Relentless

by Jade West

  I would have to take his advice and hope for the best. Hole four was very isolated. There wouldn’t be a passerby for quite some time—at least I hoped not.

  “Thank you,” I said to the fool who’d shared their privacy, and then I walked on through.

  I knew where I was headed. My pace was quick and determined, ensuring I stayed on the edges of the course and out of view of the stragglers of golfers in the distance. Every single moment I could delay people identifying me as the culprit behind this attack was a tick for our odds of managing to reach the UK.

  I couldn’t take a golf cart, but I’d been walking no more than ten minutes when the two pieces of shit appeared on the horizon. I slowed down my pace, being more sure than ever to keep hidden as I approached. They were talking heatedly. I could see the waving of their arms, golf clearly the last thing on their minds.

  I knew then, beyond all doubt, that they were aware Reverend Lynch had encountered some… difficulties.

  I kept to the rough as I walked, heart thumping and blood ice cold and burning bright with the promise of vengeance. My gun was aching to fire and my fingers were aching to set the bullets free, right into the guts of them.

  I slipped on my leather gloves and was already holding the gun when I appeared in view. They were talking so intently that they didn’t notice me until I was close enough that they could hear me clear my throat.

  Both sick fucks jumped a mile when they saw me there, starting backwards once they registered it was me.

  Hardwick stepped away from Lionel Constantine, clearly happy to abandon him for his demise. So much for friendship and loyalty. He was clearly ready to run, his hands held up in front of him as I stepped up closer.

  “This is between you two,” he told me. “I’ll leave you to your family dispute and head on to the next hole.”

  “Get the hell fucking back here,” I snarled at him. “This has plenty to do with the both of you, you disgusting piece of shit.”

  I watched his mind whirring. I smirked as I saw the pieces come together for him, while Lionel Constantine was still staring on in mute horror.

  “You’re attacking the fellowship, yes?” Hardwick announced, his wavering voice scared enough to set my heart alight. “The fellowship has nothing against the Morellis, I can assure you of that.”

  “This isn’t about the fucking Morellis,” I told him with a vicious smile. “This is to do with Elaine.”

  “Elaine?!” Hardwick gasped. “You mean Elaine Constantine?”

  That’s when Lionel found his voice. “You just killed Elaine Constantine,” he said, and there wasn’t even the slightest hint of anger in his voice. “What the fuck has that got to do with coming after the fellowship?”

  I laughed to myself at their ridiculous attempt at feigning ignorance.

  “You know exactly what coming after the fellowship has to do with Elaine Constantine,” I told them. “You fucking abused Elaine Constantine when she was a pure little girl, you sick cunts.”

  I pointed the gun at them, silencer already in place. Their shock was evident, but not nearly so evident as their fear. They were absolutely petrified. Their own doom looming loud and clear.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Lionel said. “Like you give a fuck about Elaine.”

  “I love your beautiful angel of a niece,” I told him. “Just be grateful I don’t have longer to make you suffer even more for your crimes.”

  His eyes were open right on mine when I pulled the trigger. One lonely bullet, right in his face.

  He was gone. Hardwick started stumbling, trying to run. The sad, bloated prick didn’t get very far before I was up and at him, tearing him backwards and spinning him to face the corpse I’d just landed into hell.

  “No!” he cried out as I forced the gun in his hand and grasped his fingers around it. He fought, but I was stronger. His hand was clutching the gun when I turned it around and pressed the barrel up against his temple.

  “Please,” he begged me, squirming like a slug in my arms. “Please, no!”

  “Goodnight, motherfucker,” I hissed, and then I shot him.

  Only I didn’t shoot him, did I? It was his finger on the trigger.

  The sad, miserable fucker had shot himself. Appeared to the onlooker that he’d shot Lionel Constantine before blowing himself away, too.

  Oh, the bliss of inflicting that much hurt. I was back in my school days again, enjoying the suffering. Only this was better. More fulfilling than ever. Delivering Elaine’s revenge was the most rewarding torture I’d ever given.

  I was running out of time with the shots ringing out, and I knew it. The course was big and people were distant, but they were audible. Questions would surely be asked, and asked quickly.

  I got the fuck out of there as quickly as I fucking could.

  Only it wasn’t quick enough. Not as the dominos started tumbling.

  My cell was alive with news and whispers. My father as close to the tendrils as anyone else on the scene.

  They were coming for us. Right fucking now.

  5

  Elaine

  I started packing as soon as the Merc had left the driveway. My hands were jittery, but that was okay. It was good to have them occupied.

  It took barely any time before I’d folded and packed almost every item of clothing from Lucian’s closet. I’d boxed up several pairs of his shoes, and the bulk of toiletries we wouldn’t need to use before leaving, and then I’d dug into his most private space and packed his dream journal and fountain pen and the watch with RHM on the leather strap. I was on a mission, getting us ready to roll.

  My jitters were even worse when I was done. I drifted aimlessly around the place, chewing at my nails, staying inside with the door locked—just like I promised Lucian. As much as the grass outside was calling me, tempting me to head outside for some fresh air, I wouldn’t break my promise. As much as I wanted to venture out and see the mound of dirt we’d thrown over Reverend Lynch’s body, I didn’t. I didn’t break my promise to Lucian.

  Still, I’d stare at it from the window. I’d stare at that dirty grave and think of the disgusting body inside it with a flame down deep inside me. Fuck you, you sick asshole.

  I was so fucking glad he was dead.

  Reverend Lynch’s pit of a resting place was a beacon, thrilling me, but there was more to it than that. I couldn’t deny the thoughts that were tickling my mind. Thoughts of what Lucian might be doing as I waited for him to come home that could be so damn important. So damn important, and so private that he had chosen to keep it from me.

  Where could he be?

  If he wasn’t at Morelli Holdings, and we weren’t getting flights on our escape run until tomorrow, then where the hell could Lucian be?

  I knew there was something dark and deep about what he’d headed off to do, stepping out into the world when we should surely be hiding in here as quietly as we could and counting down the minutes. I also knew, just an inkling, but a powerful one, that what he was doing had something to do with me. I was still in shock about that—a powerful beast of a man like Lucian on a mission to do something for a little fuckup of a girl like me.

  There was a strange pleasure to it, better than the greatest cocaine buzz I’d ever felt. It made my heart soar to mean that much to someone. I’d never felt so wanted, or so important, or so validated.

  That tickle was deep and strong in me. The whisper that maybe, just maybe, someone else who deserved it would be joining Reverend Lynch in hell.

  I couldn’t even hope.

  One hour felt like a lifetime as I waited with the suitcases all packed and ready to go, so hell only knew how long twenty-four of them would feel like as we waited to make our run overseas. The minutes were dragging so slow they could cripple me. Still I drifted, thought, stared out of the window. Drifted, thought, stared out of the window.

  I couldn’t do it. Not all through the afternoon.

  I stopped drifting around the house enough to put the TV on o
nce another twenty minutes had crawled on by, expecting to see my face staring back out at me like usual. Only it wasn’t my face staring back out at me. Not this time.

  As it turns out, I wasn’t quite prepared for it.

  I knew we were in some serious trouble the moment the photograph came up onscreen.

  If you have any information about this man, journalist Terence Kingsley, then please call the number below.

  Oh fuck.

  They knew about Terence Kingsley.

  The face on the photograph wasn’t Lucian, but it was close enough to pass by at a glance. He was wearing the same style shirt and the same glasses—right down to the exact mahogany shade frames.

  My blood froze and my heart stopped, because if they were associating Terence Kingsley with me and my disappearance, if they knew I’d seen Terence Kingsley in my apartment just before my abduction, then we were in deep fucking shit. I was hoping my letter would have drawn the attention away from his visit but it was only a matter of time. It had always been just a matter of time.

  The number onscreen was scrolling.

  If you have any information about this man, journalist Terence Kingsley, then please call the number below.

  If you have any information about this man, journalist Terence Kingsley, then please call the number below.

  If you have any information about this man, journalist Terence Kingsley, then please call the number below.

  There were people from the Work Truths auction we’d been at, talking about how they’d seen him there, including my cousin, Harriet. It broke my heart to see her like that—tears streaming down her cheeks. She was genuinely asking for news on the journalist, but it was her naivety asking, loud and clear. There was no way in this world that people wouldn’t know. That people wouldn’t see the connection, the similarity between the Morelli god and the posh British journalist he’d been so good at pretending to be.

  Yeah, sure, there was no doubt about it. The pieces were piling up around us. The picture onscreen was just another huge pointer linking Lucian Morelli to me.

  We were running out of time.

  If you have any information about this man, journalist Terence Kingsley, then please call the number below.

  If only I had a cell, maybe I would. Maybe I’d tell them that journalist Terence Kingsley headed back to the UK a few days ago and I saw him leave. Something, anything just to get them off track. But I didn’t. I had nothing. It was just me, with my legs pulled up and crossed on the sofa as I rocked back and forth, staring at that photo onscreen.

  I leapt out of my skin when I heard a car pull back up in the driveway. Thank fuck for that. Thank fuck Lucian had made it home.

  For the second time that day, I twisted the key in the lock and raced on out of there to meet him, and this time I got further. I was racing, rushing… only it wasn’t Lucian’s Merc that was waiting for me outside when I screeched to a halt on nervous legs.

  It wasn’t the strength of Lucian greeting me when a tall stranger stepped out of the driver’s side and came after me.

  No.

  Oh my God, no.

  My body was on autopilot as I turned around and made a dash back to the safety of the house, but it wouldn’t have mattered, not for anything. My body would never have been fast enough.

  I was back up at the porch when the man’s hands grabbed me from behind and slammed me right on into the hallway. I had no idea who I was squealing against as he spun me around and threw me right up against the wall.

  “Little bitch Constantine,” he snarled. “We knew it. We knew you two were holed up together in some fucked-up little shit show of a haven. Where is Lucian?”

  I stared blankly, every inch of my skin prickling as I tried to work out just who or where this guy had come from. He had a scar down the right side of his face, a brute in the most brutish sense of the word. Dark and deadly with heavy eyebrows that made me feel like a useless little girl.

  “Who are you?” I asked, and his eyes were nothing but vile as he stared down at me.

  “I could be anybody,” he said to me. “Everyone is coming for you, bitch. Morellis, Power Brothers, your own fucking family.”

  It broke my heart that he was right.

  It also broke my heart that I may never see the love of my life again.

  One thing for sure was that I was never going to betray Lucian Morelli. The guy before me could do whatever he wanted, but I wouldn’t be revealing anything about the man I loved.

  “Tell me,” he pushed. “I want to know everything you know about the spawn of Satan.”

  I gasped when I felt it. The chill of the blade pressing against my ribs.

  He was really going to hurt me. The sick fuck in front of me was really going to hurt me.

  I was a tiny girl in that moment with my life flashing before my eyes, but I didn’t want it. I wanted everything than to say goodbye to the first shot at a future I’d ever really craved.

  “Tell me,” the guy grunted again. “I have a whole load of people waiting for a damn fucking update.”

  I closed my eyes as I shook my head.

  The whole load of people could wait, because I wouldn’t be telling him anything. Not a fucking thing.

  I don’t know when he used that blade on my ribs. My senses were swimming as I first felt the stab of pain slice my skin through the fabric of the shirt on me, and my squeals sounded distant. Distant and scary enough that my legs were like Jell-o.

  I just prayed with every part of my fucked-up little soul that on some weird level, I’d get at least one chance to see the love of my life again.

  Please God. Please just one more glance at Lucian Morelli.

  6

  Lucian

  I drove that car faster than I’d ever driven a car in my life as I sped my way back towards Kington Peak.

  The pieces were tumbling, a mess so churned that I had no idea who was coming from where anymore, only that they were all heading in one direction. Ours.

  People had been talking—Constantines and Power Brothers, and my own family on the sidelines.

  We were doomed. I was just begging to the universe that I’d reach Elaine before anyone else did, and before anyone reached me en route.

  I hadn’t known just how visible my own little shack in the wilderness had been to those around me. Naivety on my part.

  Please God, let me reach her.

  My wheels were spinning on gravel when I reached the driveway, and my heart was spinning to match when I saw the red car already parked up by our porch.

  Holy fuck, they were here for her.

  There was no point trying to be quiet or calm, so I didn’t. I burst on through the door consumed with a whole other league of rage and fear than I’d felt before, and there he was, some disgusting piece of shit with his hand around my sweetheart’s throat, his face right up in hers.

  And his blade against rib cage, hurting her. Hurting her bad.

  The guy thought he was some kind of professional killer, all set to bargain with me or battle information right out of me, only I didn’t give him even a second of a chance before I launched myself right at him and shunted him down to the floor.

  I was a beast possessed with hatred and rage, no longer caring if he took me out for the count, just so long as my Elaine was free from him.

  “Run!” I yelled at her, as I fought with that cunt, but she didn’t move, paralyzed, her blood visible even through my shirt on her chest.

  “RUN!” I yelled again, but it was the man underneath me who responded with action, trying his best to seize control.

  Luckily, thank holy fuck, he didn’t make it.

  I heard his grunt before I felt his blood, both of our limbs flailing and twisting.

  The universe was damn fucking kind in that moment. Seriously damn fucking kind.

  His eyes were cold and dying as I twisted his blade even further into his ribs. I felt a whirr of satisfaction seeing that—seeing his payback for trying to hurt my woman with
the same callous intent.

  His stare was already void and numb when Elaine finally found motion and dropped to the hallway floor. I reached for her and she went straight into my arms, and she was hurting enough to be trembling and crying, the blood on her chest enough to redden my fingers.

  “You saved me,” she managed to whisper, and I wished it was skill and intent more than luck that had led me back to her in time.

  I’d been a fool to hit the golf course. An absolute fool to believe we were in anything other than a web of people out for our blood, all coming at us with different whispers.

  “You saved me, Lucian,” Elaine whispered again, and I tugged the shirt from her ribs enough to realize she was right.

  She was hurt and bleeding, but she wasn’t in danger of bleeding out, not entirely. Still, it was enough to have me reeling, sick and desperate, and I knew then that I’d never be able to stand seeing my beautiful baby girl take any pain from any piece of shit in this world. Especially not because of me.

  The knowledge that I’d brought her to this was a hammer blow to my chest, heavy and hard.

  The body on the floor next to us was just another example of not giving a fuck for anyone’s life other than ours as I got to my feet and lifted her to hers.

  I carried her through to the bathroom and found my medical supplies, wrapping her up tight in a bandage.

  She whimpered but let me touch her, giving me control over her body, even through her pain and tears.

  There was no doubt about it when I saw that wound of hers in cold hard light—he would have killed her.

  There was no doubt about the coming truth, either. They would be coming right back in for round two, and it would be soon. Really damn soon. We needed to get out of there as quickly as we possibly could.

  “You packed?” I asked and she managed a nod.

  “Yes, I packed.”

  “Let’s do it, then,” I said. “We’re on the fucking run.”

  7