by E. S. Carter
Automatic weapons fire from further down the wide landing. The head of a small child peeks out from around an open door, her haunted eyes scanning the area for any means of escape.
Grim dives past me and launches himself at the girl, just as two of Alec’s men round the corner, rifles raised, target set.
They aren’t quick enough, though, and my brother has the eye of a sniper. Both men fall to the ground without discharging their guns. The small girl whimpers as Grim sweeps her up into his scarred arms; his muscles bulge with horrific tattoos depicting death and torture creating a bizarre juxtaposition next to the bruise mottled skin of the innocent young girl who clings to him like he is her saviour.
Without looking at us, he charges down the stairs, ushering the girl into the arms of the men breaching the hall’s front entrance. Demanding that they get her “the fuck away from this hellhole.”
We keep moving, eyes alert, all senses ready for attack. When we reach the upper floor and Alec’s holding room, the scene before us is enough to turn even my hardened stomach.
Body parts of both young and old, litter the floors. Blood covers every surface turning the air unbreathable with its thick coppery taste. Those who are beaten, and tortured to the brink of death but are barely alive, huddle in corners or lay strapped to tables and benches.
But there is no Alec, and there is no army.
All trace of the devil himself is gone.
Orders are barked to the Forces to tear apart Craven Hall and to bring me the old king, dead or alive.
I wanted to be the one to rip his heart from his chest but watching the tears of a mother, holding the lifeless body of her child, changes me.
I just want him dead.
I’ll exact my revenge on his cold carcass.
I wait in the darkness.
The black tomb of the hidden alcove steals my senses. No noises filter down through the ground to give any hint to what’s happening above me.
I’ve turned off my flashlight on the slim chance someone else stumbles across this passageway.
All I can see is black, and all I can hear is the frantic beating of my heart.
How long I stand, I couldn’t say. Cole told me to wait no longer than thirty minutes yet left me with no way to tell the time.
My body numbs with the pressure to stand still. My hearing is on high alert just waiting for any sound, any signal of my husband returning to me.
My husband.
What a foreign concept that was to me a few days ago. I’d expected to be used, abused and tossed aside by the man that my father was grooming to be his heir. I could never have dreamed up all that has happened since our early evening nuptials.
My mind drifts back to the crowds that watched us, hungry for a glimpse of Cole Hunter devouring his new prey.
How many days had it been since I watched him kill a man with a joint of frozen meat? How many days since he stripped me of my wedding dress and threatened to sodomise me?
In this silent darkness, I couldn’t say.
It feels like weeks, even months maybe, despite it being mere days.
In my captivity with him, I have found freedom.
In claiming me, he has set me free.
My body shivers, always craving his touch. He has yet to take me fully, and I am now strong enough to admit that I want it. That I want him.
He is darkness.
I have no misconceptions about the man for which I yearn. No expectations of love and romance. Of sun-soaked picnics in the park, or strolling hand in hand, barefoot on some tropical shore.
I know I commit myself to the darkness by wanting him. I know I taint my soul with my acceptance of all that he’s done and all that he is, and for the first time in my life, I welcome it. I welcome his shadows, inviting them to eclipse any of the light I carry within me. Not caring if in doing so I’ll forever be snuffed out.
In tenebrosity, there is protection.
In lightlessness, there is a strength.
And in submission, there is power.
Cole bestows all these gifts upon me and more.
The slightest sound penetrates my musings.
The shuffle of feet across the stone floor.
Closer.
Coming closer.
It’s Cole; it must be.
Or maybe it’s Luke or even Grim.
Should I turn on my light and guide their way?
No. Wait. Wait for a sign that it’s a friend, not foe.
I’ll use my gift; I’ll see them before they even reach me.
That’s the thing with auras, I don’t need light to see the colours of a person’s soul. It’s almost like they are lit from within, the colours visible in water, or darkness.
Black and red begin to swirl faintly around my feet. The colours deepening into thick clouds the closer the footsteps get.
I’d recognise those colours anywhere. They can only belong to one man.
Before my brain has caught up my body reacts, propelled by its constant need for my husband’s presence.
I step out from the alcove and straight into the path of the oncoming footsteps.
Our eyes meet, illuminated by the light from his mobile phone that he’s using as a guide.
My mismatched blue and green hit his deep ocean blues. So dark they almost appear black in the dimness of this underground rat run.
His instant shock at my sudden appearance morphs into a wicked grin. A smile that transforms the face of my father into an evil I’ve never encountered before. Never during my entire life have I seen the full force of his malevolence etched onto his features so openly. It’s like a mask. Only now I am looking at his true self. The mask he previously wore of indifference and slight cruelty was for show. This is the man whose blood runs through my veins. This is the man who stole the only person ever to love me and turned them into road kill. And judging by the sick gleam in his eyes, I am to be his next victim.
“Daughter of mine. What a pleasant surprise it is to find you here. Hiding in the dirt, waiting for your husband to claim my head.” The nefarious grin on his face morphs into something even more sinister.
I take a step back, my body hitting the rough stone wall with a thud that makes him chuckle.
“Oh, Faye. Haven’t you learned by now that you cannot escape me, the only way you get to leave is if I throw you away, discard you like trash, just like I did your sweet, sweet mother.”
“Leave, run while you can before Cole comes for me. You’ve managed to evade him so far, why risk it for me. Like you said, I’m trash. I’m worthless.” My words are strong but my voice is weak. He shakes his head, mocking my faux courage, forcing me to shrink back further to avoid his touch.
He steps forward, the glint of metal in his other hand shining against the light from his phone.
“Oh, Faye. That’s where you’re wrong. You’ve always carried a price and right now you are invaluable.” Another step forward and I see it. His gun. Pointed straight at me, his only child.
“The very fact he brought you with him shows your value.” He lets his eyes roam over my body and I tremble, the motion too intimate between father and daughter.
“Standing before me without a mark on your pale skin, tells me everything I need to know. You’re your mother’s child, Daughter. She once seduced a beast and it seems you’ve managed to do the same.”
He presses the muzzle of his gun between my breasts.
“That makes you priceless. Now, be a good girl and escort your father to the exit. We are going on a journey, you and I, and as my only companion, I can promise you an enjoyable time.”
He’s lost it. The last scrap of his humanity, if he ever had any, has gone. His eyes are filled with the promise of torture and pain.
He runs the tip of his gun under the swell of my left breast in ever decreasing circles until he pushes it hard against the soft flesh of my nipple, forcing me to cry out in pain.
“Hush, now, Faye. Don’t you worry about what will come, ju
st get us out of here before I paint these walls with your blood and leave your pretty corpse as a parting gift for your dear husband.”
Gripping me by the tender skin between my neck and my shoulder, he pushes me along the narrow corridor towards my inevitable doom.
If I leave here with him, I’m dead. Or worse.
My mind races with fanciful ideas of leading him to a dead end even knowing that would end badly for me.
If I can lure him in the wrong direction, it might give Cole or someone else the chance to find him before he makes good on his escape.
“Nuh-uh-uh, don’t even think about it, daughter mine. I may have only walked these corridors a handful of times as a child, but I will know if you try and lead me into a trap.” His hand squeezes tightly on the soft muscles leading to my neck, while the muzzle of his gun thrusts between my shoulder blades.
“Take a left here, and then the third right. I may be old, but I’m not stupid. I foiled your husband’s foolish plot, after all. Tell me, how many years has he thirsted for my blood?”
When I don’t answer he continues, “Likely since the day I fucked his mother and sent the videotapes to his father. The Hunters never did like to share.” He tuts softly, “Such a shame to waste a woman with the beauty of Melinda. She would have made a fine prize instead of your whore of a mother. Still, Hunter may have fooled the dumb bitch who birthed you into believing he’d save her, but we both know who won that game.”
He leans into my ear, his grip on my flesh tighter, the barrel of his gun bruising my back, “That’s the thing, Faye. I always win. I’ve incited wars, financed mass genocide, and had every powerful man in Britain in my pocket. Cole was foolish to ever think he could-“
“Craven!”
The ungodly roar of my family name comes from far behind us. Echoing off the walls and landing straight into my gut.
Cole.
“Time to move faster, child. It seems your husband is missing you.”
I stumble in an attempt to slow us down, but my father grips hold of the back of my neck and shoves me forward.
“Don’t make me shoot you, not yet. We’ve come so far, young one. Let’s not stumble at the final hurdle. If you fall again, I’ll just wait in the darkness and kill your new husband on sight. Then, you will come with me without any obstructions. So do as I fucking say and move.”
He punctuates his final word with the cold metal of his gun rammed into my ribs.
Within moments we are in the bunker, the metal door set into the stone wall is slammed shut, and my father drags a water barrel from the corner of the room and wedges it behind the door in an effort to slow down my pursuing husband. Then with a flick of the gun, he motions for me to begin climbing.
I scramble from the hatch, my knees landing heavily on the hard ground of the paddock, my father just a second behind.
“How fortunate. It’s like they knew we were coming.”
He drags me up by my hair and tugs me towards the waiting vehicle. The car Cole left to ensure my safety has now turned into a convenient escape for the madman that is my father.
He forces me into the driver’s seat with a gun to my temple. We pull out of the field at speed, and a glance in my rear view mirror highlights the three men that pour from the open hatch.
Cole, Luke, and Grim.
Luke raises his gun and fires round after round, all of which glance off the armoured vehicle like small pebbles being pinged against a granite wall.
My father twists in his seat and laughs at the fast disappearing forms of the only three men that could save me.
My heart engulfs my chest, clawing at my ribcage in an effort to break free. It mourns not for its owner, but for the man left behind in the dust who has been denied his revenge.
If I am to suffer, so be it.
I will be both vengeful and executioner, even if I have to dig my own grave.
That’s the funny thing about revenge. It can make a killer out of anyone.
“He’s not here, Sir. The entire place has been searched, and all his remaining men captured or killed. No sign of Alec Craven.”
Fury erupts in my veins and my beast roars at me to tear out the throat of the man before me. The man who dares tell me we have lost Alec Craven. Again.
I almost rip off the hand that lands on my shoulder, spinning around in time to come face to face with Luke’s calm façade.
He’s anything but calm, but nobody other than me would be able to tell.
“The library.”
Just two words.
Two fucking words I should have thought sooner.
Faye.
She’s in there, waiting for me.
Waiting where I told her she would be safe.
Fuck.
I.Will. Kill. Him.
“Get the survivors to Anne, make sure the team of Doctors is there waiting. Don’t follow me.”
I sprint from the hallway dodging men carrying stretchers full of dead and injured. When I get to the library, I see the secret door fully closed.
That fucker is in there with Faye.
Fuck. She never told us how to open the latch from this side. We never closed it entirely when we emerged, but now that it’s sealed I need to find the key to reopening it.
My eyes frantically scan the room before I stride to the bookshelves and start tearing down rows upon rows of first editions, launching them over my shoulder, praying to find the key that opens that door.
Nothing.
I spin around in wild circles, my eyes landing on every surface until they fall on the large desk. With one swoop of my arm, everything that sits on top is thrown to the floor.
Still, the secret door doesn’t open.
Placing my palms flat on the mahogany desk, my head drops and my chest heaves. The anger in my veins screams at me to destroy.
“Brother.”
I do not move at Luke’s address.
His voice gets closer, followed by the sound of another person entering the room. I ignore them both, my fingers curling into the wood, my short nails gouging the shiny surface trying hard not to lash out at my only kin.
“Grim, find the latch.”
Clanging and banging ensues while I stand defeated, impotent and useless.
A deep groan is accompanied by the words, “Found you, you little fucker.” And I immediately come to life, my senses on overdrive, my head spinning with a red haze.
My head springs up, my eyes landing on a grinning Grim, his hand pulling down on a candlestick, his eyes fixed on the door he’s just exposed.
“He’s mine.” My voice is feral, even to my ears as a preternatural growl emits from my chest. I am not in control now, the beast born of my mother’s blood is.
“Craven!’ I bellow. My feet heavy on the ground as I pound through the narrow passageways following her scent like a rabid dog.
We crash out of the hatch door just in time to see the vehicle I left for Faye, peel out of the field in a cloud of dirt. Alec Craven’s smug grin burning into my face as he makes his getaway.
“Get me a car, now!”
I hear Luke shouting demands into his earpiece, the words a jumble of sounds unable to pierce the blood rushing to my head.
He’s taken her from me, piercing my blackened heart, evoking emotions I thought had long ago died out.
I am incapable of caring, of empathy, of love.
I am well versed in the language of death, though.
My silent vow as we watch Faye and her father speed away: The sins of all fathers will be extracted in flesh.
“Take the bridge. I have a helicopter waiting less than a few miles away.”
The bridge.
The symbol of all that was once taken from me sits on the back roads a couple of miles away from Craven Hall.
The barrel of his gun grinds against the side of my head. “Put your foot down, Faye. You wouldn’t want me to think you’re trying to give them time to catch up with us.”
I grit my teeth, my
eyes scanning the road ahead for any possible way to kill him even if it kills us both.
“I’ve only ever driven around the grounds of Craven Hall before. My father liked to keep me prisoner, so I apologise for my lack of suitable skill.”
He laughs, stretching his legs out before him in a lazy, relaxed motion. “You’re trying to rile me. It won’t work, child. You should know by now that I am the master manipulator, while you are just the daughter of a whore. It surprises me that your husband allows you to talk back. I assumed he would’ve kept you on a shorter leash than I ever did.”
I swerve violently to avoid a large pothole; my father’s eyes are on my face, so he sees the manoeuvre as a test of his patience.
In one quick movement, he removes the gun from my temple and thrusts it between my thighs, pressing the hard metal roughly into my most delicate flesh.
“Don’t fuck with me, Faye. You have no idea the ways in which I can kill you. Death would be a sweet reprieve to the horrors I can inflict on your body. Such a shame I gave Cole your innocence. Such a valuable gift he has proved himself undeserving of receiving.”
I keep my face neutral yet I still somehow betray myself.
“Well, isn’t that an exciting development,” he leans in and begins to stroke the steel of his gun up and down my sex.
“Cole Hunter has yet to spill your virgin blood. How impotent of him and how delicious for me.”
I clamp my thighs tightly around his hand and his weapon, unable to stomach the falsehood of being unaffected by his vile touch.
“Get your filthy hands off me.”
He laughs once more. “Oh, how you sound like your mother. She would often beg for my cock over the implements I preferred to use to fuck her.”
My stomach churns, bile creeps up my throat at the thought of everything my mother must have endured. Her death, I can see now, set her free. I pray that my end does the same for me.
“The fun we will have, child. Just think, I have the rest of my life with nothing to do but you. Cole can keep The Red Order, for I think I hold something that is even more precious to him. You.”
Automatic gunfire rings out behind us. My eyes flick from the darkened road to the headlights piercing my rear view mirror.
