Rebellion of a Kingdom: Black Hallows Book 3

by G N Wright

  I grit my teeth. "You know where I'm going."

  "Alone?” he scoffs in exasperation. “I thought you were the smart one.” His tone is harsh and dark, his grip tightening. “How far do you think you’re gonna get? They will kill you before you even lay eyes on her."

  "I don't care. I have to try." I try to push him off, but he grips me harder and finally I look at him. Instead of the disappointment I expect to see in his eyes at my failure, all I see is worry and slight annoyance. There isn’t even a hint of pity, which I would have hated more than anything. I can’t bear it, especially not from him. His expression eases some of the tension from my body. I can’t allow him to comfort me, not after what I’ve done.

  I force my gaze to look past him and grit out my next words. “Let. Me. Go.”

  “I can’t do that, Donovan.” I flinch at the use of my family name. A name I never want to be fucking associated with ever again. The hatred for my blood is strong, but it pales in comparison to how much I hate myself right now. I flick my eyes to him again and see the pleading in his to make this easy, but how can I do nothing when they have her?

  “It’s my house, I can go there if I want to,” I snap back as the anger burns through my veins, it’s so close to the edge I can practically taste it.

  “Think,” he shakes me with his hands, “just fucking think. How did they find her? How did they know where to get her and when?” His grip remains iron tight on me, as his words puncture my mind. “They were a step ahead of us for who knows how long, we need to be smarter now. Cassie needs you.”

  The mention of her name cuts through me like a blade. I push him off, ignoring the pain waging through my body once more. "I don't care, I don’t fucking care, they took her." I scream, but it catches in my throat as tears appear in the corner of my eyes for the first time in years. The pain and anguish forces me to slump back against the wall. "They took her, Lincoln." I whisper, closing my eyes to let the weight of my failure crush me. "I let them take her.”

  His hand finds my shoulder again and I open my eyes, locking them with his. "I know."

  I can’t bear the compassion in his words. “You know nothing!” I hiss, pushing off the wall and shoving him away from me. “You think you know the sickness that burns through the veins of my brother and father, but you don’t. I have a rapist and a murderer as my role models.”

  I crack my jaw back and forth to try to ease the ache there as I lean back against the wall to hold myself up.

  I scrunch my eyes closed as I think back to the night, I saved Elle. “You didn’t see what they did to her. What he did to her.” I don’t have to say Elle’s name for him to know what I’m talking about. “Do you have any idea what it was like to overhear the things my father said about her and pray it wasn’t true? What it was like to follow him to where he was keeping Elle and for him to think I was there because I wanted in on the action?” I grimace in disgust at just the memory.

  “How Greg held his blade to her stomach on every thrust, laughing at every pained sound she made. How I had to stand there powerless, biding my time to help her.” I shake my head, wishing for once I could forget the look on her face, wondering why I wasn’t doing anything. Knowing that to truly be able to help her, I had to pretend I enjoyed it. To act like I was one of them.

  “You didn’t see the confusion and despair in her eyes. I did.” I bang my fist against my chest at my words. “I felt her agony.” Bang. “I felt her horror.” Bang. “And I couldn’t do anything.” Bang. “And now that same sadistic fuck has my daughter. So, don’t tell me you know.”

  “You’re not the only one who knows what it's like to have a murderer as a father.” His words give me pause as does the look on his face. It's unwavering, like what he’s just said is the most truthful statement he has ever spoken. “I know what it’s like to have someone you love taken from you, more than you know,” he adds.

  “I have to get her back before it’s too late.” I can hear the fight leaving my voice, but I try to convince him one last time.

  The look in his eyes tells me he knows what it’s like to be too late. He takes a deep breath before stepping towards me. "I know, but we fucking need you, okay? We need a plan, and we need you. All this?" He gestures with his other hand to me. "Lock it the fuck down until we need it."

  He sees it, sees me. The line I usually walk, that I am so far away from now. The one thing that ties me to that line and kept me from slaughtering every fucking one of them is gone.

  “What if we don’t?” I whisper, letting my worst fear bleed out into the open. “What if we don’t get her back?” The question tastes like poison on my tongue.

  His other hand finds my shoulder, bringing him fully into my space and I no longer feel the desire to push him away. "I promise you; we will get her back. You have my word.” His voice is smooth and unwavering. “I told you I would die for them and I will. I will get her back if it’s the last thing I ever fucking do." His promise hangs in the air like a declaration of war.

  I can't talk so I just nod, and his exhale hits my cheek before he nods back, straightening up. He releases my shoulders just as the front door slams open. His gun is in his hand with his body blocking mine in less than a second.

  "Woah, baby, chill." Logan's flirty voice floats into the air and I see Lincoln visibly relax.

  "Fucking hell, Logan. Where the fuck have you been?" Lincoln’s voice is harsh, and his words are clipped.

  "Oh, someone's needy. Been waiting for me, have you?" Logan continues to tease, clearly not reading the room.

  "Lo," I step out from behind Lincoln, speaking his barely used nickname and his smile falters a little.

  "Shit, psycho. Didn't see you - - what the fuck happened to you?" His smile changes to worry in an instant as he takes in my swollen and no doubt bruised face.

  "Logan," Lincoln hesitantly steps towards him and I see Logan's glare flicker down to his bloodied hands. We don’t even get a chance to say anything else before he rushes past us. Lincoln storms after him and I follow, getting to the room just as Logan’s legs give out on him.

  Lincoln manages to hold him up as he regains his footing and then he’s trying to push him off. “Let go of me, Lincoln,” he spits, trying to force Lincoln’s grip off him.

  Logan isn’t as big as Lincoln so Blackwell doesn’t even stumble as he holds him and responds, “You can’t help them, just give them room to work.”

  “That’s my brother. He needs me.” I hear the crack in his voice as he lets the emotions take over.

  Lincoln grips his face in a vice hold, forcing his stare to lock with his. “I know Logan, but you can’t do anything right now. Come help me with Ash, yeah?” It’s the first time he has ever referred to me as anything other than Donovan or dark prince. It feels familiar and safe, but somehow wrong to be hearing it like this.

  Logan turns his attention to me, his face pained, and as pale as a ghost. “What happened?” He moves towards me and grips my face so hard that I hiss, but the pain is welcome at this point. Nothing could hurt me more than the empty ache in my chest. I shuffle from foot to foot unable to keep still, desperate to run from this house and not stop until I have my daughter back.

  “You know what happened.” I rip my face from his hands and watch as realization dawns on him.

  “Where is Cassie?” he asks me before swinging his gaze to Elle who is still sitting on the floor next to Zack's body. When she hears our daughter's name, she looks towards us. I thought the worst look I would ever see in her eyes was on the night she was raped, but that was nothing. She looked scared, confused, in pain, but there was still life there, still parts of her remaining no matter how small. Now though? Now she looks lifeless, like her heart has been ripped out and it’s by sheer gravity that her body is still rooted here. It pushes me over the edge.

  I push Logan away from me and scramble to get to the door and escape. Leave this fucking house and finish this fucking war. Kill every fucking person that gets in my pat
h. Not resting until my daughter is home and my skin is soaked in the blood of my enemies.

  Again, I almost make it out of the room, but this time I have two pairs of hands gripping me, still I fight. For me, for her, for Elle. I have to get my daughter back, my girl. I will happily die trying.

  I fight against both Lincoln and Logan as Marcus joins them in restraining me.

  “Ash, look at me.” Elle steps up between them and tries to talk to me, but I can’t look at her. I promised her one thing, the only thing I could promise. That I would keep her and our daughter safe and I fucking failed. She is never going to forgive me, and I won’t ever forgive myself either.

  Chapter 3

  ELLE

  He’s so far gone right now and I can’t blame him. I feel his emotions like they are my own. Heartbreak, anger, despair, pain, they all flow through my body with a crushing force. My heart bangs against my chest rapidly, like it could just rip right out, and even with the goosebumps coating my skin, sweat still gathers on the back of my neck. The sick feeling in my stomach is constantly churning.

  The look on my best friend’s face is one I will never be able to unsee. Seeing him like this just reminds me of how our bond became so strong. How he was always there for me no matter what, and just how far we have come. Except I am not looking at my strong savior right now, instead he is the one breaking. He needs me, now more than ever and I have to show him we got this. That we are still in this together no matter what the odds are against us. I need to be strong for the both of us, for Cassie and for our family.

  “Ash, look at me.” I move Marcus aside to get to him, gripping his cheeks and forcing his gaze to collide with mine. His sparkling blue eyes aren’t the ones I find, instead they are as dark as stone. He looks both like a murderous villain and a lost boy all at once, the mixture of the two jarring. “We prepared for this, Ash.” I push the words past the bile in my throat, because yes, we may have prepared for the direst situation imaginable. But, experiencing it, living it, I could never have been ready for this feeling.

  “Prepared for this?” he spits. “You think I could have fucking prepared for this?” I watch the lone tear track down his cheek before he wipes it away bitterly.

  “Elle, I could never have fucking prepared for this.” His admission hangs in the air as we all swallow his words. I watch his body succumb to his feelings as he stops fighting against the hold the boys have him in. I nod my head at them, and they release him. He slumps back against the wall as the weight of the situation we are now in takes hold.

  Jace enters the hallway and I take in his blood covered appearance. He looks drained, which is exactly how I feel, and when I look back and take in the rest of the guys, they’re just as bad. Five strong, powerful, and fearless boys, all brought to their knees in one night. One shitty, chaotic, fucking hell of a night.

  I need to break. I need to forget everything and let the blackness inside of my heart take control, but if I do that who will bring me back? Who will protect my family? Who will save my daughter? No, I can’t break, I just can’t.

  I take a deep breath, pushing down the sickness in my throat. “Come on, let’s get you patched up and make a plan.” My words sound confident, but that’s not how I feel. What fucking plans do you make when a sick rapist cunt has kidnapped your daughter?

  All the guys look at me and I wish it was just pain in their eyes, but I see the pity too. They feel sorry for me and it pisses me off. They all know me so well, yet clearly not well enough. I don’t care. About anything or anyone that isn’t my daughter right now. Arthur will look after Zack, I know that, so the only thing I have to worry about is who I am going to kill first. My list of targets is long, and I won’t stop until every fucking name is crossed off in their blood.

  I don’t wait for the guys to respond before I turn and head back into the living area, knowing they will follow. Just as I enter, I see Zack is no longer on the floor and is instead lying on the huge dining table, he’s hooked up to an IV and Arthur is working meticulously over him with Helen by his side. I fucking hate this, hate that I have done this to them. If it weren’t for me, their son wouldn’t be lying bleeding right now. Why did I let so many people get close to me when I knew it would put a target on their back? I should have done this how I wanted to from the start. Alone.

  A phone ringing breaks me from my inner turmoil, and I turn to see all the guys standing just inside the entrance still with the same glib expression on their faces. Nobody is paying any mind to the phone.

  The ringing is incessant and annoying. “Whose phone is that?” I snap.

  They all look between each other and then Lincoln stalks towards the coffee table near where I found Zack, and retrieves a burner phone, I don’t recognize from it. I’m by his side in an instant and snatching it from his hands. I accept the call, immediately putting it on speaker.

  “Do I have your attention now, Miss King?” Elliot Donovan's sickly voice purrs down the line.

  “If you touch one fucking hair on my daughter’s head, I swear I’ll--.” I start, barely controlling my rage, but he interrupts me.

  “Oh, you mean my granddaughter. Why on earth would I hurt her? She’s family.” His tone is brimming with satisfaction. I wish I would have slit his throat in the graveyard when I had the chance.

  I should have just stalked back into this town in the dead of night and ended them all at once. Why the fuck did I allow myself to get caught back up in anything else? I knew this would happen; knew I would paint targets on everyone I love. Did I try to minimize that damage? No. Instead, I added more names to the list of people I care for and increased Donovan's chance of causing me pain. Except they didn't need that list, they went straight for the one target that I will do anything to get back. My life is literally in their hands.

  "You are nothing to my daughter," I spit back. "Bring her back, or you won't like the consequences."

  "I think we’re a little past your petty threats and retaliations, Elle." My name in his mouth makes my skin crawl. He says it like we are old friends catching up. "From what I gather you are lucky to even be alive right now. I have the upper hand here."

  I hate how right he is. “Where is she?" The words barely get past my gritted teeth.

  I can practically feel his smile when he responds, "Why, she is with her father of course." I feel the tears slip down my cheeks before I even know I'm crying. Usually when you imagine a child with their father, you would feel content, happy. But not me. Opposite ends of the earth wouldn't be enough space between my daughter and Greg Donovan.

  "The only father to my daughter is standing right next to me." My words are laced with rage. Ash comes to stand beside me, gripping my hand in his. I feel the tremble though our connected fingers. He is barely hanging on. We are dancing in this anguish together. Once again bonded in the most horrific common ground.

  "Ah yes, the little traitor. What a disappointment he turned out to be."

  Ash snatches the phone and spits his words into them slowly, deliberately. "Listen here, Father, and listen well. Touch one hair on my daughter’s head and you are going to wish I'd kill you quickly because when I get my hands on you, you will regret the day you were born."

  His words don't deter Elliot in the slightest. "Well, I certainly regret the day you were born. You get your weakness from your mother." He sounds utterly bored as he brings up his ex-wife. I don’t know much about her, except she left before they came here.

  "I'm going to harvest every fucking one of your organs and feed them to that sick piece of shit you call a son. You know, the one you are proud of." Ash responds darkly and I can see that his control is clawing its way back into his body. That edge he usually has that keeps him on top of his game. He thinks this is his fault, I can see it written all over his face, but he's wrong. This is all our fault. Thinking we could take them on and win, how stupid were we? That stupidity has cost me everything.

  "Is that my traitor brother? I thought four guys would have
been enough, what a shame." Greg's voice comes across the line and I can't control my flinch. I see the guys look at Ash and take in his injuries again, now knowing that it was four against one. Fucking spineless cunts.

  "How's our girl?" Elliot asks, the smugness pouring from him.

  "Settled in her room, where she belongs." That arrogant, charming, devilish tone burns in my ears.

  I snap, "You will pay for this. Even your pockets aren't deep enough for the fucking price I will make you pay." I am done playing games, these aren't petty battles of back and forth any longer. We are at war and it's time to take out the fucking General.

  "That kind of talk makes me glad you’re still alive. I'm really looking forward to fucking that attitude out of you, my queen." Greg purrs down the line and Ash’s grip tightens to the point where I think he might break my fingers. A pain I'd welcome at this point.

  I don’t let the psychotic little prick get to me. "The only way you'd get to fuck me, is by dragging my fucking corpse to your bed, you sick fuck." I am fucking done. I snatch the phone back from Ash and stalk away. The guys follow me, but I don't stop until I get to my revenge room.

  "Oh, so you wouldn't trade yourself for our daughter." His words halt me in my tracks as I enter. I don't reply, I can't, because I know the answer. He knows the answer. I would trade myself for her in a fucking heartbeat. I move inside and place the phone on the desk and load up the computers. I hear the door clink shut behind me as the guys come in after me.

  I turn around as they take a seat at the table, staring at me blankly as Greg continues, "You can have her back, I just have one stipulation."

  I cast my eyes across all the guys and find similar looks on all their faces. They look drained, scared, on edge. None of them have escaped Zack's blood, their black tuxedos rumpled, and shirts bloodied. A far cry from the beautiful boys that greeted me at the bottom of the stairs earlier tonight.