Ravaged by Them

by Kelli Callahan

  Maybe my father doesn’t have as much power as he thinks he does.

  “Daddy, what happened?” I walked out of my bedroom as he ascended the stairs. “I heard shouting…”

  “Nothing, go back in your room.” He waved me off and walked towards his study with purpose.

  Yeah, I think it’s better if I listen in to the call you’re about to make.

  I had never heard my father so furious. He called someone, but he never said their name. He tore them apart—said that Hannah’s arrest was going to make things very complicated now that Josef Weber was dead. All I could do was smile. It was a small victory, but the start of what I hoped would be many. The bricks of his castle, being pulled out one by one. I went back to my room before he hung up the phone because I didn’t want to be discovered. I had more names to research and I hoped there was more torment that I could cause before I was able to make a real move against my father.

  This guy looks interesting. Jeremy Hughes. He was an investor at Weber Acquisitions and my father mentioned him when he was talking to Hannah Clark.

  I needed some kind of dirt since all of the people my father did business with weren’t wanted by the police. I couldn’t end all of them with a single phone call. I had to assume that my father had stuff on his computer—it was always on when he had people over to discuss business. I just didn’t know how to get into it. There was always a screen up requesting a password when he wasn’t there. He had shared the combination to the safe in his office, but the only thing in there was money.

  I waited until he was in bed and walked down the hallway to his study. The computer was on—with the password screen up. I sat down behind his desk and stared at it. I tried my name, my mother’s name, and every person I could think of—none of them worked. Who would be important enough for my father to actually use as a password? I thought back to the conversations we had—then I remembered that he mentioned being in love once—with a woman that he knew before he married my mother. I didn’t know her name though. I used my cell phone to search, looking at some of the pictures from events that the Prescott’s held. I finally found one of my father, when he was younger—dancing with a woman at a charity ball. Isabella. I typed it into the computer and the screen flashed—I was in.

  “Anabelle, what are you doing in here?” My father’s voice surprised me—so much so that I nearly jumped out of his chair.

  Oh shit.

  Brody

  “This waiting is going to fucking kill me.” I put my head in my hands. “We’re almost out of booze—we don’t have enough food to last us much longer—and I gave Anabelle our fucking car.”

  “Maybe we should call your uncle and see if he can head this way.” Rourke looks over at me and shrugged. “Or we can try to go hunt down some wild animals with your gun.”

  “Wild animals don’t have booze,” I grunted under my breath. “Fuck, at this rate I might as well just start making prison wine in the bathroom. It’ll probably be fermented before we hear anything.”

  “Yeah. I’m starting to get worried.” Rourke nodded. “The fact she hasn’t sent the cops is a good sign—but I didn’t expect silence.”

  “She may be having second thoughts.” I sighed and shook my head. “She’s back in her castle now—maybe that put the pieces back together again.”

  “Nah. No way. She knows the truth about her father. She’s not going to fall in line and be his princess after finding out what kind of man he is.” Rourke stood and stretched out. “I think I’m going to go for a walk. Maybe that will get my mind off things for a little bit.”

  “Take the gun—just in case you see a deer or something.” I chuckled and walked over to turn on the television.

  Rourke headed out and I stared at the screen. All of the media attention seemed to be on the girl they called Doll Face—her real name was Madison Snow. Fitting, considering that her skin looked like porcelain. I didn’t care about her though. I just wanted an update on the situation that concerned me. Suddenly, I got my wish—just not in the way I expected. A headline came on about Hannah Clark. She had been arrested—at Prescott Manor. Hearing her name made my stomach twist into a knot. She was connected to Josef Weber. She was the sister of the guy he tried to have me kill.

  Fucking rich people. At least another one is getting what they deserve, but I don’t like how close this hits to home.

  I had no idea Josef Weber was in business with Adrian Prescott when I started working for him. That might have given me pause—especially after he saw Anabelle at our house. A realization swept over me as a stared at the screen. There was a very good chance Weber was the one who told Adrian Prescott about our relationship with Anabelle—perhaps it was revenge for my defiance when I refused to fall in line and be one of his soldiers. If that was the case, then the cascade of torment that came at us was my partially my fault. I tried to flush those thoughts of my head. Even if it was due to something I did, Anabelle was the one who made the choice to betray us.

  I guess she’s paid her penance and if she makes it right, I’ll forgive her for everything. I saw into her soul when we were in the woods—and realized that I cared about her more than I ever thought was possible.

  I was a barely more than a boy when I felt the first sting of betrayal. The girl I was dating in high school got pregnant and I assumed the baby was mine. I held her hand through the entire pregnancy, waited in the delivery room, and contemplated how I was going to ever be a father. Then the baby was born, and I realized it couldn’t be mine—not unless I had a relative in my family tree of African descent. Staring that child in the face and realizing that I had spent nine months preparing to change my life for a lie ate every bit of the emotions inside of me. My girlfriend’s confession destroyed what was left.

  I never found out who the father was—she wouldn’t tell me. In retrospect, that was probably a good thing. I would have had blood on my hands if I knew who she cheated on me with. I might have killed her too if I didn’t want to leave a newborn without a mother. It wasn’t his fault that his mother was a slut. That child wasn’t the only thing born that day—a monster was born inside me. An emotionless monster that loved to hurt—torment—and used women for pleasure without forming a connection with them.

  Until Anabelle.

  Maybe I always knew that she had stolen my heart, or maybe her betrayal just let the monster take over, so I could survive long enough to regain my humanity by looking into her beautiful emerald eyes. Being separated from her after feeling that bond tore at my gut and made me ache for something I never expected to feel again—love. I would have to share her, but that didn’t bother me. She had a connection with Rourke and he truly loved her. The three of us could have a future that was different than the fairy tale she grew up in—but it would be ours.

  That can’t happen until all of this is made right and Adrian Prescott realizes his baby girl has been taken from him. He’s no longer her daddy dearest and I doubt he’ll be the King of Chicago much longer.

  That’s a good thing.

  All kings eventually fall.

  Even the ones that think they’re untouchable.

  The next day

  Waking up the next day was as miserable as the one before it. Silence—which should have been a pleasant sound—but the cabin was truly starting to feel like it was a prison. I was going to have to call my uncle. What else could I do? We didn’t have a car and we were going to need more supplies. Rourke might have decided to start kicking his habits, but I enjoyed my vices. I needed more smokes, booze—or anything that would give me a buzz—and since Rourke’s nature walk didn’t result in him turning into a master hunter, we were going to need food. I couldn’t shake the sense of dread that kept building—the worry that something could go wrong. Anabelle might have been broken to the point that she was able to see her father for the man that he truly was, but that didn’t mean she was a match for the King of Chicago.

  I shouldn’t have let her go. Damn it. I thought I was doing t
he right thing, but now I’m starting to question my decision. Is this what love feels like? Worrying about someone? Wishing you could just hear their voice and know they’re alright?

  I got up out of bed and grabbed my burner phone. I placed a quick call to my uncle and asked if he could come by later with supplies. He agreed that he could make the trip, but it would later in the evening after he got off work. That was better than nothing. I could live off crumbs and ration what we had for one day. Rourke appeared to be on another one of nature walks since he wasn’t in the cabin, so I sat down in front of the television like I had done every single fucking day. I never cared much for it before I went to jail, but it was the only thing that could possibly provide insight into what was going on outside of our cabin—in the real world. Which is where I wanted to be again.

  That run-down house on the South Side would be a sight for sore eyes right now. Never thought I would miss that piece of shit. Hell, I wish I could walk into O’Malley’s and have a fucking drink. Even that would be better than sitting here on my ass staring at this fucking box.

  “Anything on the news?” Rourke opened the door behind me and stepped inside the cabin.

  “No.” I didn’t even look back at him, I just grunted. “I called my uncle. He’s going to bring us some more supplies this evening.”

  “Maybe we should just get him to give us a ride to the city.” Rourke sat down beside me. “We could hide out in the South Side. I’m sure the cops aren’t looking for us in every corner.”

  “I’d be too fucking tempted to drive a car straight through the gates of Prescott Manor and strangle Anabelle’s father myself if I was close enough for that to be a reality,” I growled under my breath.

  “I know what you mean.” Rourke nodded aimlessly. “We have to trust Anabelle though. She’s going to do the right thing and come through for us.”

  “Unless he figures out that she’s working against him. I don’t even want to think about what could happen if he realizes she’s not his little girl anymore.” I shook my head back and forth. “We should have just got a damn video of her retracting her testimony—sent it to the press. That would have cleared our name at least.”

  “They’d just say it was coerced.” Rourke shrugged. “Besides, what good would it do? We’d might not be running from the police, but we’d still be running—it would just be Adrian Prescott after us.”

  “I’d take my chances.” I shook my head back and forth. “That’s better than putting Anabelle in danger. If she was with me, I could make sure she was safe.”

  “It’s not just about us though—it’s never just been about us. She wasn’t ours when she came to the South Side. She was nothing more than a princess visiting our world. When this is all over, we’ll have a real future together—the three of us.” Rourke looked up at the ceiling and sighed.

  “I really hope your right.” I nodded.

  Otherwise, I’m going to hate myself for letting her leave.

  Later that evening, I heard a car on the road. I was pretty sure it was my uncle, but Rourke got the gun ready—just in case. Luckily, we didn’t need to use it. My uncle stayed for a little while, had a couple of drinks, and filled us in on all of the events going on in the South Side. It sounded just as bad as we left it when we were locked up, but with a bigger drug epidemic.

  Jacob Durst had started to make more moves and had taken out a few rivals that had started to push into his territory. He was recruiting and trying to expand his empire. It wasn’t much of a surprise. He had been trying to do that shit for years. One of his recruiting drives pulled Rourke into his operation, but I never wanted to do that shit. Maybe it would have been better than working for a guy like Weber, but the outcome would have been the same—eventually, someone was going to ask for a show of loyalty—and that meant pulling a trigger.

  After my uncle left, I stared at the screen and drank until I felt like I could go to sleep. The booze eased some of my frustration, but it wasn’t enough to erase the worry. The sense of dread was starting to consume me. I wasn’t sure I would be able to get another good night of sleep until Anabelle was safe in my arms—and Adrian Prescott was no longer the King of Chicago.

  I just hope his kingdom comes crashing down before my sanity unravels.

  Anabelle

  I was caught. Staring at my father from his throne—with his computer unlocked in front of me. Luckily, he couldn’t see that yet. The light illuminated my face, but it was normally lit up, even when it was on the password screen. I thought he was in bed, thought it was safe, and if he took a step, he would realize that I had figured out his password. I needed to think of something and I needed to think of it fast. He looked at me with curiosity on his face after he asked me why I was there.

  “Daddy…” I sniffled, a fake one—but good enough. “I couldn’t sleep—I had a nightmare.”

  I pushed my foot underneath his desk until I felt the power cord while I spoke. It was my only option. I wrapped my ankle around it, rolled the chair back, and yanked the cord out of the wall. At the same time, I burst into tears. A distraction—hopefully, one that would work and keep him from noticing that his computer went dark. I hopped up and ran to my father, wrapping my arms around him as quickly as possible. There was pause on his part—hesitation—then I heard him sigh. His arms squeezed me tight.

  “I’m sorry darling.” His hand moved to the back of my head and he started stroking my hair, trying to calm me down.

  “I just keep thinking about all the awful things they did to me. I thought I loved Rourke—I didn’t know he was a monster.” I unleashed a sob from my throat and buried my face into his shoulder.

  “Sometimes you don’t know people until it’s too late.” He exhaled sharply. “All I’ve ever wanted was to keep you safe—to keep you from ever meeting a man like that.”

  “I know. I’m—so—sorry.” I was full-fledged bawling, putting on the performance of my life—I could feel snot pooling in my nostril. “I should have listened to you. I should have—never gotten involved with a man like that. He—said things to me—promised me that he felt the same way.”

  My father released me from his grip. He was staring into the face of ultimate heartbreak, and it was all an act—a show to distract him from my plan. He didn’t see through the mask of pain I created. He put an arm over my shoulder and led me towards my bedroom. I had managed to survive. Maybe the King of Chicago did have a soft spot for his daughter—a soft spot that was going to be a good place for my dagger when the time finally came. Once I was in bed, he brought one of the pills that the doctor said would help me sleep. I pretend to swallow it and waited for him to leave—then I spit it out in my hand. It went in the drawer next to my bed—the same spot where all the others went.

  That was close. I have to be careful.

  The next day

  The encounter from the night before didn’t seem to change anything. My father had to have noticed that his computer was unplugged, but he never mentioned it to me. I hoped he would think it was an accident—possibly a worker that was cleaning his office. The plan might work once, but it wouldn’t work twice—so I couldn’t get caught in there again. I needed to get him out of the house so that I would have time to work. The problem was that my father never left Prescott Manor. It was his castle. He ran his company from his study and if a meeting needed to take place, they came to him.

  What would get him out of the house? Nothing short of a fire—maybe I can start one.

  I certainly had no intentions of burning Prescott Manor to the ground just to get the evidence I needed, but there was another fire I could start—one in his heart. I waited until it was dark and stole a phone from one of the workers. I needed to make an anonymous call, but I didn’t want the police at Prescott Manor—I wanted them as far away from my home as possible. I called in a tip—one about Brody and Rourke. I told the operator that I knew them from way back, and I had just seen them in the South Side—walking into O’Malley’s Pub. Then I w
aited.

  If the plan didn’t work, it would just be a few patrol cars that were sure to meet some resistance if they tried to get into O’Malley’s Pub. The people who went there to drink certainly weren’t pillars of the community. They would think the cops were there for them—and probably run when the red and blue lights showed up. I couldn’t seem too eager or question my father. If the police didn’t call him, then it would have been another failed endeavor. If they did—I would turn it into the opening I needed. About ten minutes after I placed the call, my father came walking towards my bedroom with a purpose in his step. I hid the smile that tried to form on my face.

  “Anabelle, I think we got them.” He smiled as he entered—a smile as big as the one I wanted to put on my own face.

  “You did?” I hopped up out of bed. “Where?”

  “Some pub on the South Side. I guess they went back to their roots. The next time this phone rings.” He held up his cell phone. “I expect to hear good news.”

  “I want to go!” I grabbed my jacket from the back of the chair near my desk. “I want to see the look in their eyes when they are arrested!”

  “Anabelle—I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He held up his hands. “I’ve made the proper arrangements. Once they’re in custody—they’ll get what they deserve.”

  A veiled threat, but a crack—he’s showing me the man underneath all that white armor he’s always pretended to wear.