by Lucy Smoke
tingling. “I’m right fucking here; if you’re so fucking curious about what I’ve
said, you can ask me.”
The man turns towards me and I pause, recognizing him. But where
from? No, it’s not that I recognize him, it’s that he resembles someone I
know. Abel.
I grit my teeth. “You must be Lionel.”
His eyebrows rise. “You know who I am?”
“You look just like your son,” I reply. “Does he know that you’re here?
Does he know what you’re doing?”
Lionel Frazier scoffs. “That stupid boy?” He shakes his head. “No. He’s
safely back in my mansion, doing what he’s told, as he should.”
I cough out a laugh. I must have inhaled more smoke than I thought
because my throat and lungs still ache. “I’m sure he is,” I say sarcastically.
“I don’t appreciate your tone,” Lionel says sharply.
“Yeah?” I try to clear my throat to no avail. “Well, I don’t like being
raped, tortured, almost killed, and then tased and kidnapped. You’ll have to
fucking forgive me if I can’t quite give a shit about you liking my tone or
not.”
“Mouthy, aren’t you?” Lionel comments as he takes a step closer to me
and reaches up, removing first one glove and then another. “Not surprising.
Your mother was quite a mouthy bitch when she was your age.”
“I’m nothing like her,” I snap.
Lionel removes his other glove and passes both off to Ace, who takes
them and then moves back. His face is an expressionless mask while Lionel
hovers over me with a gleeful look in his eyes. “You’re prettier than she was,
though, by far,” Lionel comments.
I scowl at him. “Aren’t you planning on killing me?” I demand. “Why are
you wasting time fucking talking?
He grasps my chin and tilts my head back. His fingers tighten until I can’t
keep my mouth shut because of the pain in my jaw. “Unlike your stupid
father, I don’t do anything without my partner by my side. Elric is on his
way; not to worry, little girl. Your life will end soon. We should’ve known
better than to leave this to insufficient idiots.”
My eyebrows raise and my gaze flicks to Ace. Catching my deviated
attention, Lionel releases me and chuckles. “Yes, I mean Ace. He’s good at
his job when you tell him what to do, but he’s far too fucking stupid to be of
use anywhere else. He needs a master to hold his reins right.” Ace’s jaw
clenches, but he doesn’t respond to offer anything to counter this man’s
claims. It’s kind of odd to me. Lionel is a good half a foot shorter than Ace
and from the looks of it several pounds lighter. Ace is dangerous. Ace is a
master in the craft of torture—having experienced it first hand, I know. What
the hell could Lionel have on him that makes him act like a subservient
puppy?
“If you ask me, I’d say you’re the one who’s far too fucking stupid to be
of use,” I say. “You need someone else to do your dirty work for you.”
The blow lands against the side of my face before I even see his hand
move. A cough spews out along with flying spittle just before the pain hits
my cheek. Blood fills my mouth and I lick my dry lips. The split he created
right in the corner of my mouth stings and burns.
“I don’t believe anyone asked you,” Lionel’s voice is hard, cold. “But I
do not appreciate insolence, little girl.”
I laugh. “That’s too bad,” I say. “‘Cause I’m fucking full of it.”
He shifts in front of me and arches a brow, a smirk appearing on his lips.
“You’re quite cocky for someone who knows she’s about to die.”
“Death. Life. Who gives a shit?” I ask. “But if you think I’ll die easily
enough, you’re fucking crazier than you look.”
“Am I?” He seems amused for some reason, and that more than anything
sets me on edge.
I’m pissed, growing angrier by the second. My skin feels like hundreds of
bees are crawling through it. Like the phantom of the earlier voltage that Ace
shot through me is still lingering on my flesh. My vision blurs slightly and I
shake my head to get rid of it. It doesn’t completely eradicate the fuzziness,
but it does clear my head.
“You wouldn’t be here right now if I were easy to kill,” I point out,
turning my cheek and spitting out a wad of saliva and blood.
He frowns down at the collection of fluids on the floor. “Vulgar,” he
snaps.
I smile. “That’s me.”
A door somewhere opens and more footsteps enter. “Well, not to worry,
you won’t be around much longer,” Lionel replies as he looks up when the
footsteps stop somewhere behind me.
I hate that I can’t fucking turn around and see who it is. Hate the fucking
vulnerability in being tied to this damn chair, but I can guess who our newest
guest is. Especially when Lionel’s face loses all expression and he takes a
step back.
“What are you doing?” a deep baritone inquires.
“Waiting for you,” Lionel replies.
“Well, I’m here now,” he says. “There’s no need to wait any longer.”
Lionel frowns. “Where have you been?”
The man approaches, circling around the side of my chair, and my eyes
widen. Holy shit, the guys really do take after their fathers. Because this man
looks like a carbon copy of Braxton—except, if possible—even fucking
bigger. The only difference is that his hair is slightly lighter and he’s dressed
in a pressed, pinstriped suit.
“I had to deal with a separate matter,” the man I suspect is Elric Smalls
says.
“Your son?” Lionel inquires.
Elric doesn’t say a word, but he does nod.
“Are the boys going to be a problem?” Lionel asks.
“I can handle my son as long as you can handle yours,” Elric replies
before looking down at me. Unlike the somewhat wicked glint in Lionel’s
gaze, this man … has no expression. No warmth. No excitement. No fear. No
anything. He looks devoid of all emotion. Completely empty with eyes like a
corpse. It makes my heart pound against the inside of my chest.
My lashes flicker as I look between the two of them. “Fine, then,” Lionel
says. “Let’s get this over with.”
When Lionel pulls out a gun from behind his back, lifts, and points it my
way, I feel something click into place. No—I don’t feel a click, I hear one.
Then the soft puff of a silencer. Only, as I stare at the gun in Lionel’s grasp, I
realize it doesn’t have one.
I look up just as Ace dives to the side. A red dot appears on Lionel
Frazier’s forehead before it leaks down between his eyes. The gun slips
between his fingers and lands on the ground as he slumps over.
“Shit,” Ace hisses.
“Get the girl,” Elric commands. “Get to the basement.”
Before I understand what’s happening, the glass windows to the far back
of the massive room shatter, and more gunshots come pouring through. They
stop though as Ace dives on top of me and circles my back. He cuts through
the ropes pinning me down and then holds the knife against my throat—my
fucking kn
ife. I grit my teeth. “Don’t fucking try anything,” he hisses in my
ear as he and Elric hold me in front of them as they back towards another
hallway.
“Did you lead them here?” Ace demands.
“Watch your tone,” Elric says coldly, shooting him a venomous look.
“They must have been lying in wait.”
“It’s Dean,” I say. “And the guys—they fucking figured it out.”
“Shut up,” Ace replies, shoving me down a flight of stairs.
I gasp as my legs leave the fucking stairs and I tumble down, slamming
into the opposite wall. My head bangs into something hard, something
concrete. Fuck. The world’s spinning. I pant, putting one hand against my
temple, but when I feel a masculine hand wrap around my bicep and try to
pull me back to my feet, I catch the bastard, spin, and slam my knee into his
fucking crotch. Ace wheezes out a breath and falls to the ground. I jump over
him and rush back up the stairs.
I don’t make it three steps, however, because a massive paw grabs the
back of my neck and squeezes, ripping me back and tossing me from the
staircase into another room—this one, an empty unfinished basement with a
stone floor and four windowless walls.
“How the fuck are you gonna get out of here?” I demand. “You’re caught
like a rat in a trap.”
“That doesn’t concern you.”
Panting, I get to my feet. Something sticky drips down the back of my
neck. Fuck, I think. I hit my head harder than I originally thought. Ace
coughs as he places a hand on the side of the wall and leverages back onto his
feet.
“You fucking bitch,” he hisses.
“Enough, Ace,” Elric snaps. “Go back upstairs and give the boys
something to focus on while I finish up here.”
Ace staggers to the side and then swings his head towards Elric. “Are you
insane?” He gapes at the man. “They’re going to kill me.”
“Yes, I suspect they will,” Elric reaches into his jacket pocket and
retrieves another gun.
“I’m not going back up there just to die,” Ace argues.
Elric sighs and turns, lifting the gun and pointing it his way. “Die up there
or die down here, it makes no difference to me. I recommend you go upstairs,
however, and follow my orders. Perhaps if you survive, I’ll forget this bit of
rebelliousness. Unless you want your final actions to cause an issue for a
friend of yours…”
Ace’s face goes cold—the same face I recall when he tortured me.
Though I can tell it takes effort for him, he stands straighter and turns back
towards the stairs. “Understood,” he says, disappearing back up to the dark.
The second he’s gone, I know Elric is going to turn that gun on me. I
don’t give him the chance. Placing one foot firmly on the ground, I inhale
and then launch myself across the space towards him. My fingers grip the
gun, reaching down and hitting something as the magazine clip comes free.
His finger squeezes the trigger and I nearly fucking fall on my ass when a
bullet pings into the concrete floor an inch from my foot, but that’s good.
There’s no magazine and nothing in the chamber now. I may not be able to
wrestle the damn gun from him, but he can’t shoot me with no bullets.
Elric’s free hand slams into the side of my face, knuckles crunching
against my cheekbone. More blood hits my tongue. Stars dance in front of my
vision. One whole side of my face is hot. My vision fades completely for a
moment and my knees hit the ground.
“Ava!” Footsteps sound on the staircase. I turn just as my sight returns to
see Dean launch himself off of the bottom step and slam into Elric. The two
tumble to the ground. I hear the click of Elric’s gun and then an irritated
curse. The magazine lays on the floor several feet away. I struggle to get back
to my feet, only to be knocked back as Dean comes flying my way. His back
hits my stomach and the two of us fall in a tangle of limbs as the last of the
air in my chest flies out.
I cough. “Dean…” I gasp, wheeze. Can’t breathe. Air. His hands find my
shoulders as Dean gets back to his feet and lifts me to mine, tucking me
behind him.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I think. I’m not fighting. One knee
buckles and I look down, realizing my pants are torn and blood is leaking
from an open wound right over my knee. I stare at it, expecting it to hurt, but
all I can feel is the fire in my chest.
“Are you okay?” Dean asks.
“Yeah…” I lie through my teeth, reaching up and squeezing his arm more
to keep myself standing than to give him reassurance.
“You should have taken the hint, boy,” Elric snaps as he steps forward,
and my eyes widen as he leans down and picks up the gun that Dean had
dropped in the scuffle, dropping his empty useless one. “You should have
stayed away and let us finish this business that should have been taken care
of nineteen years ago.”
46
AVALON
NO.
I see it before it even happens and my whole body rebels against it. No, is
all I can think. No, please. Anything but that. Anything but him.
The thing about the universe, about people, though, is that they often
don’t take your desires and needs into consideration. The universe doesn’t
understand that without him, I’ll be as good as dead. An empty vessel.
Without him, I’ve got seconds to live. Seconds that will be altogether too
goddamn long because they’ll be in a world where he no longer resides.
The universe doesn’t care. It’s indifferent.
So is Elric Smalls as he lifts the gun and pulls the trigger without even a
hint of hesitation. Even though we all know who his true target is— me— it’s
not me he’s shooting at. It’s Dean. Because there is no place that I could ever
be where Dean would not be right alongside me, in front of me like the stupid
bastard that he is. Neither in life nor in death. The whole world slows as he
shifts further in front of me, and I see it when the bullet hits him. His body
jerks, slams backwards as his spine hits my chest, and a sudden pain enters
my ribcage.
“No!”
At first, I think I’m the one screaming the word that’s ricocheting around
the inside of my mind, but that isn’t the case. The voice screaming it is far
too masculine. Then I see him. As I fall backwards, Dean’s weight too heavy
to hold up on my own as he slumps to the ground, Braxton tears down the
staircase. When his father turns the gun on him, Braxton doesn't even flinch;
he pulls the trigger, and Elric's gun goes flying.
Elric releases a low grunt and grasps his hand as blood drips onto the
unfinished basement flooring. Braxton doesn't take the easy way out, though.
There's a bruise on the side of his face and it only heightens the molten fury
in his eyes as he launches himself off the bottom step, his speed far more
surprising than anything else as he barrels straight into his own father and lets
his fists fly, his own gun skidding to the side, forgotten.
My eyes go down to the man in my arms. Dean’s face is pale, splattered
with his own blood. Hell, I’m covered in it too. I can feel it leaking through
his back all over my lap and onto my chest. I shift him, moving to the side,
my fingers slipping in all of the red that surrounds us. I lift my hand as if
staring at someone else’s limbs. It’s trembling so badly it feels like the whole
world is experiencing the worst earthquake in history. That’s not it. It’s just
me. I’m the only thing shaking. Fear makes people do crazy things. It wreaks
havoc on the body as well as the mind. Fear can make you lose your sight,
your hearing, your rationale, your fucking mind if you’re not careful.
Before Roger Murphy had well and truly fucked me—both physically and
mentally—I’d thought I understood the emotion of fear. I’d lived in the
shadow of it all my life.
I hated Patricia, but I was afraid of being abandoned by her. I hated my
life but feared death. If I’m being honest with myself, when Roger had finally
raped me, it’d almost felt like a dam had burst, almost as if I’d been walking
through life with shades on and clogged ears and as soon as it had happened,
poof—I could hear and see crystal clear again.
I’d gotten so used to the murky waters of life that I hadn’t realized it was
all so gray and muddy. But every shove of my face into that gross trailer
vinyl had driven home the reality. It was all bound to happen one way or
another. It was, in a way, fate.
I’d tried running from it. Tried hiding. Tried fighting.
Then Roger Murphy happened. Lots of women are raped and I’d always
known it could happen to me, but when it finally did … it hadn’t felt real.
I know I’m not the only one who’s suffered. Yet still … the after effects
of it left me in an isolated mindset. Because in several dark, lonely hours
standing under the shower in the Havers dormitory, I’d felt like the only
person on the planet that had ever experienced the feelings of violation,
disgust, and rage that welled within me.
Questions had raced through my mind: Why me? Why did it have to
happen? Why did he do it? What was I going to do now?
Those damn unrelenting questions drove me damn near crazier than the
actual action ever had. I, at least, had one thing going for me—unlike so
many of the others, I had actually killed the man who thought he could take
