, we need to find a barn to lie low in for a few days before we can venture into the small town again.

  After we escaped from Edward’s clutches, we abandoned the car miles away on the side of the road after Santiago almost killed us by slamming into a tree.

  A train was slowly passing by with sand and shit, so we managed to hop on it without anyone noticing. Since we were never friends anyway, we agreed to separate and go our own ways, so it would be harder for them to catch us.