Callum’s Hell

by Mason, V. F.

  Not until I get all my answers.

  “The contract will be under my rules.”

  Santiago clacks his tongue. “I’m not sure you’re in a position to make demands, Callum.”

  Finally, I gather all my self-control and place an unreadable mask on my face, meeting his stare head-on. “If I were you, I wouldn’t antagonize me. I don’t play nice.”

  Something flashes in his eyes. Was the fucker testing me? And then he nods and gets up, saluting me. “Draw whatever contract you want; we will sign it. After it’s done, you’ll get the rest of the information.”

  He opens the door but my question halts his movements. “Do you know what happened to Artem?” If he found me, he must have done research on both of us.

  I can’t even explain why I’m asking this question. Like I said, we were never friends. Just three kids thrown into a nightmare together, who managed to escape.

  Santiago looks over his shoulder. “Yeah, his name is Arson now, and he doesn’t give a fuck about the past… just like you.” The way he says it, with a weird note lacing his tone, makes me think he wished we did.

  Why though?

  But before I can ask anything else, he disappears, leaving as swiftly as he came.

  And like all four dark horsemen do…

  He leaves chaos in his wake.

  Callum

  “We are here, sir,” Henderson says and snaps me away from my thoughts.

  Nodding, I open the door and throw over my shoulder, “You’re invited too. Park the car and come inside; enjoy the wedding.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  At least someone is excited about the wedding.

  I tilt my head back, scanning the high-as-fuck hotel.

  Yes, that will be one good high one to fall from and smash one’s brain on the ground.

  Having the wedding reception here was my plan from the very beginning.

  I stop in my tracks when I see four men standing in a circle, broodily watching passing people while silently communicating between each other, if the motion of their heads is anything to go by.

  When they notice me, they spin around to face me and wave like fucking idiots. “What are you doing here?”

  Octavius frowns, sighing dramatically. “Is this the way to greet your guests?”

  “I didn’t invite you,” I say, trying to understand what their game is.

  The Four Dark Horsemen don’t show up just for the fuck of it. There is always a secret agenda, and right now I’m in no mood to pay the price.

  Santiago shrugs. “Since you invited them—” He points behind his back, and my eyes widen when Lachlan and Arson come into view, strolling toward us. “—we voted on joining the fun as well.”

  “What the fuck is going on here?” I address Lachlan, who merely lifts a brow and replies, “Hello to you too.”

  “I didn’t invite any of you. Why did you show up?” We might run in the same circles and all, but I had no intention of having them here.

  They are formed groups and brotherhoods while I stayed away, alone. Never truly accepted by anyone so right now I couldn’t give two shits about them.

  “Jaxon couldn’t make it, so he apologizes,” Arson says.

  Florian, the broodiest of them all, states. “They’re fighting with Gael MacGregor over a woman.”

  “Love triangle,” Remi whistles, and they share a laugh.

  Yeah, right.

  “Why are you here?” I ask again, and by the tone of my voice, they know I’m serious. All amusement leaves their faces, and they remind me of the serial killers they are.

  Octavius simply says. “Callum, we are one twisted family.” Bullshit, there is something else but none of them wants to share.

  “Right. Was I family when you blew up my club?”

  Florian waves his hand. “We were just bored and wanted to see how it flamed up.”

  Like I said, these assholes are crazy.

  But before I can comment on the statement, the elevator door a few feet away from us opens and I see Isla emerging, wearing a long, orange dress. “Callum!” she greets me, quickly reaching my side, and presses a kiss to my cheek. “The bride is almost ready.”

  I hear a slight growl next me and decide to ignore Octavius.

  Where is his head anyway?

  A serial killer and a police officer relationship has disaster written all over it.

  “I just need to grab Giselle’s dress and then—” Her phone rings in her purse, and she takes it out, stepping away, and that’s when the Walker family walks in.

  Every single one of them, including Kevin.

  Martina and Lucy smile at us while Marvin and Alfred go past, straight to the sort of reception area where the buffet is, and a poker table is set up to pass time while waiting for the ceremony to start.

  “Callum, congratulations.” Martina pats my shoulder and I step away, detesting her touch. “I’m sure you’ll be a great husband to my daughter.”

  “Step-daughter.” From the corner of my eye, I glance at Lachlan who tenses, scanning Martina from head to toe, but he says nothing.

  Are his instincts telling him something?

  I don’t examine the emotion though, because Isla comes back, defeat written all over her face. “I’m sorry, Callum, a case came up. I have to go. I’ll do my best to be back.” Then she turns to Lucy. “Could you please go to Giselle and take her the dress?” It’s evident Isla hates having to ask, because based on reports, she hates Lucy.

  Lucy though jumps in excitement, nods, and listens to instructions about where to find it.

  All while I wonder why satisfaction from the most important day in my life doesn’t come.

  I’ll claim my Persephone and punish the one man who destroyed my life.

  But I can’t help but feel restless, as if I’m about to become a loser instead of a winner in this game of ours.

  Giselle

  The wind slips through the open window, blowing the white-as-snow curtains in different directions as the sound of the rain that started a few minutes ago, pelting the street and balcony, echoes in the night.

  Even Mother Nature cries with me today.

  I resume brushing my hair, again and again, while goose bumps slowly pop up on my skin and spread over my entire body as fear shakes me.

  But no matter how cold or afraid I am, I stay where I am, brushing my hair while the lapels of my silky robe rise a little under nature’s assault.

  My bare feet rub against each other while the red nails bring special attention to them.

  My smoky eyes and red lipstick emphasize my features, and the woman gazing at me in the mirror is beautiful.

  Even if sorrow and despair are reflected on her face.

  Someone knocks on the door, and then Lucy enters, gorgeous as always, and my brows lift.

  So, the family showed up after all; their radio silence for two days made me think they’d changed their minds.

  Not that it matters either way.

  Lucy squeals and shakes the dress bag in her hand. “Your wedding dress is here! Oh my God, you are so beautiful! And Isla had a call from work, some emergency. She promised to be back as soon as possible.” She places the dress on the bed, unzipping the bag, and a red-as-roses ballroom gown comes into view.

  She frowns, biting her lip, and then shifts her gaze to me. “Umm… is it supposed to be red, or did Frankie mix it up?”

  I shouldn’t be shocked Callum chose her design for his bride, nothing but the best for Hades, right?

  “I think so,” I whisper and put the hairbrush in the drawer. I dip the makeup brush in the powder and lightly rub my face as Lucy continues to gush about the reception happening downstairs.

  “This hotel is to die for, and oh my God, a honeymoon on the island! My God, you scored it big, sis!” She leans forward, whispering, “Not to mention how hot Callum is.”

  Uneasiness rushes through me at her last words, and the green-eyed monster I thought died when I uncovered the truth abo
ut her rears its ugly head and is ready to snap at Lucy at any moment. The anger I buried inside me months ago comes crashing back, like a wave ruining everything in its wake.

  Callum is not hers to admire or make comments about. He is mine!

  “You shouldn’t be concerned with my fiancé.” Steel laces my tone, and she pauses in the middle of unpacking my dress, tensing.

  “I didn’t mean it like—”

  “Like what? That you want to screw him or steal him like you did Kevin?” I ask sternly, applying one more layer of lipstick before running my fingers through my brown locks and splaying them evenly on my back. “I guess it’s too late for that, since we’re getting married in an hour.” Catching her stare in the mirror, I raise my brow. “Or do you want to try your luck?”

  She pales and her lips wobble while she darts her eyes all over the place before whispering, “It wasn’t like that. We fell in love. Why are you so cruel?”

  Hollow laughter slips past my lips, and I swirl on the chair, facing her. “Cruel? How ironic.” Tapping my chin with my fingers, I say, “You certainly didn’t care about my feelings when you cheated with Kevin.”

  “I thought—” That’s the thing though; Lucy never thinks unless it’s about her own selfish desires.

  For years, I’ve catered to their whims and limitations, and bit my tongue when they hurt me. Only because everyone reminded me day after day that I should be grateful for being a Walker.

  For them taking me in when they could have said no.

  But none of them, except Darius, really loved me or cherished me. After all, everyone needs a doormat, right? And that’s exactly what I’ve become to them.

  My grandfather used me in his revenge on his son, my father sold me to the highest bidder, and my sister, time and time again, betrayed me. No one suffered any consequences for their actions.

  My family never knew the meaning of the word family, so why should I be the good guy?

  It has brought me nothing but sorrow anyway. Ever like the doormat I am, I decided to see goodness in Callum and accept his darkness, giving him my love freely and without any reservations. Only for him to spit in my face, hurting me in the process.

  “You thought what? That I forgave you? I didn’t. So please leave the room and stay away from Callum.” I add the last part without much dwelling on it.

  Serial killer or not, the man is mine, and she better keep her betraying, greedy hands away from him.

  “You are blowing my little comment out of proportion and—”

  “Leave the room,” I order again, getting up, ready to change into the dress, but she has none of it.

  Her mouth opens to argue, when a deep voice behind her stops her. “You heard your sister. Leave her alone, Lucy, so she can get ready.” Her cheeks heat up when she looks at Callum, and hiding her eyes, she rushes out of the room. “How interesting,” he says, shutting the door.

  Ignoring him, I put on the sapphire earrings he brought last night with the demand that I wear them for the wedding. They dangle from my ears like the teardrops I can never show the world.

  How poetic and ironic.

  “Don’t worry; I won’t run away. Darius is too important to me to risk his health.” I straighten my spine, avoiding his gaze. “I need to get dressed. You can go back to the guests.” After that night, I went back to Isla, using the whole “bad luck waking up with the groom” excuse.

  I freeze when his hands wrap around me, pulling me flush against his chest, and instantly his scent and strength surround me. He digs his nose in the side of my neck, squeezing me tightly. I’m afraid to even breathe in his arms, loving it, and hating him for it.

  Because there is no love in them for me. “You are beautiful,” he whispers, and I close my eyes, letting those words wash over me and warm parts of me that have stayed frozen from his rejection.

  But reality slips back in, and I push from his arms, stepping away, and with my back still facing him, I reply, “I need to get dressed or I’ll be late. Please leave.”

  “A little more patience, Giselle.”

  “I told you, didn’t I?” My finger fumbles with the robe’s belt. “You lost your chance, and we are over.”

  “You will understand,” he promises, and I stay tense until I hear him walking away, the door closing cementing our distance.

  A girl’s wedding day is the most magical day of her life. Yet for me, it’s nothing but a nightmare.

  Shaking my head from self-pity, which has no place now, I slip out of the robe and put on the dress, allowing it to slide down my form.

  It’s a simple ball gown designed with a V back and a chiffon-mixed-with-lace skirt. It hugs me perfectly in front, emphasizing my breasts while the color adds vividness to my eyes.

  Picking up the blue pin Magnolia gave me earlier today before I disappeared into the bridal suite, I study the shape of it. Callum flew her from the island, and the woman was adamant to give me something blue and old. My resentment toward her vanished, and I took it not to hurt her feelings.

  I’m slipping into my heels while trying to adjust the pin in my hair when Martina barges inside, breathing heavily, her eyes wide, and I blink in shock. “Giselle, you need to come with me.”

  “What’s going on?” I pick up the skirt of the dress, facing her, and she whimpers, wiping away a tear. “Darius.”

  My heart stops and then pulses rapidly. “Grandpa?”

  “He’s had a stroke! Please, you need to hurry and come with me.”

  “Of course.” We run to the hallway, and I rush toward the elevator on the far end but she catches my elbow and drags me to another one. “Not this way, my dear. All the press is by the main door. We have an ambulance waiting by the back door.”

  “Oh, okay.” All the way there, thousands of thoughts rush through my mind, one uglier than the last, because my grandpa is everything.

  The only person who never lied to me.

  Finally, once I dash outside into the empty street behind the hotel with the rain still pouring, I see no ambulance and only a black van. “What’s—” I start to say, but then something hard hits me from behind, and instant pain assaults me, but my cry of pain is silenced when a cloth with a weird smell is pressed to my lips.

  Slowly, my body loses its strength, and everything goes blank.

  Sometimes, true monsters hide behind the most beautiful masks.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Callum, 27 years old

  “Sir, we’re here,” London says, parking the vehicle on the side of the road as I look through the window at the spacious ranch.

  The small, brick house has two floors and is surrounded by acres of land filled with cacti and a few horses. The riding ring itself is so small it’s a wonder their horses are still alive.

  But what is most striking is the vivid display of phalaenopsis orchids all over the house, porch, and swing. They cover the doors and furniture so gracefully that one might think they’re part of the original design.

  The green grass is perfectly cut, all in all showcasing a colorful scene in this dry part of Texas. One must be really skilled in botany and gardening to create this beauty here.

  Not that I give two shits about the owner’s ability with flowers.

  Nodding to London, I get out of the car and put on my sunglasses, ready to walk the few steps to the door and face the man I’ve been subconsciously searching for my whole life.

  I have only one question, and I want the answer now; maybe then the boy still residing in me somewhere deep down will find his peace.

  But before I can make a single step in the house’s direction, I see a woman strolling from the back of the barn, her rich laughter floating on the air and stirring something inside me.

  She is wearing a purple summer dress that flares around her legs in the light breeze. Her rich, dark locks cascade down her spine. On her head, she has a crown made out of flowers in the colors of the rainbow. Her porcelain skin just begs to be touched while her eyes sparkle un
der the sun.

  Look at me, describing her like a fucking poet.

  I’ve never seen a more mesmerizing woman in my entire existence, and considering I’ve fucked so hard and so much, according to the rumors spread, it’s saying something.

  But then she starts hopping and raises one barefooted leg up, inspecting it, and that’s when the door opens.

  Darius snaps me out of my haze with his stern tone. “Giselle,” he huffs in exasperation, “I told you to wear shoes.”

  The woman though adjusts the flowers on her head, shrugging. “You know I love to feel the softness of the grass under my toes.”

  I’ve wanted to meet the man for the last two years, but nothing has prepared me for the impact that’s slammed into me and almost knocked me on my ass. I wanted to come and ask—no, demand answers. And based on his answers, prepare a verdict for him that will end it once and for all.

  But then I see it.

  The love shining brightly directed at the woman, while he watches her with such adoration and… warmth.

  “Come inside and eat.”

  “Grandpa!” she exclaims, and the air leaves my lungs. “You are so grumpy today.”

  Grandpa.

  And that’s when my plans change.

  I no longer wish to ask any questions, because no matter his reply, the beast roaring inside me will never be satisfied with it.

  No, instead, I want to bring him the worst pain possible.

  Take away the one thing he loves most.

  His granddaughter.

  Callum

  Taking the file from the drawer in the groom’s room, I close my eyes and exhale heavily anticipating the culmination of my plan.

  All the years of planning… searching… imagining, it’s finally here.

  Where my past ends and my future begins, with no still time in between.

  I’ll settle the score once and for all.

  Magnolia pops her head in. “Callum, the priest has arrived. The wedding should start in thirty minutes.”

  The woman’s wanted me to get hitched for so long I’m surprised she’s not doing a victory dance. “Good.”