Dangerously Damaged: A Contemporary Dark Bully Romance (The Shadowed Souls Series Book 3)

by Abigail Cole

  Ripping the cap from my head and not bothering to fix my hair that is flying in all directions, I throw it down in the centre of table and slide out of the booth, stomping into the single bathroom and locking the door behind me. Leaning over the sink, I glare at my reflection with all the rage I feel for Wyatt, Dax, myself, even Nixon. My blue eyes are blazing, my skin turning red as my fury shows itself on the outside. So much for a calm existence, hiding away from the world and the pain it causes. I stupidly thought I’d already had my share of suffering, but no one can escape the endless spin cycle of shit we’re all stuck in, waiting it out until we’re rung dry, discarded, faded and wrinkled.

  Well it ends now, no more hiding. No more feeling helpless. I’ve spent years building on my stamina, strength and resilience so no asshole would ever be able to make me feel weak again. I’m Avery fucking Hughes, a daughter, a twin and a survivor. Let them find me, take me to my sister and find out exactly who they’ve messed with.

  Wyatt

  My ears are bleeding from Meg’s constant singing as she seems to know every single song the damn radio plays. Even after I switched from channel to channel, she’s beatboxed, rapped, yodelled, belted Celine Dion, been headbanging and even managed to do the robot despite the limited use from one of her hands. She’s not a bad singer, but the fact she is relaxed enough to enjoy herself as if this is a fricking road trip is sending me insane. Why isn’t she crying and begging me to free her? I’m literally driving her to her execution, not a weekend at Summerfest. Her feet are even up on the dashboard, having kicked off her shoes and reclined her seat slightly.

  “You know if I crashed right now, your knees would go straight through your eye sockets and crush your skull.” I say during a brief reprieve of idle chitchat between radio hosts before the next song starts up.

  “It’s a good thing you’re too vain to mess up that pretty face of yours then, isn’t it?” she replies with a smile. Glancing past her into the side mirror, I notice an HGV truck thundering down the freeway in the next lane. Spinning the wheel, I swerve the car sideways and slam my foot on the brake harshly. She flies forward before her seatbelt locks her in place, her face inches from her kneecaps and a high-pitched scream leaves her lips. The truck veers into the lane I’ve vacated, the deafening sound of his horn blasting as the trucker also stops beside us.

  Hollering and swearing down at me, I laugh whole-heartedly and give him the middle finger, pushing on the accelerator to leave him far behind. Multiple cars have had to brake suddenly and skid across the lanes, a mounting traffic jam starting to pile up in my rear-view mirror. Flicking on the indicator arrogantly, I causally take the next exit with a delightfully quiet companion. Following the winding ramp, I halt at an intersection and nod to a passing a cop car, the uniformed female in the passenger seat giving me a sly smile.

  “Fucking lunatic,” Meg mutters under her breath.

  “You’re the one that thinks I have a pretty face, so what does that make you?” I respond, rendering her peacefully speechless once again. I switch the radio off in case a song she can’t resist comes on to boost her resolve and focus on searching for somewhere to rest for the night. I’ve been driving for almost twenty-four hours straight; the sun is dipping below the horizon in a cloudless lilac sky. The road narrows in preparation to wind through a refreshingly modern city up ahead, the LED signs above bars and restaurants switching on for our arrival.

  Buildings stretch towards the sky all around us, the hum of civilisation seeping into me as hordes of people scurry from the revolving doors, eager to escape the stacks of paperwork and unrealistic demands of their bosses. A group of suits sprint over the crossing in front of my stationary vehicle, filtering into a strip club with their briefcases in hand, music pouring out into the street. Even before my life was upended, I never saw myself doing the mundane 9-5. I was a Hughes, only high expectations and a lavish lifestyle waiting in my future. Was. Now I’m stuck on fricking babysitter duty because three pinheads couldn’t complete one simple task, expecting me to be the brains and brawn in operation ‘Ray’s Revenge’.

  Driving through the vast city, I look longingly in the rear-view mirror as I exit through the other end and continue onto a quieter road. As much as I miss the high life, I can hardly drag a captive into a busy hotel lobby and ask them to store her somewhere dark and soundproof. The streetlamps become few and far between with each passing mile, drawing us into the darkness of no man’s land. Flicking my eyes across to the passenger seat, I find Meg curled onto her side sleeping softly.

  My first instinct is to swerve sharply to wake her up, but for some reason I refrain. Maybe I’m slightly fascinated at the way she keeps surprising me, her ability to adapt to unusual situations a trait I’ve never been able to perfect. My hand brushes her outstretched arm which is hanging loosely against the handcuff on the steering wheel, the coolness of her skin has me reaching to switch the heating on. Because if I’m only delivering one of the girls Ray asked for, I should make sure she hasn’t caught hypothermia on the journey. Yeah, surely that’s the reason.

  It’s another hour until I find an almost derelict town, a serial killer-worthy motel sitting on the edge. Turning into the gravelled carpark, I switched off the engine and slump back in my seat. The block of concrete before me has been thoughtfully decorated with graffiti, no doubt from the understandably bored kids who live nearby. The same door is repeated fifteen times across each of the two levels, not a single light on behind any of the curtains. I’d think this place was abandoned if it weren’t for the open door at the end, a grotesquely skinny woman milling about behind a counter.

  Itching to straighten my legs, I step out of my door and stretch my arms high above my head. After bending my back side to side, I slam the door shut and retrieve an emergency bag Rachel had packed in the trunk for me. I’m buzzing with excitement to be on my way back to her, like a lovesick teenager or a boy craving a motherly hug. Shouldering the backpack, I press the button for the trunk to close itself and cross carpark with long strides.

  “Hey, what about me?” Megs small shout barely reaches me, her fist bashing on the passenger window. I raise the key fob over my shoulder and lock the vehicle, the headlights flashing twice before going dark. The smile of my face widens as I step into the reception, if this small room with its peeling wallpaper and flickering bulb can be called that and pay for a room in cash. I don’t care about the décor, as long as my room is dust and bug free, I’ll just be happy for a quiet night to myself catching up on some dearly missed sleep. Staying under the same roof as Avery was hell, every waking and unconscious moment filled with her. Her laughter, her unbreakable spirit.

  Unlocking the door, I step into the darkened room to see a shadow hunched in the corner. “Hey mom,” I drop my bag on the plastic table and leave her to scratch at the walls. Reaching into the bag’s front pocket and grabbing the backup vitamins Rachel packed for me, I glance between them and the figure in the corner before throwing them back into the bag.

  It was easy enough to make the association between the small, pink pills and the hallucination of my birth mother since the last few times I took them, she disappeared instantly. And despite popular belief, I’m rational enough to know that wanting the illusion of her around is insane, but I find her presence oddly comforting. Or maybe I’m irrational enough to believe keeping her spirit with me will absolve me from killing her. Who the fuck knows anymore? I’m damned anyway.

  Treating myself to a lukewarm shower, cranking the dial to as hot as it will go, I take my time blow drying my hair so it remains pushed back when I run my hand through its silky-smooth length. The double bed in the centre of the retro-wallpapered room is calling to me, but first I need to eat. Dumping the damp towel in a heap on the floor, I dress in fresh clothes and shove a wad of cash into my back pocket before heading out of the door.

  There’s a man standing by the sedan, Meg is desperately trying to enlist his help by miming through the glass. I stand against a
pillar for a short while, watching the display with a smirk. When the game of one-handed charades becomes too pitiful even for me, I stroll across the space and save the hillbilly with the gormless expression on his face.

  “Hey man, don’t worry about her,” I gesture to Meg with my thumb. “She’s like my step-sister, sort of. You know what sibling rivalry is like.” His glazed eyes slowly pass between us, an overpowering herbal scent radiating from him. Oh, this is priceless, he’s high as shit.

  “Here, take this for looking after her for me.” I remove the money from my jeans pocket, pulling a few fifties out of the stack and handing it over easily. His tattered hoodie hangs low over some old-style army pants, the sneakers on his feet more like open toed sandals due to the gaping holes within them. “If you get someone to bring me dinner, anything fried and greasy, I’ll double it for both of you. Number seven,” I point back to the door, waiting for him to compute.

  “Seven,” he mumbles, his attention returning to the money in his hand as if he’s shellshocked. Not waiting for him to leave, I unlock the car and open Meg’s door, slipping inside to straddled her in the reclined seat.

  “Are you going to behave or am I going to have to gag you?” I ask, her eyes lighting with the challenge in my tone. I’m sure she’s seconds from spitting at me again so I clamp my hand over her mouth, muffling her protests. Using my free hand to twist the small key in the handcuff lock, I quickly grab both of her wrists as she tries to claw as me like I anticipated and pin them over her head.

  “One day soon, I’m going to destroy you. You’ll hurt more than you’ve ever known and beg me to take the pain away.” Her top lip peels back in a snarl as she says the words, the feral twist to her pale blue eyes awakening a hunger in me to let her bring her dark words to reality.

  “Mmmm, talk dirty to me,” I mock biting down on my bottom lip, angering her further. She bucks and thrashes beneath me as I laugh, genuine amusement trickling through me until I drag her from the car. Shoving her into the motel room, I close the door with my back and continue to push her into the bathroom. She tries to squirm out of my grip, but I expect every move she throws my way, her wrists trapped in one of my hands and my opposite arm locked around her waist. Raising her arms above her head, I grab the loose cuff and loop it over the shower rail before quickly securing it back in place over her free wrist.

  I slam the door shut between us, switching on the boxy TV and turning the volume as loud as it will go to block out most of her screams. Kicking off my sneakers and shedding my jeans, I lounge back against the headboard finally content. This time tomorrow, I’ll be back in Chicago with Rachel and a purpose. In the incredibly short time I’ve spent at Ray’s mansion, it’s become more of a home to me than the house I grew up in ever was. Because even as a child, some small part of me knew I wasn’t enough for my parents. There was always something missing, a void I couldn’t fill. But when Rachel looks at me, her whole world is centred in my eyes.

  I turn the TV off as a knock sounds at the door and I swear the hobo better not have touched my damn food. Casually swinging the door open, an actual delivery man stands nervously before me, his garishly green polo holding a matching logo to the one on his baseball cap and the pizza boxes in his hands. Despite having arrived on the moped parked next to my car, his eyes are equally as bloodshot, and his fingertips are stained yellow against the pizza boxes in his hands. A shadow to his left draws my attention to the original stoner and I give him a cheery thumbs up as he sways a little. Dishing out enough money for the pair to fund their disgusting habits for a month, I return to my position on the bed to flip open multiple boxes before noticing the shouting beyond the door has stopped.

  “What is that? Is it garlic?” Meg asks, the yearning in her voice amusing.

  “Oh yeah, a whole garlic flatbread alongside an extra-large pizza.” I goad her. She goes silent for a moment, so I take a bite and moan exaggeratingly.

  “Is it doughy?” She calls back, a smile pulls at my lips.

  “So damn doughy, and cheesy too,” I reply, not realising how much I’ve missed a bit of banter like this lately.

  “Are there any dips?” I can’t help but laugh, listing all the types of dips I’ve been supplied with. She must be starving too, the part of my conscience not wanting to take her to Chicago already on her death bed niggling me. Ray needs her for his revenge scheme, so I’d better ensure she makes it.

  Opening the door separating us with a slice in my hand, I take in her sagged body, only the restraints holding her upright in a tight vest and leggings. Her eyes immediately land on the pizza, but she doesn’t plead like I expected. Like I wanted. Unhurriedly taking a large bite, she licks her lips and swallows thickly. I continue eating, refusing to give her any until she’s at my mercy, begging for the scraps I’m willing to give her.

  The last bite of pizza goes into my mouth, only the curved crust remaining between my fingertips when she huffs and looks away. She’s headstrong, I’ll give her that, but stubborn as an ox too. Rolling my eyes, I walk over and hold the dry crust to her lips. Hesitating briefly, she gradually eases her mouth over the crust and bites off half, her lips brushing my fingers. Her eyes roll back and she groans loudly, my dick jerking at the sight. A memory from the Sinergy nightclub drifts to the forefront of my mind, Meg’s lithe body pressed between me and the railing, her mouth feasting hungrily on mine.

  The second she has swallowed, I shove the rest of the hardened dough into her mouth and stalk out of the room, once again shutting her out of sight. Note to self – never do that again. I must really be desperate if such a simple action has twisted me tighter than corkscrew. The pizza boxes across the bed no longer hold any appeal to me, my appetite shifting to something much leaner and brunette. Not to mention forbidden. Refocusing on the plans for tomorrow, I clear the bed and strip before slipping beneath the cover. Step one deliver Meg to Ray. Step two find Rachel. Step three get laid – not particularly in that order. But right now, I fist my dick in my hand and begin to pump furiously, giving my disobedient cock its one and only release for the girl behind the door.

  Dax

  Avery hasn’t uttered a word since slipping back into the passenger seat of Huxley’s Nissan, her expression closed off and unreadable. I shift uncomfortably, gripping the steering wheel with sweaty palms and the biggest impulse to poke the bear cub sitting beside me. It’s when she’s quiet like this I worry the most, needing to know what dark track her thoughts are leading her down. I’m well aware she hates me for my actions last night, but I won’t apologise for them. In fact, I would do the exact same all over again, except I would have dragged Meg into the panic room too if I’d known how it was going to play out.

  The moment Avery joined The Shadowed Souls, she had my vow to protect her always, but more than that, I needed to shield her. It was a necessity she’s wasn’t taken by those thugs, that she never felt any form of suffering again. But I’ve still failed on that front. She’s more precious to me than she’ll ever realise, her soul is calling to me to put it back together like a jigsaw and cherish until my dying breath. Call me selfish but being hated by Avery is better than not having her around at all. My heart squeezes every time I think of what could have happened, where she might have been taken.

  Leaving the small town far behind and flying down the freeway in the fast lane, the wind blows through my open window and bounces my hair around wildly. Huxley’s waves are also swaying in all directions in the back seat, in my rear view in the mirror is just his blonde locks creating their own tornado. The sign up ahead shows we’re approaching our turning so I slide over the empty lanes and veer off. Entering a thriving city of high-rise buildings and people in every crevasse, heavy traffic transports me back to civilization. Horns blare when the lead car fails to shoot through the green traffic light the second it changes, suited businesspeople in such a rush they play chicken dodging through the moving vehicles. My hands grip the wheel tightly as I’m forced to relax my speed, my chest a
ching to get to Axel.

  Navigating through winding streets and confusing crossroads, finally a grey building looms in the distance, several storeys high with a giant H in the top corner. An ambulance rushes past, the urgency of its siren twisting my gut. I pull into a recently vacated space by the sidewalk and switch off the engine, unable to keep the tremors rolling through my arms to drive the rest of the way safely. The ambulance swerves alongside the sliding automatic doors, nurses rushing out to assist and all I can do is watch. Scared to enter the building and hear if Axel made it or not. Avery suddenly slams her fist on the dashboard and turns to glare at me, her face a mask of rage and solely directed at me. Here we go.

  “We could have helped,” she growls. “No fuck that, we should have been down there, fighting with the rest of them.” Her beautiful features are taut, the weight of her accusation settling on my chest until it’s hard to breathe.

  “You would have got yourself kidnapped, harmed or probably both. Each of us knew what we signed up for.” I keep my voice calm and even, another trick I learnt from my father. He constantly blamed me for situations that were out of my control, using his fists to sate the anger he couldn’t contain. There was no use apologising, arguing or even crying. Remaining rational usually worked for him, but apparently not for Avery as her rage boils over and she throws a punch into my arm.

  “I doubt they knew they were signing up for you to hide me away like a coward.” Pushing her door open without looking, a car swerves to avoid Avery as she exits. The taxi driver screams at her through his window, driving away while she flips him off. Darting after her, I grip her shoulders roughly and force her onto the sidewalk. Pushing her back against the edge of an apartment building, I lean into her body to speak into her ear.