by Mason, V. F.
We decided I would hop off the train first, then Santiago, and then Artem. I ended up in almighty Texas, and who the fuck knew where they went?
Life on the streets has been difficult but better than at Edward’s. I’ve slept between buildings or near a fire barrel with other homeless guys, and eaten food from dumpsters or charity places.
Rumors spread fast though, and soon some pimps showed up, offering me jobs because of my beauty or what-the-fuck-ever. I agreed to meet them at a place, since they had guns pointed at me, but managed to escape, deciding to go to some small town away from Houston with the money I stole from a woman’s wallet.
Morals simply didn’t exist for me anymore.
Which brings me to now and the fucked-up situation I ended up in.
My stomach growls, and I place my hand on it, wincing. “I could use some food myself.” Lina barks but then hunches low, her ears pointed.
I follow her gaze and see a man in the distance holding a rifle, pointing it right at me. I can’t make out his face or anything, since he’s covered in winter wear from head to toe.
“Well fuck,” I mutter and step before Lina, not wanting him to shoot her.
I’ve always thought I’m a fighter, but even a fighter knows when to fucking give up. Running away is not an option, but then maybe dying is better than prison?
I won’t survive being anyone’s bitch again. So with that thought in mind, I whisper to Lina. “Don’t do anything, girl. See you.” She perks up, and I turn around, bowling through the snow again, allowing the fear to wash away.
After all, death always has skirted around me; it was just a question of when it would finally catch up with me.
The gunshot echoes in the night as the bullet hits me, and I drop in the snow with a loud cry.
Then another bullet, and I face-plant into the snow this time, the cold sinking into my body.
Slowly, I feel the pain travel all over me, enveloping my senses and oddly washing away all other emotions.
Like regret.
And sleep comes unexpectedly, lullabying me with the strong wind and nature that has no mercy for me.
Like no one else has.
My eyes finally close and life is over.
There was a boy named Callum… who knew nothing but sorrow.
* * *
“What the hell are you doing, boy?” The exasperated tone penetrates my mind as my eyes twitch, but I can’t open them, no matter how much I try.
Another voice, this one younger it seems, snorts. “I’m not a boy, Luke.” I hear some shuffling, and then he huffs, “He was trespassing.”
“So you shot him?”
Yeah, I’m ready to agree with the older guy here.
The beeping sound of the machine snaps my attention, and the air stills inside my lungs when piercing pain digs into my arm and leg. “Because he was running away, even though he could barely stand.” My eyelids finally lift to see only two men, one guy who is probably older than me, since he has a muscled body and perfectly ironed clothes, and another older guy, probably in his late forties.
The younger one points his finger at me, both still not noticing I’m awake. “I saved his life. He should be thanking me.”
“You shot him!” the older one yells, his mustache moving funnily.
The young guy rolls his eyes, tugging on the collar of his shirt. “In the leg and arm, he’ll survive. I think he’s the shoplifter, by the way.”
Then they both freeze and turn their attention to me, and I blink at their intense stares. Why do I always have to end up with questionable men around me? Do I have some kind of magnet for all the assholes in the world, and it’s tattooed on my forehead?
Perfect toy, keep it?
I want to scream at the injustice, but instead, the sound is locked away in my throat, as I assess my new nightmare.
“See? Alive and well,” the young guy mutters, while I glance down to see bandages around my arm and shoulder and my right leg.
But I don’t give a shit about that. Lina is what is important here. “My dog?” I rasp through my dry throat, and the older guy quickly grabs a glass with a straw and presses it inside my mouth.
I sip a little, welcoming the cold liquid spreading inside me, and I clear my throat. “Lina, is she all right?”
The old guy’s brows rise, and something flashes in them before he walks to the door and opens it wide. Lina runs inside, jumping to my side and wagging her tail.
“Hey, girl.” She barks and then whimpers, nuzzling my leg, and I wince a little from the pain. “It’s okay. I’m all good.” She whimpers again and rests her muzzle beside my hand, sighing heavily.
She is the only one in my life who truly cares about my well-being.
Then I twist my head on the pillow, still a little bit dizzy from my wounds, and ask, “What are the rules?” Maybe I should act all clueless and shit, but I don’t want to.
I prefer to know what I’m dealing with and adjust to it before I get better and hightail out of this hell.
“Rules?” The older guy frowns, and I nod.
“Yeah, I’m the toy, and I want the know the rules.”
They stay silent for a second and then exchange looks, while I blink in surprise when fury clouds their eyes.
What? They refer to their fuck boys as something else?
“There are no fucking rules here,” the young guy says, grabs the footboard of the bed, and leans forward. “You are in my house and in my territory.” Shouldn’t the older guy be saying this to me? “You will tell me what happened to you.”
I control the desire to laugh in his face. “So you can kill me, or give me to the police?” Since he isn’t into raping and shit, what other options are there? “I vote for the killing.”
Instead of responding to my sarcasm, he comes closer and hits me on my head, and I groan loudly while the older man curses. “For fuck’s sake, kid.”
The guy though zeroes his focus on me. “You will learn to respect us if you want to live.” He bends forward so that our eyes are on the same level. “Live and not just survive.”
I don’t know it yet, but I’ve just met a serial killer who is searched for all over the country.
A serial killer who changes my life forever.
Giselle
Resting my head against the window, I watch the changing scenery of the city as the car navigates through the busy roads, the engine moving the car flawlessly.
I long to roll down the window and let the light breeze slip inside instead of the AC blowing on me, but I don’t want to do anything that might engage me in a discussion with the man next to me.
“You look gorgeous.” Even though I’m facing away from him, I sense his gaze sweeping me from head to toe. “This dress showcases your beauty perfectly.”
He should know; after all, he sent it to my house and demanded I wear it for our trip.
I hold back the snarky reply and the desire to rip it off and throw it in his face.
“Where are we going?” Ignoring his statement, I get to the point, needing to know where he’s taking me.
In the last five days, he’s been the bane of my existence. He alerted the press and every journalist, it seems, about our engagement, because the city—or should I say the elite—are buzzing with the event, everyone wanting to get an invite. I get hundreds of calls daily, along with messages and gift baskets from people hoping to attend the event. I send them all to Callum’s address, because I have no clue who he invited.
This wedding holds no interest for me. Instead, I focus my time on researching Callum’s crimes, studying old articles, and writing down his MO. Also, I’ve tried to dig into his past to find the source of his trauma but have come up blank.
But everyone says that serial killers keep trophies for themselves as a token from the kill. Surely it means he keeps something in his penthouse as a memory of those he killed in New York. I need to get to his house, but I can’t show an interest, so I’m happy he invited me today to w
hatever he has planned.
Isla has promised to stay for the wedding and laughed that my groom was so eager. She’d probably shoot him if she knew the truth.
“Don’t like surprises?” Callum’s voice brings me back to the present, and I finally tear my gaze away from the view and turn my attention to him, squashing the impact of his handsomeness on me.
Why do jeans and a leather jacket look so freaking good on this man?
He even managed to put his hair in a man bun, while his overpowering presence commands the space as usual. “Depends on who surprises me. Your surprises tend to scare and scar me.”
He chuckles at my reply, finding it hilarious it seems. But then everything is hilarious to him.
Even killing people.
“I think you will like this one.”
“Don’t hold your brea—” The words stick in my throat when we enter the airport, driving straight to Callum’s private jet. “Where are you taking me?” I snap, fury blazing that he decided to take me away again. Is he planning to elope for this stupid wedding after he prepared the event of the year? Embarrassing us is part of his plan too?
“I don’t much care for your tone,” he says, and I raise my hand to slap the freaking smirk off his face, but he catches it and brings us closer.
“Let go of me.”
“You should listen before you act,” he whispers, “or I’ll take you to my dungeon and do dangerous things to you.” Before I can reply to that statement, he presses my palm open in his hold and fishes out a blue velvet box. “I think something is missing to complete the picture, don’t you?” He puts a stunning platinum ring on my finger. The stone is a bright oval-shaped sapphire and surrounded by tiny diamonds.
Then he lifts it to his mouth and places a soft kiss over it, and my eyes close.
Inwardly, I gasp at the beauty of it, as well as the size of the stone. It’s just enough to stand out on my finger, but subtle enough to look classy. But what really draws me to it is the shape. It’s so… me.
And for a second, I imagine what it would have been like to receive the ring without knowing the truth. There wouldn’t have been a happier woman on earth.
But now the ring is stained with his darkness and my pain, creating a symbol of captivity, chains wrapped around me by a monster.
Why did I find that room?
I don’t have a chance to reflect on those thoughts, when he announces, “The special guest has arrived.”
“Special guest?” I echo his words and follow his gaze just in time to see an older man emerging from the plane, leaning on his cane while he chats with the steward, who laughs at something he says.
“Grandpa?” I whisper and quickly get out of the car, the wind blowing harshly and plastering my dress against my legs.
I’m rushing toward the plane when Callum’s hand snatches me back, stopping me. “What are you doing?” I hiss as he leans closer, giving me a slight peck on the nose. Before I can twist away from his arms, he murmurs, putting on a big show for Grandpa and the crew, “Remember, darling, you are a happy bride. Keep the smile intact and give positive vibes.” He steps closer, and my breath hitches when his hands travel to my hair, angling my face for the soft kiss he dusts on my lips. “Don’t flinch away from me either.”
“Why? Because they’ll notice I hate you?” I ask, fascinated by the shift in his dark eyes when his mouth curves in a smile.
“Because I don’t like it.” He then pushes me forward, slapping me gently on the ass. “Greet your family, love.”
“I hate this wedding,” I throw over my shoulder and wave at Grandpa Darius while grinning wide.
If he wants a show, I will give him a freaking show!
Besides, I can act compliant. Grandpa is already here, so the only thing I have left to do is find evidence on Callum before taking it to the police. All that’s left to do is find a pretense to sneak inside his penthouse while he’s not there. He is so arrogant I’m sure he’s not hiding trophies behind locks and doors.
“Grandpa!” I jump up the stairs and reach him in record time.
He hugs me closer, squeezing me in his arms while the tip of his cane digs into my back. Breathing in his familiar scent of flowers and… Texas, I sigh heavily and burrow my face deeper in his chest.
“Flower girl.” He rubs my back and wants to lean back, but I tighten my hold on him. He laughs, kissing me on the head. “I missed you too.”
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Finally, I look up, giving him a bright yet such a fake smile; I wonder if he knows it. “I missed you too.”
He cups my cheek, clacking. “It should have been you who called me.”
“I know. I just—” Wracking my mind for excuses doesn’t help, because there aren’t any.
“Actually, I’m happy he called me. I approve,” he says before ushering us down. “Let’s go, kiddo, or I’m gonna embarrass myself in front of your future husband and fall down these stairs.”
Nudging him a little on the side, I mutter, “Not funny.” We head down the steps, while Callum waits for us broodingly, watching every moment like a hawk.
Finally, we reach him, and silence falls between us, the air filling with tension that unsettles even me.
Or maybe that’s just my nerves?
“Honey, introduce me to the man”—Grandpa taps me on my nose—“who managed to steal my girl’s heart.” The fake smile almost slips from my lips. Maybe because his statement hits home.
I can run away from the truth and throw insults Callum’s way, but the truth stays unchangeable.
I’m in love with him, and that love is not going anywhere.
But that love can never define me.
I drag him closer and notice Callum has put on his sunglasses, even though sunset is almost here. “Grandpa, this is my groom-to-be and the love of my life.” I stumble a little on these words, but find my footing quickly. “Callum MacRae.”
Grandpa extends his hand, ready to shake his, but Callum makes no move toward him. “Nice to meet you, son.” His hand hangs in the air between them, and Grandpa frowns a little, but then Callum finally shakes it firmly, dropping it quickly as if his skin is on fire.
“Thank you for coming,” he says calmly, and I shrug off the weird vibe I get from them both.
In the last week, panic and my vivid imagination have started to affect me, imagining things that are not there.
“How could I miss my flower girl’s wedding?” Grandpa coughs a little, and I pat his chest, but he wraps his hand around my shoulders. “She is the most precious thing in this world to me.” His eyes grow misty when he addresses Callum. “Take good care of my girl.”
“Oh, I will. Trust me on this.” The way his voice deepens tells me he means every word, but I can’t study his eyes.
What do you care anyway?
Grandpa shivers, and Callum must notice it, because he motions toward the car. “Let’s go to the dinner then.”
“Dinner?”
Confusion laces my tone, and Grandpa explains, “Yes, Alfred is hosting a dinner party tonight. All the family is there to celebrate your engagement.”
What?
I want to scream at Callum and question him on this one. Why do we even need a family dinner when the wedding is in two days?
But I have to put on an act in front of my grandfather, so I keep my mouth shut, all while sighing in relief he’s here.
This means when shit hits the fan and Callum makes a mistake, I won’t have to worry about my grandfather facing the consequences of his wrath.
If I only knew.
Callum
One of my friends, Shon, also Sociopath’s student, likes to say that patience is a virtue. I never had any, but now I do see the merit in his words. Indeed, bringing Giselle’s grandpa back to New York fills me with such satisfaction I’m ready to drink to that.
The game is about to end.
And the only piece left on the chessboard will be the queen, who I’ll take as my own.
Giselle
“How fascinating,” Grandpa says, and I roll my eyes discreetly, gluing my nose to the window.
That was his reaction pretty much to everything Callum has said since the car ride started. Be it his fancy days in Houston or his botanic company, Grandpa seems to think Callum is perfect.
“And you have the rarest of plants, yes?”
I wish to cover my ears from all this nonsense, along with the stupid dinner. How did Callum arrange that anyway? Last message I got from Grandfather Walker was one of rage that I destroyed this family’s reputation with each antic, and I better not send him an invitation, because he isn’t gonna show.
Now, all of a sudden, he not only participates, but also hosts the dinner party?
Consider me fucking surprised!
And everyone will be there, to add to that. Which means facing the always-relaxed Martina, my spoiled sister, and her cheating douchebag of a husband.
My ex-fiancé.
“Giselle.” Grandpa shakes my elbow, and I shift my attention to him, blinking in confusion.
They both look at me expectantly, and I clear my throat. “Sorry, what?”
Grandpa shakes his head. “Don’t worry.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s going to be all right. Walker will come around.”
My brows furrow, and he elaborates. “Callum told me about his stance on the wedding.”
“Did he?” At the rate Callum knows everything about me, I wouldn’t be surprised to find a surveillance camera in my bathroom!
“We’re here,” Callum says.
Shivers rush through me as I glance out the window to see the limo pulling up to the gates and guards opening them so the car can slide inside.
Somehow, tonight, the beauty I’ve created here is tarnished by the inevitable doom that awaits me with my family.
How is it possible that people who are supposed to be the closest to you hurt you the most?
The minute we stop at the entrance, the doorman opens the car door and bows a little. He helps Grandpa out, and I follow, exhaling heavily when the massive mansion comes into view.
