Ruthless: Sins of Seven Series

by Dani René

  “I understand your concern, but you have to realize that what you were doing in that video is detrimental. If someone looks into it, if they find the woman you were with and she testifies about what happened between you . . .” Oliver allows the words to sink in.

  “Mr. Parker.” Hudson’s voice comes across the line, and my blood is boiling just at the smug tone. “I’ll go to Madi. I’ll keep her at the lake house until this has calmed down somewhat.” Like fuck, you will.

  “Thank you, Hudson. You’re a good boy.”

  Before he has time to get to his car, I’m already starting the engine and pulling out onto the road. I’ll get to her before he does. Oliver can wait until I’ve got my girl, and we’ll meet at his house later. There’s no way in hell I’m allowing Hudson anywhere near Madison.

  Not now.

  Not ever.

  Madison

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  I feel it. Feel him.

  When I woke up, he was gone. I’d called twice, and he didn’t respond. I’m not sure where Callan went, but my post bliss was gone, and panic was setting in. And then Hudson strolled in. I’m not sure what he gave me, but my body is boneless. I can’t move as I lean against the cabinet in the bathroom.

  I want to run, but I can’t leave. My father sent a message telling me the wedding has been moved up to tomorrow, and that’s when Hudson wandered into the bedroom, holding me down as he injected me with something. Anger fizzled into sadness then into fear. My heart aches for the man I’ve grown to love, and now I’m here, stuck with a man I hate.

  There’s no way for me to get out of here. I have no driver or car. The two men who were watching the lake house have left, and I’m alone with someone who’s trying to hurt me, and I’m fearful that he’ll get it right.

  It’s far too quiet. I don’t know where he went, not even a sound comes from the kitchen which makes me wonder what’s going to happen to me. I’m alone with my thoughts. The memories both steal my breath and hurt my heart. The memories of last night with Callan are forever emblazoned in me.

  Like a scar. A tattoo that will last long after I take my final breath.

  He wasn’t here to love me. He made me cry and scream.

  But it was his ruthlessness that made me fall for him.

  I glance down at the ruby color on my thighs. And for the first time in my life, I’m not the one who’s done it.

  I’ve been so strong, but now that I watch the open cuts drip, I allow it to release the pain in my chest. Long ago, before I’d attempted to do it, I read about the act of cutting. Had seen the horrific images on the internet, but it didn’t stop me. At thirteen I still took a razor blade to my flesh and watched as the deep-red liquid trickled from my wounds.

  It was a release.

  I felt as if all the bad things that happened to me were finally being expunged, and I got addicted to the feeling. The same way a drug addict or alcoholic feels when they shoot up or take a drink. It’s scary how much you need it, crave it. Since I was young, I’ve found release in it. I was okay when I’d woken up with Callan gone only an hour ago. I thought perhaps he was just out at the store, or something. But Hudson arrived and dragged me in here, then took a blade to my thighs.

  I’ve struggled all my life with the pain inside. When Callan was around, I forgot about it, pushed it aside. But with him gone now, and Hudson here, I think my father had something to do with it. I’ve learned one thing about Daddy — whatever he wants, he gets. I glance at my phone which was hidden in the pocket of my shorts, pressing send on the message to Callan. It may be the last one I ever get to him.

  A tear trickles its way down my cheek. I hear the door. And then the footsteps.

  It’s Hudson, and he’s here to finish what he started. He’s wanted everything my father has for so long, and now he’s taking it, piece by piece.

  The depression clouds around me. I feel it again, niggling away at me. Wanting to be let out, to drip from my skin. My sadness stemmed from a childhood of being bullied, from parents who didn’t care, and from a mother who walked out. Left before I had time to even know her. Some people may think it’s an excuse. They look at me and wonder how someone who’s had everything her heart could desire could ever feel like I do. But material things don’t offer solace. They don’t hold you when you’re scared.

  But Callan did.

  He somehow mended those shattered pieces of me.

  With his rough exterior, harsh commands, and his gentle soul, he hid behind high walls, I felt whole for the first time in a long while. I’ve never allowed anyone to get close enough to give something of myself. But he saw it. He filtered through my words, my smiles and sass, and he found the girl beneath.

  Somehow, in our differences, we fit perfectly. His jagged edges with my soft curves. It’s as if he slotted himself inside me, and now, I’ll never rid myself of him.

  It’s been a long while since I sat in this position on my bathroom floor. When I finally went for help, I didn’t think I’d ever find myself here again, but the pain has returned. He’s the one who walked out, and I let him. I told him to leave, and he did.

  What did I expect?

  The silver glints at me. It reminds me of the high. The freedom from pain.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Hudson hisses when he sees my phone on the floor beside me. “You’re a stupid little bitch just like Amber warned me.” His hate-fueled words swirl around me. I feel drunk, drugged, my limbs are limp, and I can no longer move them. There are hands on me, but I’m weak. I can’t fight him this time. He drags me by my arms to the bedroom. Lifting me easily, Hudson places me on the bed.

  “Amber,” I whimper when he leaves me and heads back to the bathroom. I’m confused. What is he talking about?

  When he returns, he’s carrying the blade he had earlier. “You see, I’ve been fucking your beautiful blonde friend for years.” His words slice into me like the razor blade itself, the pain acute. It’s his tone, that vicious anger, that hurts me. I don’t care about Hudson, but deep down, that teenage girl who wanted to be beautiful like the other girls rears her head.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  He smirks. Moving onto the bed, he straddles me, pressing me into the mattress. Hudson lifts my arm, pushing the blade into my wrist, and I can’t help wincing.

  “Don’t you like this?” he questions, and I watch in horror as he slices into the caramel flesh of my wrist.

  “No, please! Hudson,” I cry out, but it’s no use. I try to punch him, to shake him off like I learned in self-defense classes, but he’s learned my moves. And I can’t shake him. His fist connects to my face so painfully I cry out in agony.

  “You see,” he starts, “when they find your lifeless body, nobody will care, because you did this to yourself.” He informs me of this confidently. And he’s right. I’ve been doing this for far too long to hide it, and he knows it. He knew it all along.

  My head is spinning from the loss of blood and the harsh attack from his large fist. “Please.” My voice sounds weaker than I want it to. The clothes I’m wearing are turning red from the blood dripping onto me. He grips my neck, tightening his hold on me, and I can feel my lungs protest.

  “Fuck, you look so pretty all broken. I should’ve done this a long time ago. At least Amber lets me have my way with her,” Hudson hisses. His hips undulate above me, his erection pressing into my body. My stomach convulses as he jerks himself off against me.

  “Stop. Please?”

  “One more time? For old time’s sake,” he says, ripping my tank top open, exposing my breasts. My panties soon follow, and he’s pushing my thighs apart. I’m not ready. My body is not responding, but he doesn’t notice.

  I feel him nudge my entrance. “Please, no. No, Hudson!” I cry out when he drives into my dry core, and it feels like I’m ripped apart.

  “You’re so tight, Madicakes,” he coos in my ear. My stomach rolls with revulsion. He’s kneeling, lifting my hips against him so
his hands are free to maul my breasts. He tugs and pulls on my nipples. The blood from my wrist is no longer trickling—it’s rushing from the wound.

  “Please,” I whimper, attempting to stop the bleeding, but Hudson rips my left hand away.

  “I’ll cut both,” he warns. “Then I’ll make you come all over my cock like the little whore you are. Does it get you off?” he questions. “Cutting your flesh? Because fuck, your pretty ruby blood is making me hard.”

  “Stop. Hudson.” My voice is hoarse, and I’m slowly losing consciousness. My eyes flutter as he continues to violate me. The thickness of him inside my dry channel bring tears to my eyes.

  The light is gone. My eyes are closed. I think. I can hear him. The grunting. There’s pain in my stomach. I’m not sure what it is, but it hurts. I can’t open my eyes. He finally releases my neck, but I can’t pull in air.

  I gasp, but it’s not helping.

  “Goodbye, Madicakes. I couldn’t come inside you, or they’d know I was here,” he laughs. Evil. Sadistic. And then I’m alone.

  Callan

  Pulling up to the cabin, I curse as I push my door open and race up to the house. I had to pull over to take an emergency call from Oliver, but I don’t see another car anywhere in the vicinity, so I’ve still beat Hudson here. Thank fuck.

  The silence that greets me when I shove the door open is ghostly.

  “Madison!” I call out as I make my way through the living room, into the kitchen, but there’s nobody downstairs. Perhaps she’s still sleeping. I take the steps two at a time and shove into the bedroom where I’d taken her again and again last night.

  The sight that meets me knocks the breath from my lungs. Her naked body is lying in crimson sheets.

  “Baby, fuck,” I curse loudly, as I rip the sheet apart. The flimsy material tears easily. Quickly, I wrap her arm up to stop the blood loss. Then I cocoon her in the blanket that’s been folded neatly on the chair beside the bed. Her body is so cold, and I wonder just how fucking long she’s been like this. Why would she do this?

  There’s a blade beside her — small and silver — underneath her ruby-colored life force. Anger courses through my veins when I think about her doing shit like this. I’ve never felt this kind of rage before.

  “Hold on. Please, just fucking hold on,” I tell her as I make my way down to the car. Leaving the house unlocked, I place her on the back seat, keeping her hidden in the blanket. I don’t know how much blood she’s lost, but I need to get her to the hospital.

  My heart aches. It feels as if it’s been carved from my fucking chest.

  Hitting dial on my phone, I wait for Oliver to answer. On the third ring, his voice comes from the other end. “Callan.”

  “I need you to call in your contacts at the hospital. It’s an emergency.”

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Madison. I found her bleeding out on the bed in the lake house. I’m not sure what the fuck happened, but she’s unconscious.”

  “Fuck,” his hiss comes across loud and clear. “I’ll ensure they know you’re on your way. Dr. Harlow will be waiting at Chicago Gen,” he tells me then hangs up. My lungs feel as if they’re not pulling in enough air.

  I’ve seen blood. I’ve fucking caused so many deaths, but this is far too much for me to handle. It’s surreal. I wanted my girl, I finally found her, and I can’t fucking lose her.

  “Madison fucking Parker, don’t you dare die on me,” I warn her, even though I know she can’t hear me. My foot is flat on the gas pedal, my body thrumming with anxiety. It’s not too far, but timing is critical.

  And as I weave through the traffic, I do something I haven’t done in a long while.

  I pray.

  I fucking pray to a God who has long since forgotten me because of all the things I’ve done. Since I turned sixteen, I’ve walked the dark path my father led me on. He didn’t force it on me; I walked willingly. I followed him, and I wanted everything the life offered.

  * * *

  “Callan,” my father’s rough voice comes from the doorway.

  When I turn around, I find him holding a sleek, silver gun. I don’t know much about them, but from watching the men who work for us, I’ve noted a few things about how they’re held, how to load one, but I can’t for the life of me tell you what the name is or what caliber it is either.

  One day though.

  I’ll learn.

  “I need ye with me right now, son,” my father huffs, turning to leave only for me to traipse behind him. I’m the eldest by one year. Carrick, my younger brother, and Cayleigh, our little sister are nowhere to be found, and I wonder if he’s sent them into town.

  When he has the men here for meetings, he sends them away so they don’t have to watch what’s happening. My brother only being fifteen is too young to be in this life. And our sister, who’s seven, certainly shouldn’t be around the goons my father employs.

  As soon as we round the corner and step into the garage, the stale scent of blood assaults my nose. The metallic smell is heavy, as if it’s a cloud consuming me.

  “What is going on?” My question goes unanswered.

  “This.” My father gestures to the man seated on the chair before me. He’s bloodied and beaten, bound with metal cuffs to the chair. His once white teeth are broken and red with ruby-colored, metallic liquid. “Is a man who was stealing from us.”

  I glance at my father, then back at the thief. Anger surges through me at the news of what this asshole was doing. He deserves being beaten.

  “I trust you’re ready for this, Callan?” My father’s voice is steady as he hands me the heavy metal gun. My eyes fall to the weapon, then raise up to the eyes that match my brother’s. Deep golden orbs.

  “I’m ready,” I inform him.

  “Good boy,” he tells me. “Remember, always be ruthless.”

  His words echo as I lift the gun and aim it at the man’s forehead.

  Ruthless.

  I smile when I pull the trigger and watch his head slump forward.

  This is what I’ve wanted for so long, for my father to be proud of me. And when I turn to face him, I see it. He is proud.

  * * *

  But now, with my girl on the back seat close to death, I want something else. I want something so much more. I want the one thing I never knew I’d ever want or need.

  I want love.

  I only want it with her.

  As soon as I pull up to the hospital, I’m out of the car in seconds. Racing to the back, I jerk open the door, gently lifting my girl in my arms. Not bothering to lock the car, I head into the emergency department.

  “Dr. Harlow,” I tell the nurse who glances up as I hastily walk through the doors.

  “He’ll be here in a moment,” she says, punching something into the computer keyboard. “Can you tell me the patient’s name?”

  “Madison Parker,” I inform her, and I don’t miss the raised eyebrows as she continues her insistent tapping.

  “I’m Dr. Harlow.” A man with a full head of silver hair races toward me with a team of nurses behind him. “Get me a gurney. Let’s get this girl up into surgery. I want her hooked up to an IV and monitors immediately. Move!”

  I’m following behind them as they make their way through two large double doors.

  “We’ll call you once we’ve stabilized her, but we need you to wait out here,” the doctor tells me earnestly.

  “Don’t you dare let her die,” I warn, my voice dripping anxiety and fear. I hear it. I’ve heard fear on my victim’s pleas so many times. And now, here I stand, waiting for the woman I love to make it through the next few hours.

  “I’ll save her,” he tells me confidently and disappears along with Madison lying on a steel bed. My body is tight with worry. That dark thought of her not making it niggles at the back of my mind. And as much as I push it away, for some reason, it’s not letting up.

  I pace back and forth in the waiting area. My mind playing out all the scenarios
that could’ve led to her doing that shit again. Why would she fucking do that? I told her I claimed her, that she’s mine. Last night was my promise to her.

  Nothing makes sense.

  There was no reason for her to even think taking her life is worth it. I should’ve told her I love her. Last night, when I claimed her, I should’ve asked her to marry me, to spend forever with me.

  But my fear overrode the words, and I just fucked her. I made her come on my cock, and I filled her with my own release. Something I’ve never done with any other woman in my past. I’ve never trusted anyone enough to let go. To fully give myself.

  And now, the one woman I did allow in has gone and fucking mutilated herself for no apparent reason. My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I know it’s Oliver.

  “What’s up?”

  “How is she?” he asks.

  Sighing, I stop and lean against the wall. I need a fucking cigarette to calm my erratic heart and mind. “She’s in surgery, or some shit. The doctor said he’ll let me know as soon as she’s stable.”

  “I’m warning you, her father is on the way. Not sure how he found out, but the tracker on his car is on the move.”

  “Fuck.”

  I know what that’s going to cause. He’s going to come here and blame me. And that’s something I can’t have.

  “I’ll head out. I don’t need to be here when he arrives. Or I might kill the bastard myself.” I hang up before Oliver can reprimand me for wanting her father dead, but it’s my honest opinion. The asshole angers me.

  I head back to the nurse’s station, grabbing a blank page from a small notepad and scribble on it. “I need you to call me as soon as she’s awake.” I push a page with my number toward her. “Please,” I beg. I fucking beg. Because I can’t take this. Losing her will leave me vulnerable, open to the pain I long since shoved into the back of my mind.

  “Yes, sir. I promise, she’ll be okay.”