by Mason, V. F.
I’m not sure how the rest of the guys tolerate his ass for the shit he puts them through.
That’s a story for another time though.
He clacks his tongue, placing his hand on his chest. “Always such a barbarian. Don’t worry, I’m not interested in your woman.” Then he shrugs, resting his hand on the wall. “I’ll easily find someone else.” The guy is fucked up in the head for many reasons, but he has one trait that makes him bearable to the likes of us.
He is always up to participating in any dark deed as long as he gets to inflict his own brand of torture too, which is sick on many levels, but then it’s not like I judge.
It’s in bad taste judging one’s serial-killer tactics, after all, and Mama raised a good-mannered boy.
He returns his gaze to the man splayed on the floor. “I’m not sure this one was worth my trip from France though.” He sighs. “Disappointment is hard to swallow.”
“Yeah, right” is my reply, because otherwise, I’m gonna really choke him to death for his acting skills. We both know damn well if there is a body to torture, he is never going to refuse to play with it.
Deep rage momentarily awakens inside from the memories of Cole jumping on Cassandra, ready to put his filthy hands on her and harm what’s mine.
There is only one instinct, and that’s payback; he won’t so much as breathe without pain for a very long time.
Walking toward him, I purposely step on his fingers, and they crunch under my shoes, but it still doesn’t awaken him. Not that I thought it would.
Kneeling next to him, I take out a syringe from my pocket and quickly insert it into his neck, sending enough sedative into his system he won’t be awake for a long time.
Satisfied, I get up and tell my guest, “You heard the lady; you have to leave.” I throw the needle into the nearby trashcan. “Put him in your car and take him to my dungeon. I’ll be there once I drop Cassandra off.” There’s no way in fuck I’d leave her here alone now.
Even though she seemed compliant and didn’t try to run away after seeing me, it wasn’t exactly the welcome I expected after earlier.
But I won’t risk her staying here and keeping herself from me; she’ll be fucking locked in my house until I have time to deal with her and the destruction she and my alter have started in this town.
And besides, I don’t trust her not to put on an act for me now. Cassandra is a survivor, and they are notorious for doing anything in order to escape someone they hate.
Not to mention the other danger that’s always present around us.
He laughs, although it’s laced with a barely audible warning, and salutes me. “I can’t remember when I gave you the impression I’m your bitch.” His tone drops a few octaves. “Don’t push me, Madman.”
“Ah, you’re breaking my heart,” I reply, unfazed by his anger, because who the fuck cares?
“And you are the mayor in this town?” he asks, amusement flashing in his eyes even though tension is still present between us. “You need to learn to be nicer to people who help you.”
I chuckle. “You don’t help me. You came for your own gratification.” I hear Cassandra emerging from her room, the sound of her bag rolling on the floor echoing in the space. “Look, we can measure dicks here until we turn blue. I have no time for this. So grab him and leave.” All this is fun and all, but it’s not like we’re teenagers anymore.
We have no time to waste on useless shit.
There are people who need to be killed, after all.
“Only because I owe you. This”—he wiggles his fingers between us—“settles the score between us.” He waits for my nod, because it works for me; besides, he fulfilled his purpose for me. “Order me around again, and we will see whose neck is gonna get snapped.” Even though his voice stays steady, I know he means every single word.
Compared to everyone else, he has no problems killing anyone he sees fit and doesn’t much care for the crimes they’ve committed.
If he disagrees with their actions and he’s bored… they’re dead.
Maybe that’s why most of us prefer to stay away from him; his brand of crazy can never be controlled, not even by Lachlan.
But that’s what makes him perfect for what I have planned. “Deal.” We shake hands, and whistling loudly to my annoyance, he turns his head. Cassandra is coming downstairs, dragging her bag and cursing. I quickly take it from her, frowning. “You should have called me.”
She snorts, finding something about it funny. “Such a gentleman,” she says with a small smile, and I shrug.
“My woman doesn’t carry heavy stuff.” And I don’t fucking care how chauvinistic it sounds.
“Who said I’m your woman? I never agreed to that,” she says back to me, smiling smugly, and despite the situation, amusement flashes through me.
“Thankfully, I never cared if you agreed or not.”
She crosses her arms and opens her mouth, ready to strike me with some smart-ass comment again, when his voice echoes between us. “So that’s what domestic bliss looks like.” Cassandra half turns to face him, adjusting her sunglasses on her head, and her eyes widen when she sees him pick up Cole, throwing him over his shoulder. “Well, I gotta go. I’d say it was nice to meet you, but since you kicked me out… my lips are sealed.” He winks at Cassandra, waves at me, and walks out of the house, his purple hair glistening in the sun.
Showoff.
“Your friend is… interesting,” Cassandra says, putting her sunglasses back on, and then grabs her cell phone from the kitchen along with the laptop. “Let’s go.”
I study her calm posture and gentle smile. She is acting normal, as if we’re going on some trip. I scan her from head to toe for any hint of discomfort or fear.
After all, isn’t she willingly about to go to a serial killer’s mansion? One who has an alter on top of that?
Easy.
Too easy in the light of her earlier resistance.
She gives me a curious look, pressing her laptop to her chest, and shakes her head as if silently asking me what’s going on.
Oh, Lachlan taught her well.
If you can’t save yourself from the danger, pretend to accept it and strike the enemies when they least expect it.
But unbeknownst to her, he was my teacher too.
Two can play this game.
I don’t need her fake acceptance or grand plans of escape, because none of it will ever come true. The monster inside me can never be tamed or soothed… and he can’t be cured.
I’ll always crave the blood and torment of my victims and never give up this life that I’m living.
How could I?
Cassandra probably thinks that if she knows the truth about me, she can stop me from doing my deeds and her love can conquer all.
Not in this case.
We both finally know about the game and play against each other, fighting for a future that both of us are uncertain of.
Game fucking on.
The outcome will always be the same. I’ll be the winner who takes it all.
In more ways than she anticipates.
Cassandra
Eudard regards me silently, and even though I want to spin around to avoid his probing gaze, I stand my ground and act breezy, because what else is there to do?
It’s not like I have any other choice, and setting off his personal alarms by screaming like a lunatic wanting to escape didn’t help me before.
Maybe if we stopped playing hot and cold with each other, none of this mess would’ve happened, but like my mom said, dwelling on the what-ifs is useless.
I have to deal with the reality created by all our choices.
Then his mouth spreads in a sinister smile with his eyes staying cold as ice, and he winks. “You are brave, my phoenix.” His words wrap around me like silk, lightly caressing my skin, but I feel the tightening hold it possesses. “Be careful.” He picks up my bag, strolling to the door. “Don’t forget to lock the door.”
I grit my
teeth from the desire to throw at him the fact that I’ve lived alone my whole adult life and, as such, don’t need his instruction. I snatch the keys from the nearby table and lock the door, wondering if he plans to keep me prisoner in his house.
Maybe I’m an idiot who has trusted the wrong monster and should have called Arson to end it all.
My awesome plan to get revenge sure turned out splendidly—so much for great schemes.
You made your bed, Cas. Now lie in it.
I hop into the car, shutting the door, and the engine roars to life. Eudard pulls away swiftly and onto the narrow, straight road that in around twenty minutes will take us to Campbell land.
Resting my head against the window, I try to act like I don’t notice the heavy silence that hangs above like an ax ready to fall on me and save me from this misery.
I’m not sure what else I expected though.
Confessions? Explanations? Love declarations?
Chuckling at the last part, because Eudard probably doesn’t even know what love means, I jump in my seat when his husky voice fills the enclosed space. “What’s so funny?”
Smiling sweetly at him, even though I detest the command in his tone, I reply, “Your friend.” By the amused glance he sends my way, I know he doesn’t believe me, but hey, no one needs honesty, right?
We are both such skilled liars we can use whatever is necessary to achieve our goal.
He placed us in this position where we fight against each other, so it’s not like he can blame me.
In love and war and all that jazz.
Eudard speeds up a little, his sports car sending rocks flying under it. “I think he’d detest being that.”
“Oh? Serial killers aren’t supposed to be funny?” I tap my finger on my chin, musing. “Probably ruins the whole image among others, right?” I ask, sounding interested when in fact I don’t give a shit what his friend likes. Actually, knowing this might provoke me to call him that should we meet again.
“You are so sure he is a serial killer, huh?” He laughs, rolling down the window and allowing the fresh breeze to slap our cheeks and cool my skin that is flushed red from his presence.
“Isn’t he?” All his actions spoke that he was, and besides, who would so breezily pick up an unconscious man and then freaking wink at me?
“Among other things.” Eudard trails his fingers over the console button and turns on the radio. Light jazz music fills the interior, not that is has its usual effect on me.
“Oh, I see. What does he do in his normal life?” I ask, putting quotation marks on the word normal, because all this is hilarious as hell.
Killing people now is considered among other things, like merely an amusement they use to pass their time, their freaking favorite hobby.
Eudard doesn’t say anything, just moves his head in time with the melody, which annoys me, but I keep the smile intact, not giving him the satisfaction he seeks.
He doesn’t like my attitude, this much is clear, but I’m not gonna act irrational with him either.
He wanted a war; he’ll get one.
“Let’s use the method of deduction,” I say, splaying my palm and bending fingers as I list all the must-haves this guy needs in order to belong to their little group. “He is probably a billionaire, so he must have a successful side business. He probably has a nickname on the streets wherever he lives, so the police are aware of him. He must know Lachlan and the rest of the guys.” I watch his face carefully at the mention of Lachlan’s name, but his muscles don’t even twitch. He is relaxed as hell.
Or so it seems.
Does it mean he doesn’t know them or that they have no problem with each other? Why then didn’t they mention his name, like freaking ever, besides that small conversation with Lachlan in his office?
I put away these thoughts for later and focus on the conversation at hand. “Oh, and he probably has his favorite method of killing.” I finish by asking, “Does this about cover it all?”
“You think you know the likes of us so well, huh?” His empty laughter echoes between us, breaking goose bumps on my skin from the chilliness of it. “Not even close, darling. And about him… you are right only on one account. He is rich. He doesn’t have a business, because he doesn’t need one.” Is he some kind of royalty or what? “He works as a professor at a university.” Freaking what now? A professor? My jaw drops open while I blink at him in a surprise, and without taking his eyes from the road, he shuts it while continuing to destroy my assumptions. “He doesn’t leave any traces for the police to search for him. All of his victims stay unfound. He hates Lachlan with a passion, because he got kicked out by him.” Oh, so he does know Lachlan, and wait… this weird guy got kicked out by him?
How is that possible?
To the best of my memory, Lachlan never did that. If there was someone he couldn’t control, he simply killed them, because he claimed they were a danger to society.
I found it crazy, because aren’t they all a danger to society? Not that I ever voiced my opinion on the matter, which would have been hypocritical, all things considered.
Since I’m not sure what to say to all this now, I settle on, “For the sake of all the women out there, let’s hope he doesn’t get obsessed with one of his students.” God help her then because I have a feeling there is no escaping this guy.
That would be one fucked up romance I don’t wish on anyone.
All thoughts about other people fly away, though, when the gates to the Campbell land come into view, majestic as ever with their golden color reflecting the sun streaming on them.
There is a security cabin next to them, and one of the guards comes out when Eudard presses the remote and they start to open. The security man waves to him and Eudard nods, making the engine roar again, and I roll my eyes.
Clearly he spends more time on his bike because he is restless in the car. Who the hell revs the engine for no reason anyway?
Once the gates are wide open, he slides between them, and I sit up straight, mesmerized by the beauty presented in front of me.
We are driving down the concrete road that has endless gardens on either side with huge, old oak trees dangling their branches over the neatly cut green-as-emerald grass. Their mom’s favorite rosebushes are scattered all over the place, around the fountains and the various animal statues. Their father used to say these magnificent creatures deserved to forever be carved in stone.
Where the other founding five families preferred to plant a variety of flowers that were suited to our climate and soil, the Campbells favored only roses, as they thought their beauty should never be distracted from by other plants.
But secretly everyone knew Ridge Campbell probably did it for the sake of his wife who was strangely allergic to any other flower, and since the garden was her domain, he created heaven on earth for her here.
It’s almost a wonder how a man who was capable of loving his woman so much could have been so cruel to me in the wake of what happened.
Several alcoves with white blossoms wrapped all around come into view as we drive farther, providing a perfect place of peace for reading or thinking while the sound of water in the distance soothes one’s nerves.
A memory pops in my head so unexpectedly I have no time to stop it despite the pain it brings.
Running soundlessly on the grass to the alcoves, I wipe my tears away while sobs shake my entire body.
Why are people so mean to me?
Finally reaching the bench, I sit on it, wrapping my arms around my knees, and hide my face in between them, crying quietly, because I don’t want the Campbell staff to find me.
I’m not welcomed here since the twins stopped being my friends, but Mom had to stop by the mansion to pick up papers, so it’s not like I had a choice.
I couldn’t cry in the car for their security guards to see, and besides, no one comes to this alcove. It’s located deeper in the garden where the beauty is wilder. Oak trees here are not polished by their gardeners, as guests
don’t see this part of their land.
I will myself to stop the hysterics, because they never help me; they only make me feel worse for being me. Is life this difficult for all fifteen-year-olds?
But then maybe not all fifteen-year-olds got their dreams stripped from them with one injury.
A light pat on the hand startles me and I gasp, a sob stuck in my throat, and raise my head to see Eachann behind the alcoves, leaning on the banister. “Hey,” he says, and although his voice sounds a bit huskier than usual, he adjusts the glasses on his nose that leaves no doubt, despite my blurry vision, which of the twins is here with me.
Not that I ever expect Eudard to show up—just the idea is laughable. Last time our paths crossed, he asked Patricia why she was still mingling with his help.
Like I ever worked for him.
So, yeah.
Asshole.
“Hey,” I reply, wiping my nose with the sleeve of my sweater, and blink when Eachann gives me his handkerchief with the Campbell initial on it. “Thank you.” I blow my nose into it, hating how unladylike I probably look for my crush, but it’s not like I can avoid this in the current situation. “I’m sorry for trespassing,” I say quietly, not knowing how he’ll react to this.
While, yes, he is friendly enough in the hallways and during our music classes, mostly he acts like we’ve never been friends either. I’m starting to think my friendship with the Campbells was nothing but a figment of my imagination.
“It’s okay,” he replies. And then to my surprise, he tightens his hold on the banister, jumping inside the alcove and landing on the floor with a loud thud without much effort.
Wow! He must be into some sports.
He drops onto the bench next to me, calm as always. “Rough day?” I frown at his bloody knuckles but answer his question.
“You could say that.” I sigh, pressing my back to the railing. “Everyone is laughing at my ice-skating dream now.” My voice is barely audible, so Eachann leans closer to me to hear better, and his scent hits me, confusing me to no end.
Why do I have such a strange reaction to him?
“Tell me about it.” There are traces of demand in his tone, but I pay no attention to that.
