by Holt, Leah
LOVE IN THE
DARK
A DARK ROMANCE
Leah Holt
Copyright © 2019 Leah Holt
All rights reserved. LOVE IN THE DARK: A DARK ROMANCE is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Love In The Dark (The Dark Flower Series)
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Also from Leah Holt:
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
About Leah Holt
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Also from Leah Holt:
CHAINED: A Bad Boy Romance
HIS PRICE: A Billionaire Romance
MY SOLDIER: A Military Romance
BARE SKIN: A Billionaire Romance
BAD BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance
DIRTY BEHAVIOR: A Dark Mafia Romance
SWEET VIRGIN
BEG ME ANGEL: A Dark Romance
PUSHED: A Dark Romance (Dark Flower Series Book One)
KEEP ME: A Dark Romance
REDD: A Dark Romance
BEAUTIFUL LIE
ALPHA ON TOP: A Bad Boy Romance
ALMOST GLASS
QUEEN OF PENTACLES (Cards Of Love)
WHEN IT RAINS... HE POURS
Prologue
Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived peacefully at home with her mother and siblings. Her father had gone to war, sending letters whenever he could.
Every day this little girl would run to the mailbox and check it for his notes. Most of the time it was empty, but every now and again she would get lucky, finding a letter tucked inside. The envelope would be dirty, the bright white a smokey shade of gray and brown as if he had rubbed it in the dirt before he sent it.
Her father would fill her small mind with loving words. He would talk about how much he missed his family, and how it was rough where he was, but that he was alright and would come home as soon as he could.
He would talk about memories of their trips to the beach and how he couldn't wait to be home with his family. He would tell his daughter that she needed to be good, that she needed to stay strong, and one day soon, he would show up on the doorstep, and give her the biggest hug she'd ever had.
That little girl waited, she waited and watched the driveway. She waited, stalking the window like a lonely puppy, just anticipating that moment a car would pull up and her father would get out.
Only he never came.
His letters arrived less often, their messages scattered and confusing. The strong man she remembered had started to fear for his family, afraid that something was going to happen to them, warning them to be careful and not to trust anyone.
The girl couldn't understand why he was so afraid, the war was so far away, there was no way it would ever reach them. Her mother had promised her that they were safe right where they were, and that no one would ever come to harm them.
She had told her that the war was between others, that it didn't involve the innocent.
'We are the innocent, my little flower, no one wants to hurt us.'
Then something changed. Her mother refused to talk about her father anymore and told her daughter that she wasn't allowed to read anymore letters.
It was a horrible new rule the girl couldn't understand. Her father was everything to her, it didn't make sense why her mother would take the only connection the girl had to him. Those letters made her feel close to him, like their lives weren't so far apart if she could see his words, knowing that his hands had touched the same paper she was holding.
Losing that, tore her apart inside.
One day, the young girl came home from school to find her mother standing in the kitchen with three suitcases. Her skin was white as a ghost, her eyes red and swollen as if she had been crying.
“Mom, what's wrong? What's going on?” she asked, dropping her backpack on the floor.
Sniffling, her mother softened her eyes in the same way she had when the family dog died and she had to break the news. “We need to leave, my flower, it's time for us to go,” she said, her voice almost a whisper.
The young girl peered up at her mother, tears of her own starting to bubble over her large, green eyes. She felt so confused and afraid about what was happening. Her mother looked so sad and lost the girl could feel that something wasn't right.
“What about Dad?”
“Your father will find us, but we can't stay here, it's not safe.” Her mother was clutching the girl's little brother to her hip, and her younger sister was standing at her mother's side, digging her thin nails into her leg. “I can't explain it to you right now, you just have to trust me.”
“But where will we go?”
“Away from here.” Holding out her arm, she waved the little girl in. “Dad wants us to be safe, it's not safe here anymore.” Rubbing her back, she leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “He loves you and he will find us. There's not a doubt in my mind about that.”
“I want my dad,” the girl cried, burying her face into her mother's dress. “I don't want to go, I just want my dad.”
“I know my little flower, and he'll be with us again, I just don't know when.” Patting her back, her mother pulled her away. “You need to be strong for your brother and sister—and for me. Can you be strong for me?” Sniffling, the girl wiped her fingers across her eyes and nodded. “Good, that's good, it's time to go. I want you to grab the blue suitcase and carry it to the car.”
Holding in her tears, the girl took the handle in her hand and tugged the heavy suitcase towards the door. “Are we going to see Nana and Papa?”
“No, I'm sorry, we can't, we need to go far far away.” Walking behind her, her mother pushed her along, trying to pull the other two bags with her as she bobbled a child against her ribs. “And we won't be able to call them either, we have to hide.”
“Hide? Why do we need to hide?” The girl stopped short, turning to look up at her mom. “I don't understand what's going on. Why do we need to do this? Why can't we just stay here and wait for Dad to come?”
Her mother forced a slight smile, but it was so weak, so brittle, she thought her mother's lips were going to crumble. “I'll explain it all to you one day when you're older, but right now, I just need you to do as I say.”
Nodding, the girl pushed the screen door open, pulling the bag behind her. Walking down the steps, the suitcase bounced off each one with a loud pop. But her mother didn't s
cold her for not lifting it up, she just kept pushing her along, telling her to hurry.
“Put it in the back with you and climb inside.” Walking to the other side of the car, she opened the door and pulled the baby off her hip, setting him in the car seat.
The little girl leaned the bag against the edge of the door and started to lift it from the bottom to push it up. It was so heavy, as if her mother had packed it full with every ceramic dish from the cupboard.
“What did you put in this thing?” she asked, grunting as she gave it another hard shove.
Tires squealed up the street, so the girl stopped, letting the bag drop back to the ground. Peering at her mother, she watched the blood drain from her face as she threw her hand above her eyes to block the sun, and searched for the direction of the sound.
“What was that?” the girl asked, taking a few steps towards the back of the car.
“Get in the car, get in the car now!” her mother screamed as she scrambled to pick up the small girl at her feet and stuff her into the car. “Get in the car right now!”
“Mom, what's going on?”
“Go! Go now!” her mother yelled, flailing her arms wildly and trying to pull the keys out from inside her purse.
But the young girl was paralyzed as she watched two cars come flying up the road, slamming on the brakes as they reached the edge of the driveway.
Five men emerged from the cars, all of them carrying guns. The men stalked up the pavement, each one dressed in black clothing and heavy black boots, their eyes shaded by dark sunglasses.
“No! I won't let you! You can't do this!” her mother screamed at the men, running towards the group and throwing her arms out to block them from coming any closer. “Run! Run, little flower!”
But the girl couldn't run. She wanted to, she knew she should, but she couldn't. All she could do in her state of confusion was stand there, watching in shock as a man threw her mom to the ground, placing his gun to her temple as she begged him to let her family go.
It didn't look like he was listening to her, or even cared one bit about what she was asking. The other guys veered off in different directions, splitting apart like the arms of a branch. Each one moved with precision like it wasn't a sporadic event, but a well formulated plan.
Her eyes tried to follow each one individually, but it was impossible. With her head twisted over her shoulder, she watched a man enter her home with his gun held out, aiming it at invisible danger.
The space around her grew dark, as if the sun had suddenly disappeared behind a thick cloud. Turning around, she quickly realized it was the shadow of a guy coming towards her. A tall man with a light brown beard walked stealthily up the driveway, tucking his gun into his waist.
“Run! Run!” her mother demanded, but the girl stood frozen, unable to move her legs.
It was like time had stopped for that little girl. She could hear the sound of her mother's voice, but couldn't hear her words. She could see the man getting closer, but couldn't make out any of the fine details on his face.
“RUN!” Her mother's voice finally found its way inside, flipping a tiny switch in her brain. Turning on her small heels, she tried to take off. But it was too late. The man grabbed her around the waist, tossing her over his shoulder and turning back towards the cars.
“Let her go! Don't do this! Please, you don't need to do this! Just let her go!” Her mother pleaded to the man with a gun to her head, her nails digging into the lower part of his pants.
“Don't need to do this—maybe you should have told your husband that from the start,” he said, pulling back the hammer. “It's too late for begging.”
“Take me, take me instead. Just let my kids go and I'll go with you.”
The young girl's body bobbled and bounced against the man's shoulder as he approached the car. “Mom! Mom!” the girl screamed, reaching her arms out in the direction of the only safety she knew.
“Please, I'm begging you, don't take my children.”
“Are you fucking deaf? Was I just talking to myself?” Cocking his head, his lip turned into a snarl. “What's done is done. It's nothing personal, business is business. Don't act like you didn't know this was coming. . .” Chuckling, the man smirked. “Your husband knew what would happen if he didn't hold up his end, obviously he didn't give a shit—”
“He's not here, I don't know where he is,” her mother said, cutting him off.
“We'll see about that, but it still doesn't change shit. The message needs to be given, he needs to know who's in charge.”
Her mother's head dropped into her hands as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Slipping the girl off his shoulder, the man pushed her inside one of cars and shut the door. She sat alone for what seemed like eternity. The car was hot inside, the air thick and salty, smelling of metal and thick, sour cologne.
The girl's ears were ringing from the change of air, silencing the world around her. Her disconnect with reality and immature mind was trying to grasp what was going on, but there was no way for her to fully understand it.
The man who grabbed her climbed into the front passenger seat as another one of the men slid into the driver's side. The engine roared to life, vibrating her ribs, but the girl couldn't take her eyes off the window.
Her eyes met her mother's. “I love you.” Her mother's lips moved in soundless words as she closed her eyes and lowered her gaze to the ground.
The girl could see two other men grabbing her brother and sister from the car and walking off to the other vehicle with them. The man who had gone into the house, came out shaking his head.
That small signal, the subtle 'no' he said without words, it was the nail that sealed the coffin.
The man in the front seat pulled a yellow rag from his pocket and wiped the sweat off his forehead before tucking it away. “You're going to want to look away, little girl, I don't think you'll want to see this.” His voice was scratchy and thick, reminding her of her grandfather who used to smoke those unfiltered cigarettes.
The car jerked forward as it pulled away from her home, forcing the girl to turn back to the window. Resting her palm against the glass, she heard a loud pop as the distance grew between the car and her house. She watched as her mother's body fell to the ground, laying motionless.
She was too young to really dissect exactly what had happened, but deep in her heart she knew she would never see her mother again. Tears filled her eyes as the car turned and her home was no longer visible.
And as she wept alone, without the comfort of a hug and someone telling her everything would be alright, as she slowly began to see that her entire life had just changed, that little girl still held on to hope.
Hope that her father would come to save her.
Hope that he would find her and punish the men for hurting her mother.
Hope. . . A hope that would soon fade when none of that happened.
A hope that would be replaced by hate.
I wish that was just a scary story, a tall-tail about men who come and steal you away from your mother's arms if you don't follow the rules or disobey your parents. . .
But it's not just a story. It's my reality.
I was nine when they took me away, nine when I saw my family last, nine when I watched my mother die.
I was nine when my life changed forever.
My name is Berlin, and my life is no longer my own.
Chapter One
Berlin
Fifteen years old
“Sit.”
Folding my hands together, I sat on the hard wooden chair against the back wall. I didn't say a word, because I wasn't allowed to unless he permitted it.
It was one of the new rules Virgo had so kindly decided I needed. I couldn't lie, it was hard as hell to not ask questions, to not answer back with a snotty comment or attitude, but I was trying.
Every day it felt like I was drifting further and further away. I wasn't myself. But how could I be? This wasn't my life.
My life stopped at nine years old. All of this was just a scary nightmare I couldn't escape.
“I have some men coming today.” Standing above me, he played with the ends of my hair. His touch a false tenderness, one I had learned to see right through. “I don't want you asking questions, I don't want you looking at them, I don't want you to do anything unless I tell you to. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Patting the top of my head, he walked towards the long table in the center of the room. “Now these men, my sweet child, are not nice men.” He was speaking into the air, his head facing away from me as he looked over the table.
So they're just like you?
The snippy question burned behind my eyes, searing my retinas like a neon sign. But I held onto the silence, choosing not to let it out.
That was my solace, my way of twisting his rules into a game of my own. He might have told me not to speak, but in my mind, I was refusing him an answer. It made me feel like I had more power, as if I was controlling this dreadful situation.
The sad reality I was living in was actually better if I felt like my silence was a choice and not forced.
There was a dark box sitting near Virgo's chair that he kept shifting and adjusting. He'd move it to one side, then push it back over to where it was before. I watched him from the corner of my eye, spinning and twisting that box as if it made a difference.
Kicking my legs back and forth nervously, I could feel my stomach as it twisted into corded rope. I had never been in one of his meetings before. For the entire six years I had been with him, he never once let me sit upstairs for longer than a few minutes, keeping me hidden away in the depths of the basement.
But there was something different about him that day, something about that whole situation that didn't feel right.
My legs swept over the floor, making soft thumps against the wall. Tucking my hands under my thighs, I watched my feet as they moved back and forth like a pendulum. I could feel him watching me, but I didn't look up, keeping my eyes down.
