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

by Abigail Cole

  Knocking lightly on the door at the end, Garrett whips his head around the door with a scowl like I was expecting. The pair are known for their afternoon naps, like a pair of cats that only wake for mealtimes. His pissed expression at me shifts when he sees the chaos happening over my shoulder and asks what’s going on.

  “I think Sharon is up to something. Keep Axel in his room tonight, I’m gonna find out what’s going on around here.” Garrett nods in agreement, muttering something that sounds a lot like a ‘thank you’ before slamming the door in my face. Deciding I must have misheard, I head back into my room to prepare myself for tonight.

  Avery is curled up on the bed with a cat nestled against her, soft purrs vibrating through the air with each stroke she smooths down its stripy spine. Her bright blue eyes are shining with unshed tears and staring at a spot on the far wall. I close the door as quietly as possible and join her on the mustard-coloured duvet, our foreheads touching. The cat, who’s black collar has ‘COMET’ printed across it in silver, stretches between us and paws at my stomach for attention. I scratch the soft patch between his ears, but my focus is on the beautiful girl with haunted eyes beside me.

  “Hey Aves?” I whisper, waiting for her hum in answer. “I just found out Sharon is still running the auctions like she used to, except with consenting young adults this time. Like the madame at a brothel. I’m going to head down soon to play along, and then fuck some shit up. If you need a distraction, you’re welcome to join me. We could have some fun,” a slanted grin takes root on my face. After a beat, a similar expression shifts into her features along with a cruel edge.

  “Let’s do it.” Comet gets the fright of his life as we both fly from the bed, jumping up with an arched back and hissing loudly. Leaping from the bed with a flick of his tail, I open the door so he can exit while Avery digs through the boxes filling half the room in search something for us to wear. On the third box she flicks open, she shouts ‘Aha!’ and pulls out a long, suit bag with multiple hangers poking out the top.

  Laying it across the bed, she unzips the bag and shifts through the stack of men’s clothes, picking out a sharp navy suit for me. After I take the hanger from her, Avery moves over to my bag and rifles through until she finds one of my generic black tops. I watch her curiously as she wiggles out of her pyjamas, standing before me gloriously naked and slips my top over her head and arms until it rests beneath her armpits and on her thighs. She then pulls each sleeve across her bust to make a criss-cross and tucks into the hem around her back. Donning the silver heels and jewellery from Sharon’s dinner party/blind date from hell, Avery instantly looks a million dollars and I’ll never look at that top the same way again.

  I quickly change into the suit, leaving the top buttons of the white shirt open beneath the waistcoat and run my fingers through my wavy hair. Not having any other option, I shove my feet into my white high-tops and shrug on the blazer. Avery turns back to me having tied her hair into a low bun and added a light dusting of make up to her face, looking ruthlessly determined to exact revenge on at least one tyrant tonight. I hear the footfalls of the others descending the stairwell outside and offer Avery my arm, opening the door and slipping into the crowd.

  The noise emanating from the ballroom is a powerful mix of enthusiastic chatter and bitchy whispers which I can hear before even entering. Arriving in the doorway, Avery hesitates and yanks me back a few steps. The smartly dressed teens around us take no notice, pushing past to ascend on the room of excitable women. Hands paw over them as they move through, the bidders eager to feel the goods before the auction begins. I flick my eyes to Avery’s, pulling her to the back wall of the corridor and bending to speak into her ear.

  “If you’ve changed your mind, we can- “

  “It’s not that,” she breathes against my neck. “I promised Axel I would never enter the ballroom. It seemed important to him…” her voice trails off, her gaze flicking back to the brightly lit room. Being head and shoulders above everyone else, I’m able to see the open set of French doors at the rear leading out onto an equally as packed terrace. Linking my fingers in hers, I guide her along the corridor and through yet another living room the mansion doesn’t need, exiting via a patio door at the back. Rounding the side of the building, we re-join the crowd and I smirk down at her.

  “Problem solved.” Her wide smile beams back at me just as Sharon steps onto a platform at the front. Not a hair is out of place, tightly tied back in a slick ponytail with the deep shade of red on her lips matching her tight bodycon dress. A microphone has been set up at the front of the stage and spotlights shine down on her so brightly, I’m positive she can’t see out into the crowd. The staff members I recognise from the kitchen, along with a dozen I haven’t seen before, have lined themselves along the wall to Sharon’s left. Their chests are puffed out proudly, the finest suits and cocktail dresses dripping from their slender frames.

  Sharon is too busy reciting a list of rules she clearly knows by heart to notice us amongst her rich friends while I try to think of a way to slyly ruin her evening. My brain snags on a particular piece of information, that she retains 25% of all winning bids to fund future auctions and an idea cements in my mind. I whisper the plan into Avery’s ear, and she suppresses a giggle as someone bumps into me roughly. I look around with a scowl but there’s too many women milling around to pinpoint who exactly wasn’t watching where they were going.

  The first willing candidate is called on stage, a heavily freckled guy of medium build with auburn hair which cause a small group of ladies in the right corner to giggle and bounce with anticipation. I point them out to Avery, and we veer off to approach the small group from either side. Sharon suggests the bidding starts at $15,000 and a plump woman in front of me gets ready to shoot her hand into the air.

  “Hey Aves,” I whisper shout across them, “wasn’t he the one that gave crabs to a whole group last week?”

  “Oh, I heard they were fleas and he got them from the cat. That guy sure loves pussy.” The women around us balk and gasp, quickly rushing away to filter the rumour through the crowd as Avery and I fall apart. Sharon calls again for the bids to start, her face dropping as no response comes. Shooing freckle face from the stage, she flaps her hand for the next girl in the queue to jump into the spotlight. A blonde with purple tints in the ends of her long curls bounces onto stage, her skimpy dress exposing her huge chest and tiny waist. Introduced as Vicky, she pushes her cleavage together while I wind my way to another part of the crowd.

  “Vagina wider than the Grand Canyon, that one.” I murmur loudly enough for a huddle to my left to hear. Not surprisingly, a flow of hushed whispers passes from one end of the crowd to the other and no bids are entered. Sharon stomps across the stage on her black heels, pointing to a girl further down the line and beckoning her onto the platform at once. The brunette is incredibly pretty, an eyebrow cocked over her doe eyes as she nibbles on her bottom lip suggestively.

  “Let’s start Felicity off at $10,000, shall we? She’s rather wild and enjoys sharing partners with a group,” Sharon’s voice rolls through the speakers dotted around the patio seductively.

  “Don’t forget how she passes out every time she cums, without fail. We had to call for an ambulance last time,” Avery speaks loudly with a broad American accent. Murmurs and questionable glances are passed around, no one bids on poor Felicity either. She runs off stage, holding her face in her hands but I can’t bring myself to feel bad. I’m too busy enjoying myself by ripping away the only thing Sharon cares about – money.

  “Moving on, a few of you might recognise Karen- “

  “Oh, not Chlamydia Karen,” I moan, not bothering to disguise my voice.

  “Whoever that is needs to report to me at once. There have never been any complaints with my volunteers, and they are all tested for STD’s on a regular basis.” There’s a defiant tick in Sharon’s jaw, but still no one raises their hand to bid. Silence falls over the gardens, only the sound of crickets filli
ng the empty void around us. “Well Daniel here- “

  “Cries when he cums,” Avery cups her mouth to shout. Holding a hand up against the glare, Sharon squints out into the crowd and demands whoever is ruining her auction to come forward. Edging towards the back of the terrace with Avery in tow, I notice many of the women shift backwards with nervous looks, eager to hear out opinions. Most of the ‘volunteers’ have understood tonight isn’t happening for them and scurried off, all except one.

  Top Knot steps onto the stage confidently, widening his stance and crossing his arms in a dare for anyone to challenge his reputation. Plenty of women around us sigh dramatically, clearly familiar with him and Sharon smirks knowingly.

  “Ahh, Seamus. Now here is a young man no one can dispute against. He has a perfect track record for satisfaction, always goes the extra mile and is especially well equipped, if I do say so myself. Since it’s been a slow evening, we will start the bidding at $50,000.” Every head in front of us spins around sharply, waiting for approval to bid. So many pairs of eyes are pleading for me to give the all-clear, but it’s not me that responds to their questioning stares.

  “Oh yeah, sure. Best night of my life,” Avery says, much to the delight of every woman around us. Their shoulders sag and they share relieved smiles. “Until he asked to do 69 without telling me about his rectal condition. I’ve never been able to get the overriding warmth of shit to leave the back of my throat.” An uproar of cries and gagging gives us the perfect cover to duck out, Avery grabs my hand and drags me through the masses. We don’t stop running until we spill into our room, slamming the door closed and rushing to change back into our pyjamas in case Sharon comes looking for a culprit.

  Collapsing on the bed, we roll around in complete hysterics, tears streaming from our ears and my wide smile beginning to hurt my cheeks. At one point, I think the infectious laughter will never end as one of us begins to stop, the other starts back up again. If screwing with Sharon wasn’t enough, seeing Avery full of life and happiness is everything. Eventually, we relax until only a few chuckles escape us now and again. Avery excuses herself to the bathroom, her grin still firmly in place as she slips out of the door.

  My eyes fall to the discarded suit jacket I left on the floor, something poking out of the pocket which has me rising from the bed to investigate. Pinching the sharp corner, I pull a cream envelope free with a frown. ‘Avery Hughes’ is scribbled across the front in an old scripted style of writing with ‘R.P’ printed over the seal on the back. I only take a second to consider if I should hand the letter over to Avery before deciding I need to know what it says first. I can’t risk her keeping information to herself that affects all of us, especially now I know she’s capable of stealing my car in the night and leaving without a word. I quickly tear the back open and yank out the letter inside.

  For the immediate attention of Miss Hughes,

  Seeing as you have been smart enough to evade my men on various occasions, I have come to the conclusion you are a clever girl. As such, I believe you will take the offer I am presenting you with this once. Your father stole my daughter from me, a crime which I vowed to see him equally punished for. However, I am nothing if not a fair man and seeing as Nixon has been blessed with two daughters, this is the choice I am giving to you now. Hand yourself over and I will ensure you and your twin a swift and painless death together. However, if you decide to remain hidden, Meg will suffer on both of your behalf’s and you will ultimately be free to continue your life. The choice is yours. You have until Monday evening to make yourself known at The Harbour Bridge Casino in Chicago or I will accept you have taken the selfish option.

  Yours Sincerely, Raymond Perelli.

  The door swinging open has me spinning around, hiding the letter behind my back until I can process what I’ve just read. Avery smiles at me sweetly, flicking the light off so we are plunged into darkness as she climbs into bed. I shift forward on numb feet, lowering myself into my makeshift bed on the floor and tuck the letter beneath my pillow.

  “Thanks for tonight Hux, I really needed that.” Avery breathes, rolling over to curl up on her side.

  “Sweet dreams angel,” I reply automatically. My mind is reeling at a hundred miles an hour, but one truth is blatantly clear. I cannot let Avery see this letter.

  Meg

  I remain curled on top of my sleeping bag, staring at the initials S.P etched into the stone wall, despite the continuous badgering from Nixon in the opposite cell. I have nothing to say, the fact he’s here is insult enough. Perelli is one step closer to fulfilling his master plan now. All I can do is lie here and hope Avery doesn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing it through. Surely there will come a time when he calls off the hunt and decides to put Nixon and I out of our misery, however long that may be. A week, a month, a year? It already feels like I’ve been trapped in this stone cell for an eternity, and after my failed escape attempt landed me in even more trouble, it’s inevitable I’ll only be leaving this place in a wooden box. As if I would be given such a curtesy, I imagine ground up and fed to the pigs would be more Perelli’s style.

  At least I know, regardless of my body being recovered, Avery will mourn me. She’ll most likely plant me a shrine capsule next to our mom in her back yard, if it’s ever safe enough for her to return. I’m just thankful to have been able to share a part of her life, to have spent every weekend building memories that will carry over to the afterlife with me. Even if we hadn’t known it, our twin bond cemented from the very first time we met. The shy, trembling girl I took under my wing and watched blossom before my eyes. If only she could do the same for me now.

  By giving up, I’ve failed her. I was always the one with the tougher exterior, but the horror I faced in the hidden cell has destroyed every wall I thought I had. His stale breath, his vacant different coloured eyes. The scar on his chest mocking me with Avery’s strength where I was floundering, unable to defend myself the way I thought I could. Clearly this is the fate I am due, one way or another this hidden dungeon to be the last place I will ever see.

  “Megan,” Nixon hisses at me once again. He hasn’t once asked if I’m okay, all of his focus on Avery, which has given me lesson 101 on ‘Life as Wyatt’. I get he’s not a proper dad to me, no matter what my DNA says, but still – I thought he’d at least attempt some useless small talk. Rolling onto my back with a sigh, I stare at the shadows cast over the ceiling by the outside lanterns. My tears have long since dried, two crusted streaks lining my cheeks. My body feels light and weighted down at the same time, an overriding numbness beginning in my chest and expanding until my arms hang limply by my side. “We need to find a way out of- “

  “There is no way out,” I admit, my bland tone hiding my sense of defeat. I tried and failed, but that’s not to say Perelli has won. There’s still one way I can ensure he feels cheated, my last opportunity to wipe the smug smile off his face and I’ve already put the wheels in motion with the untouched tray of muesli and yoghurt by the cell door. It’ll take ages and hurt like a bitch, but it’s the only part of my life still in my control.

  Eventually Nixon realizes he won’t get any more conversation from me and leaves me to wallow in my self-pity in peace. Scuffles on the steps come and go, the door hatch opens, and my untouched tray is replaced with another, concerned mutters are passed before the main door is slammed closed. My body clock is so out of whack, not knowing if it’s day or night, thunderstorms or sunshine. There could have been a nuclear missile sent to the moon or an apocalypse happening for all I know, while I lay silently forgotten in the dark.

  My eyes start to droop, exhaustion from doing absolutely nothing trying to pull me under. Drifting into a half consciousness, an ethereal image of Cathy awaits me. Her brown hair and cream chiffon dress billow in an imaginary wind, a welcoming smile on her perfectly painted lips. She stretches her hand out towards me but for some reason, I hesitate. I’m aware there’s nothing worth holding back for, but deep in my soul I feel like there i
s some unfinished business I need to take care of before I fully give in. Before I can delve into exactly what that is, footsteps before my door rouse me.

  The metal clang of my chain being shifted rings throughout my cell, light clinging to a figure who welcomes himself inside and closes the door back into place. Sliding my metal tray aside with his foot, I keep my eyes fixed on the ceiling as he shifts closer without a word. A thick, insanely soft blanket is laid across me and unfortunately my limbs are too weak to shove it off. I hadn’t realised quite how much of the floor’s icy touch had coiled itself into my skin, but the trace of warmth easing over me causes my body to shiver violently. Strong arms scoop me up like a rag doll and pull me into his firm chest, the solid beat of his heart beneath my cheek.

  I don’t want to like it, I shouldn’t let myself remain, but I must be weaker than I thought. After tugging the blanket into the shape of my body, his hands hold me gently like the most precious belonging in the world. Because let’s face it, even though he is the reason I won’t ever see daylight again, Wyatt’s the first and last man I’ve ever felt a genuine pull to and for that reason, a part of me will forever belong to him. Even if I do want to take a spade to his stupid, pretty face right about now.

  “Things aren’t…as clear as they were when I brought you here,” he whispers beside my face, his lips too close to my lips.

  “Was that meant to be an apology? Because it sucked harder than me, and as you know that’s saying something.” My voice is raspy, a roughness to my throat akin with swallowing a shitload of sand. His intoxicatingly manly scent wrapping around me in a second embrace makes my head feel light as I inhale deeply. He is sin personified. The type of character an ordinary girl would run screaming from, yet I’m being drawn closer. Like a moth to a flame, I want to be scorched and consumed by his touch.